Page 136 of Sweet Distraction

“Tell me it’s going to be okay,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion.

I muster a smile that I know for a fact doesn’t reach my eyes.

“I need to review the documents on this case. There are many, and for that reason, I’d like to reconvene next week at the same time for my decision.”

The judge’s monotone voice replays in my head. I thought this would all be over today, that we could start repairing the damage immediately, but now, of course, we have to wait a week. A week where it can fester and blow up to epic, untrue proportions.

“Tell me it’s going to be okay,” she repeats.

I can’t.

Because it’s not okay.

Not for her. Not anymore.

A quick look at social media has headlines flashing in front of my eyes. Terms like gold digger, slept her way to the top, and lies for money.

All because I kissed her.

All because I love her.

“In time it will be,” I finally say.

She nods, but it’s a nod that’s meant to be brave, not honest. “I got flustered. I feel like I failed you.”

“You didn’t.” And I mean it with everything I have.

“I’m sorry, Rocket,” she says, her voice breaking.

“No, please don’t cry.” My heart sinks. She looks so sad. So vulnerable. “You were perfect.”

She reaches for me. Just a hand on my chest. A question if this is okay in the midst of all this chaos.

I let her touch me, but I don’t give in to the need to pull her closer.

I don’t lift my hand to her waist. Don’t bury my face in her hair like I want to. I just . . . stand there.

And her eyes shift. I see it. The flicker of confusion. The fear. Why aren’t you holding me back?

“Rocket?”

My chest aches. “Let me finish snack and bedtime for Poppy. It’s been a long day. You should get some sleep.”

She hesitates. The hurt in her eyes fucking owns me. But she nods, presses a goodnight kiss to Poppy’s head, and then she walks past me toward her room without looking back.

And I don’t stop her.

Because I want to pull her into my arms and never let her go. But in loving her, I know that if I really want to protect her, if I really want Poppy and Willow to be okay, then I might have to break my own damn heart.

And hers.

To save them both.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Willow

Poppy’s laughter is a sound I don’t deserve. It’s like a balm to my soul—something that feels better for now but that I know doesn’t fix anything.