“Like what? Nail appointments and a trip to Saks?” Theodore quips.
Twirling a strand of my hair, I play the ditzy blonde act he’simplying. “Obviously, what else would I do? Oh, I know. I’d negotiate the biggest brand deal of the year.” I’m not normally one to boast but they bring out the worst in me. Having to prove myself to the dickwads I work with is one thing. Having to prove myself to Grant’s family is a feat I am wholly ill-equipped for.
Grant pulls me tighter against his side. “Taylor has her own career and ambitions. She’s working the same way I am.”
“Sure, because playing catch and traveling the country is hard work.” Reginald takes another swipe at Grant and I lose my temper.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I snap. “He’s your brother! How could you not support his dreams? Have you even been to a game?” Personally, I’ve never seen them show up to support Grant at all.
“We have a box at the stadium, of course we’ve been,” Nathaniel pipes up.
“Oh right, to bring clients and show off your money. But have you ever actually sat down and watched Grant pitch? Appreciated his talent? Celebrated his wins?”
“They used to,” Grant mumbles from beside me.
“Maybe you all need to take a long hard look at yourselves in the mirror. Because this,” I motion in a circle between us all, “is ridiculous and not how a family acts. Now if you’ll excuse us, I want to dance with my husband before he has to leave to play catch with his ninety-five-mile-per-hour fastball.”
Grabbing Grant’s hand, I drag him away from the four idiots and outside onto the terrace just off the dance floor.
He wraps me in his arms, resting his chin on my head. “Are you okay?”
“I should be asking you that.” I lean into his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart beneath my ear.
“I’m fine.” His hold on me is just a little too tight and his breaths are too ragged to believe he’s even remotely fine.
“It shouldn’t be like this.”
“No, it shouldn’t but I’m not giving you up just because they demand it.”
“I love you,” I say, barely holding back tears. If I cry now, he’ll ask what’s wrong and I don’t have it in me to give him more bad news. News that could change the way he feels about giving up on me.
I’m too scared to find out—not tonight. Tonight I just want him to hold me and pretend that his dreams of having our own family didn’t blow up in smoke. To pretend our ending isn’t coming a lot sooner than we both predicted.
What I didn’t know as we danced to the somber melody of a love song was that our challenges were only beginning and we wouldn’t make it to the end of the season.
Present Day
When I’m finally able to get off the phone and step back into the kitchen to get Taylor another pill, she’s staring off into space. After all these years, she still takes my breath away. Even with her hair in a knot on top of her head, baggy sweatpants, and an oversized shirt, she’s still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Still the hottest woman on the face of the planet too. Hell, the universe.
As comfortable as she looks right now, I know she’s in pain and needs to get moving or she won’t make it to Ivory’s for lunch.
“Here.” She jolts slightly, not realizing I’d come back in the room. When she looks up at me, I hand her the pill and a glass of water, taking the coffee mug from her and placing it softly on the table behind me, then I hold my hands out to help her off the couch. “Let’s get you in the bath.” I wait as Taylor unwraps herself from the blanket she’s tucked into and moves the heating pad off her lap. She passes me the empty water glass, and I put it down beside the coffee mug.
“I can stand on my own, ya know?” The sass means she’s feeling a little better after a cup of caffeine.
“Just let me help you.”
“No funny business.”
When I only watch her as she walks down the hall to her room, she lifts a brow at me and says, “You coming or am I drawing the bath myself?”
God, I wish I was coming. This self-imposed no orgasm rule is killing me. By the time we reach whatever breakthrough I’m hoping for, I don’t even know if my balls will be intact.
Ducking into the hall bathroom, I grab the new bubble bath and salts I stashed under the sink, hoping the combination works at soothing her cramps. A chuckle tumbles out of me at the sight of her waiting for me expectantly, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet when I walk into her bathroom. All bark and no bite.
“What’s that?” she asks, pointing to the bag in my hand.
“Can’t have a bath without bubbles.” I crank on the hot water and wait until the steam starts to rise. Plugging the deep soaker tub, I dump a heavy amount of bath salts into the bottom of the tub and swirl them around, hissing at the water temperature.
