I stand up, needing to move, to put some distance between us.
"Reeves works himself to death trying to keep that pool hall going. Do you know how many nights I've found him passed out at his desk, surrounded by bills and invoices? Do you know how many times he's carried Liam to hospital appointments when Liam was a baby, when I was too exhausted and depressed to get out of bed?"
The words pour out of me now, unstoppable. "He'snot perfect—God knows I'm not either—but he's been there. Through everything."
I turn back to face Caine, who's watching me with those intense green eyes, his expression unreadable in that slow, controlled way of his. Always so composed, so sure of himself and his place in the world.
"You see broken pieces because that's all you're looking for. You see what's convenient for you to see." My voice cracks slightly. "Our life might be messy and complicated, but it's ours. We built it together."
He reaches for my hand. "I'm sorry. I honestly just want the best for you. I want to see you happy. I love you, Jenna."
"Please don't say that," I beg, pulling away. "It only makes everything harder."
"You think I wanted to fall for a married woman… a married woman with a fucked up life. I've already got a million things on my mind. I barely sleep as it is, and now… I'm a zombie, Jenna. You keep saying that I've turned your life upside down… well, you've done the same to mine.”
I swallow hard. Things have clearly escalated really fast, and I realize I shouldn't even be here. I should be home with my child. "Well, I'm sorry too," I tell him. "I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you and your perfect life."
He blows out a long breath, clearly at a loss. I'm at a loss, too.
"I think it's time for you to go home."
I raise my chin in defiance and stare at the huge photograph on the wall, one of his amazing cityscapes. It's a stunning panoramic view of Portland's skyline at dusk, the lights of the buildings just beginning to twinkle against the darkening sky.
The photograph must be at least four feet wide, professionally mounted in a minimalist black frame that suits the industrial aesthetic of his penthouse. It's just one more reminder of his talent, his wealth, his perfectly curated life that I've stumbled into and disrupted.
"I agree. Yes… I should go. "
He leans over the glass coffee table and reaches for his phone. "I'm on it."
And with those words, he dismisses me and sends me on my way.
I reach our front door just after midnight, feeling like Cinderella rushing home before the spell breaks. The house is quiet—too quiet—no Reeves waiting up to interrogate me about where I've been. I exhale with relief, grateful for the reprieve.
Liza has fallen asleep on the sofa, and as I watch hersleep peacefully, I'm suddenly so thankful for her. She's the best friend a girl could ask for. Who else would drop everything to go look after someone's kid?
I let her be and go check on Liam.
I adjust his blanket just so and stroke his soft hair. He's sleeping with Oliver, who's decided Liam's bed is his favorite place in the house. The sight of them together makes my heart ache with love.
The front door bangs open just as I'm heading to my bedroom. I freeze, heart pounding.
"Reeves?" I call out, hurrying down the stairs.
He's slumped against the doorframe, face a bloody mess. One eye is swollen shut, his lip split, and blood has dried beneath his nose in a dark crust.
"Oh my God!" I rush to him as he staggers inside. "What happened?"
"Nothing," he mumbles, wincing as I help him to the couch. "Just a misunderstanding."
“A misunderstanding? You look like you've been hit by a truck!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
What the hell happened? My mind races with a thousand terrible possibilities, each worse than the last. Bar fight? Robbery? Someone from his past? The gambling debts I've been pretending not to notice?
I'm scared shitless, my hands trembling as I fumble for my phone on the coffee table. Who do I even call at this hour? The police? An ambulance? Or is this something we need to handle quietly? "We're going to the emergency room. Now."
He doesn't argue, which terrifies me more than hisinjuries.
