Page 70 of Theirs to Treasure
When my former fiancée, Emily, had a pregnancy scare, I’d immediately done the right thing and proposed.
Maybe the false alarm came too soon after my dad passed, but I wasn’t ready to be a father like I am now. I would have been there for her, taken care of my child, but I hadn’t had this kind of connection, a need to be involved, a desire to be the same kind of dad like the man I just saw outside. Devoted.
When Harper walked out of the Royal Sterling and our lives, I’d really had no choice but to ensure she was safe and didn’t need anything: money, resources, support…
As if trying to harness his annoyance, Zev sucks in a breath. “Put yourself in her shoes. We show up on her doorstep with a pregnancy test, insisting she takes it, and before both lines are fully formed, you insist she marries us, and you make it all but impossible for her to have her own job and money.”
Why would she need that when I will give her the stars above?
“Now you’ve taken away her apartment, the only thing she has that is familiar.”
“Throwing away money.”
Zev holds up his hand to interrupt me. “Stop being so damn self-centered. The point is, dumbass, if you had asked her, she might have agreed with you.”
The end result would have been the same.
He leans in. “If you don’t learn to consider her needs and wants, talk to her, be partners, she’ll be gone from our lives forever.”
“We’re having a baby together.”
“And we can take her to court.” He stands and raps two fingers on the tabletop. “But at what cost? She will hate you forever. Is that what you want? From the woman you love?”
Without another word, he turns toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To spend time with someone who’s not an asshole.” He pulls the door closed behind him so hard that the wood jumps in its frame.
As I probably deserve, I’m alone.
I sink back into the chair and fill my glass again.
Zev’s words play through my head, one of them bouncing around so hard I’m unable to shove it aside.
Love.
What a quaint notion, a word with no meaning. Anyone can say it, throw it around like confetti.
Providing for my family, taking care of them, protecting them… Those are the only things that matters.
Staring at nothing at all, I down that next drink, and it burns all the way to my gullet.
I’ll leave the romanticism to poets and songwriters.
As for me, I’ll deal with facts and reality.
And that makes me what I am right now: the loneliest, most miserable person on the entire planet.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Harper
“Areyou sure you want to hear this? It’s about your family.”
There’s a cautious note in Amelia’s voice that I can hear even though we’re on the phone.
Do I want to hear it?