The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(101)

“You wanted to find a girl who loved you for you.” He shrugs. “If this doesn’t count as sufficient evidence, I don’t know what will.”

I roll my eyes.

“She feels betrayed,” Tristan says.

“I haven’t looked at another woman,” I scoff. “How the hell could she feel betrayed?”

“She feels like she doesn’t know you.”

“She knows me better than anyone,” I whisper angrily. “Probably better than I know myself.” I roll my eyes. “I did not fall in love to have someone turn on me at the drop of a hat.”

“Christopher”—Jameson pats me on the back—“women are complex creatures. This is the first fight of many. You’re just beginning to feel the tip of the cock before you get bent over and completely fucked up the ass.”

Tristan chuckles. “Truth. What else did she say when you were fighting?”

“She told me she’s not moving to London and then asked me if I would move for her.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I’m not living in Bumfuck, Nowhere, for her to play with fucking cows.”

“There you go.” Jameson throws his head back and laughs out loud as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “You are so fucking stupid.”

I exhale heavily, and we sit in silence for a while.

“It’s a control thing,” Jameson says.

“She’s not a controlling person,” I say. “Not in the least.”

“Not wanting control and not having control are two different things.”

“She said she’d live anywhere as long as we’re together,” I reply.

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before she knew that where you live is out of your hands.”

“London is beautiful,” I scoff. “I don’t get it. It’s not like we won’t ever come back. We can buy a house in Bumfuck, Nowhere, as well.” I shrug as I look between them. “What’s the fucking problem?”

“She has no commitment to that.”

“She wants a commitment, I’ll marry her tomorrow,” I whisper angrily. “In my mind, I’m already married anyway.”

They both look at me, horrified.

“It’s that serious?”

“Yes!” I look between them. “Are you two dumb fucks listening to me at all? This is her. This is the one.”

Jameson widens his eyes. “Out of all the women in the world, you fall for one that hates money.” He laughs again. “Oh . . . the irony.”

“You think?” I scoff. “I didn’t sleep all night, petrified that she was going to leave me.”

“Give her time. She’ll calm down. It took Claire a while to come around to my life,” Tristan says.

“Same here.”

I can only hope that’s true.

“And for Christ’s sake,” Jameson sighs, “keep your big mouth shut.”

“That’s it?” I screw up my face. “That’s the brotherly advice you’re giving me? To keep my big mouth shut?”

My phone beeps with a text.

Can’t wait to see you today and

finally meet Hayden.

See you at 1.

Mom, xo

“Oh no.” I drag my hand down my face.

“What?”

“I’ve got lunch with Mom and Dad today to introduce them to Hayden.” I roll my eyes. “I completely forgot that I arranged it last week.”

“Tip of the day: keep her well away from Mother. That will be the final nail in your coffin.” Tristan widens his eyes.

“Yeah, good thinking.” I text back.

Sorry mom,

Super jet lagged.

Can we take a rain check?

I’ll call you tomorrow.

My phone instantly rings, and the boys both laugh, knowing exactly who is on the other end.

“Fuck it.” I answer the call. “Hi, Mom.” I fake a smile as I act happy.

“Darling, what’s happening?”

“Nothing, we’re just super tired, and I want Hayden to settle in a little. Can we reschedule lunch for in a few days’ time?”

She stays silent and calculating. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Hayden just found out who I am, and it’s . . . a lot.”

“She’s overwhelmed?”

“Yes.”

“I hope you’re being patient with her.”

I stay silent.

“I can’t imagine how upsetting it would have been if I found out your father had lied to me for twelve months.”

“I didn’t lie, Mom.”

“Yes, you did, Christopher. Blatantly.”

Ugh, not in the mood for a lecture. “I’m going.”

“Call me later.”

“Okay.” I widen my eyes. “Fine.” Last thing I need is another woman busting my balls. I hang up in a rush.

“What are you going to do now?” Tristan asks.

“I don’t know . . .” I shrug.

Jameson smiles into his coffee. “I suggest groveling.”