The Takeover (The Miles High Club #2)(125)

“No, Fletcher said he didn’t want to after working all week.”

“I’ll think about it,” I reply.

He stares at me for a beat, as if waiting for me to say something.

“Do you want to talk about Saturday?” I ask.

He puts his hand on his hip with attitude. “Are you going to call Tristan and apologize?”

“I already went and saw Tristan, Harry.”

His face lights up in excitement. “What did he say?”

I shrug as I search for the right words. “We decided that we’re just going to be friends for the moment,” I reply as I sip my coffee. He doesn’t need to know the ins and outs of our conversation at the airport. I don’t want to remember it myself.

He frowns. “So . . . he’s not coming back?”

My heart drops. “No, honey. Remember, I told you that he had to go to Paris to work for a while.” I take his hand and hold it in mine. “You need to understand why Tristan and I have a different opinion on the adoption thing.”

He stares at me.

“Tristan isn’t your dad, Harry, and although we all love each other, sometimes things don’t turn out the way that we want them to. Tristan was my boyfriend, and going forward, I’m not sure where we stand with that. I’m sad too. This is affecting all of us. But he will always be your friend, Harry. Nobody will ever take that from the two of you.”

“Dad’s dead, Mom. And he’s not coming back,” he spits. “And Tristan wants to be my new dad . . . and you won’t let him.”

My eyes fill with tears at his cold attitude. “Harry.”

“You ruined it,” he blurts out like a poison. “You’ve ruined everything.” He storms off.

“Harry, come back here!” I call after him.

He marches up the stairs and slams his bedroom door hard.

I drag my hand down my face. God, this is a fucking nightmare.

The first two months Tristan and I were together, Harry hated him with a passion, and now . . . he’s the one who’s unable to cope with all of this.

There are three hearts connected to mine.

I dial my brother’s phone number and wait as it rings. “Hey, sis,” he replies, and I can tell he’s smiling.

“Hey,” I breathe. I love my brother, and at times like this I just want to go and sleep on his couch so that I can be close to him. He makes everything seem better, and I have no doubt that’s why my boys are seeking him out.

“How you doing?” he asks.

“Okay.” I sigh.

“How you really doing?”

“Pretty crap.” I smile sadly.

“Thought so.”

“You really want to take the boys fishing this weekend?”

“Yeah, sure. When Harry called me—”

“Harry called you?” I interrupt him.

“Yeah, said he wanted to get away for the weekend with the boys.”

I get a lump in my throat . . . he’s really missing Tris.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I’m happy to go. I could use some time with them too.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll text Harry all the details and keep in contact with him,” he says.

“Thanks.” I sigh sadly. My heart feels like it’s about to break from guilt.

“Hey . . . sis?” Bob says.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing with Tristan? Everybody seems pretty damn heartbroken over there.”

My eyes fill with tears. “No, Bob, I’m not,” I whisper.

“You might want to work it out pretty soon . . . before it’s too late.”

I get a lump in my throat. “I know,” I whisper through tears.

Too late.

A feeling I am all too familiar with. After Wade died, there were so many things that I had left unsaid . . . it was too late to tell him.

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh,” I lie as I wipe my tears. “It’s been a rough week. I’ll survive.” I smile sadly. “I always do.”

“Bye, darlin’. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

I sit and stare at my phone for a moment until I can’t stop myself anymore. I text Tristan.

I love you,

xoxo

I hit send and stare at my phone, and eventually the word appears.

Read.

He’s read the message.

I wait . . . and I wait . . . and I wonder what he’s doing right now.

Text me back . . . please.

But he doesn’t, and I cry because I know that it’s probably already too late.

I sit in front of Fletcher’s building in the loading bay. It’s Friday afternoon, and I’m picking him up from work. The boys left to go on their fishing trip straight from school. It’s just the two of us for three days.

I watch him walk out the front doors with Jameson. They’re talking and laughing.

Does Jameson know about Tristan and me?

Jameson glances over at the car and nods his head. He turns his attention straight back to Fletcher.

He knows all right, and he’s pissed.

The whole world thinks I’m doing the wrong thing . . . maybe I am.

I love Tristan. With all of my heart, I love Tristan. I would give anything to have him back in my life. But I can’t give control to someone over my children; I just can’t.