Praise (Salacious Players Club, #1)(74)

“Do you want kids someday?” I ask because…I don’t know. Self-sabotage, maybe. Because that conversation with Garrett earlier has me feeling like I might as well end it before it even begins. And what better way to do it.

“I don’t know,” she answers casually. “I could see my life with them or without them.”

Not exactly the answer I expected.

“What about you?” she adds. “Would you ever have more?”

I clench my molars. “Had a vasectomy years ago.”

She tenses. “Oh.”

A cloud of disappointment hangs in the air. And for some reason, I just want to hammer this nail in the coffin.

“Considering my only child won’t speak to me, I’d say it’s for the best.”

She lifts her head and stares at me. “Stop that. I see how much you care about him. You’re a good father.”

“Yes, so good I’m fucking his ex-girlfriend.”

She doesn’t respond right away, but she stares at me skeptically. She can tell something is up, and she seems to be working through feelings of her own.

“That was a little harsh,” she murmurs quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Brushing the hair out of her face, I kiss her forehead.

Instead of laying her head back on my chest, she rises to a sitting position and fiddles with the hem of her shirt in her lap. “Do you mind me asking what happened? Why is Beau so mad at you?”

“He’s not mad at me. He’s disgusted by me.”

Her eyes dance in my direction. “Because of the club?”

I nod. “For most of his life, I worked in various fields of entertainment. When I started up Salacious with Garrett and the others, I told him it was a dating service. Then, it became a dance club. Suddenly, he was twenty-one, and he found out that I’d been lying to him his whole life and that my dance club being built was really a kink club. Something he just couldn’t accept.”

She swallows. Talking about my son with her sends a cool tremor down my spine because she knows him so well, probably even better than I do. And right now, I can see the thoughts brewing behind her eyes. I’m both dying to hear what she’s thinking and dreading it.

“What is it?” I ask, reaching for her hand.

“I just… I think Beau is wrong to judge you so harshly. But that’s just who he is. He rejects what he doesn’t understand, and he’s quick to pass judgment on others—”

“Charlotte, stop.”

She quickly closes her lips. Her brows are raised and there’s an apologetic look on her face, one that kills me. But I can’t listen to her talk about him like that. He has his faults—I will bear the burden of those flaws and he can be mad at me for however long he wants.

“I think he just needs his own time to get over things…”

I glance at her again. I think I know what she’s alluding to. Taking her hand in mine, I touch her knuckles to my lips, wanting to kiss away the sadness I feel creeping in. It’s because I’m a coward, and I don’t have the heart to kill the hope I know she’s begging me for. So I choose silence instead.

But this is Charlotte…or rather, Charlie, and I love all of her young stubbornness and inability to let things slide.

“The sooner we tell him, the sooner he’ll get over it.”

“Charlotte.”

“We have to at least try. If he finds out later, it won’t make anything better.”

“I can’t,” I argue, but she doesn’t stop.

“What happens when he finds out before you tell him? It would make everything worse.”

“Charlie, stop.” My voice comes out in a low barking command, and she gapes at me, my words hanging in the air. I can’t stand another minute of her hurt expression, so I jump off the couch and pace the room in frustration.

I called her Charlie. And she’s probably hurt more by that than anything else. Like I’ve just stripped her of her name. Glancing back at her on the couch, I watch her chew on her bottom lip. That’s not the girl I found on the floor of my office two months ago. Have I built her up only to break her down? Why am I fucking this up so badly?

Two months. That’s how long it took this one girl to walk in and fuck my head up so much that I don’t even know myself anymore. It’s hard to remember a time before Charlotte. And it hurts to think of a time after her.

“I wish you’d just tell me what you’re thinking,” I say, looking at her from across the room. “I hate to see you holding back.”

Her eyes well up with tears as she takes a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because…I just want to make you happy.”

It hurts to swallow down the lump in my throat. “I’m not your Sir right now. Don’t try to please me, Charlotte. Just be honest.”

She stands up and walks over to me, stopping only a foot away. After another deep breath, she squares her shoulders, and I can’t help but admire her from this angle. The hard-headed, tough, beautiful girl who refuses to believe she’s absolutely perfect.

“You think letting Beau find out about us would make you a bad father, but, Emerson, you’re already sleeping with me. You’ve already done it, but it doesn’t make you a bad father. It makes you human. Neither of us expected this to happen, but it did. And it’s a lot more serious than either of us expected.