Page 88 of Lowering His Guard

Her eyes flash with guilt. I knew it.

“No, I…” She trails off and I wait.

When she doesn’t continue, I do, “You’re worried that if I find another woman, she’ll discover how much money I’m paying you in spousal support.”

She bristles. “It’s no one’s business.”

“You came here for nothing.”

She smirks. “I knew it. You could never replace me.”

I snort. “Replace you? I’m not replacing you. I’m trading up.”

It’s not a lie. Why did I ever compare Serenity to May? Why did I go running scared this morning?

I used Jace as an excuse to run away from May and the consequences of our night together. Because I was terrified. Terrified May was the same as Serenity. Terrified she’d discover I’m falling for her and use the knowledge against me. Terrified I’d end up hurt and alone. Again.

I’ve been holding back from May because of Serenity. I’ve been stupid. The two women are nothing alike. May would never abandon anyone in her life. She literally abandoned a promising career as a surfer to help care for her mother.

And she’s not impressed by my money. She doesn’t want elaborate dates at fancy restaurants. She wants to sneak through yards and steal mascots. She wants walks along the beach. She wants ice cream dates and moonshine tastings.

Holy shit. I love May.

I nearly stumble at the force with which the knowledge hits me. I thought I was falling for my pint-sized surfer. I was wrong. I’ve already fallen. I’m already considering building a gym on the island. Not because I don’t have anywhere to retire. But because May’s here.

“Trading up?” Serenity snorts with derision. “With her?” She sneers at the ice cream stand where May and Jace are laughing.

My heart warms at the scene. How could I not love May? She’s diverting Jace’s attention while I deal with his mother. She scurried him away and is literally making him laugh after being confronted with a mother who abandoned him.

I’m not discussing May with Serenity. “I’m retiring.”

I wait for her to realize what I’m saying. When she does, she lunges for me. I retreat.

“You can’t retire.”

“I can and I am.”

“But our settlement.”

“I hope you saved some of the millions I paid you because the tap is switching off after this season.”

“But you’re only thirty-five! You can play for several more years.”

I shrug. “Don’t want to.”

“Don’t be selfish!”

I growl. “Me? I’m being selfish? Because I don’t want to push my body to its limit every week? Because I’m tired of dunking in ice baths? Because I want to spend time with my son?”

“But what about me?”

“Not my problem. When you abandoned me and my son, you officially became your own problem.”

“He’s not your son. He’s our son.”

I shake my head. “You haven’t seen him for eleven years. Did he even recognize you?”

She flinches and I have my answer.