Page 108 of Worth the Fight

“Let me do this for you, Dylan. I can’t give you much. Even with all you’ve helped me learn over the past few months, I can’t give you more . . . but I can give you this.”

Tears well in my eyes, and I know he understands why. The fear. The unknown. The insecurity. And yet I bite my bottom lip and nod. That small reaction causes his lips to spread in a huge grin and light up his face.

“You’re always more than welcome to share the photos with me too.” He laughs as I swat at him. “It was worth a shot.” He laughs.

“Grady Malone.” I sigh. “What am I going to do with you?” I smile softly at him, feeling sad. The real question is, what am I going to do without you?

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

DYLAN

“So? Was it as embarrassing as you thought it would be? It would be a great present for Grant, but not with this prego body.” Emerson laughs as she rubs her belly.

I purse my lips and think of yesterday’s photo shoot. The first hints of mortification. Then the glass of wine that slowly put me more at ease with each sip. The chatter of the stylist and makeup artist, and then when I was finally in front of the camera—when it was just Marcy and me—how it wasn’t as bad as I feared.

But that isn’t to say the pictures will be anything worth looking at.

“It was . . . it was something I think every woman should do at least once in her life—a face-your-fear thing—but mind you, I’m saying that before I see any of the photos.”

“I’m sure that they will turn out wonderfully. How can they not with you as the subject?”

I roll my eyes. “Like I said, I’ve yet to see any pictures.”

Petunia comes into the kitchen and pushes her snout against my leg. My eyes sting with tears, and I keep them aimed down at her as I try to rein in the emotion.

Emerson reaches over, puts her hand over mine, and squeezes. “You doing okay?”

I nod and swallow over the lump in my throat and the unexpected emotions overwhelming me. “I’m good,” I lie. How have these people, this family, become so important to me when four months ago I didn’t know them at all?

“So what? You’re going to leave just like that? Pack your stuff and walk out without ever looking back?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say anything at all, actually.”

“I have a life to get back to, Emerson.” I hate sounding like a broken record—pun unintended. Or maybe it’s only broken in my head, because that’s what I keep telling myself every time I hope Grady will ask me to stay.

“That’s such bullshit, and you know it.”

“What?” I laugh the word out in defense.

“This pregnant woman is moody and emotional so don’t play the innocent game. I pushed Grant away. I know what it’s like to want more but terrified to ask for it.”

“It isn’t the same thing. You two knew each other before.”

“And? Are you telling me that just because you didn’t know Grady before you can’t want to be with him now?”

“It isn’t that way.”

Her chuckle is low and borderline incredulous. “Then if it isn’t that way, why didn’t you leave today? Why are you waiting until he’s off shift tomorrow to spend one last night with him before you go?”

“Because I want to see him.” I scratch the top of Petunia’s head, still avoiding Emerson’s gaze. She’ll see right through me, because a woman in love can always see when another woman is denying their own.

“You’re actually going to sit here and lie and tell me that when you leave here, you’re not going to leave any part of yourself behind, aren’t you?”

“Emerson.” Her name is a sigh. A plea. A question.

“Whatever.” She scoots her chair back, walks across the kitchen to the counter, and grabs the calendar. She’s back at our table in a second, flipping through the months until she gets to August. She tosses it on the table and jabs her finger at it. “You’re telling me you’re actually going to walk away from this? Look at that man, Dylan. What do you see in those eyes of his? I know what I see. I see a man who’s in love and can’t admit it. I see a man who needs a bit more patience and then maybe he’ll realize it.”