To Have It All(59)

I knew more than anything, we needed a subject change. I needed to give her something to occupy her mind. Something to keep her busy. “Would you mind taking baby girl so I can check on Waverly?”

Her gaze fell upon Pim, and she smiled. “Of course I don’t mind,” she whispered. Slowly and gently, I transferred Pim’s limp body to Helen who carried her off to bed. After they’d vanished from the kitchen, I folded the creased letter and slipped it in my back pocket. Putting my hands on the counter, I dropped my head. My poor sister. Involving her was selfish of me. It was taking a toll on her, and I had no idea what would happen to her after I died . . . if I did die. At that point, I had absolutely no reason to believe my life wouldn’t end in a few short days. Then what would she do? She’d be pregnant and in mourning. And what about Waverly? Talk about a woman good and pissed off. What would happen if Max returned and pulled the same asshole card on her? The weight of guilt hit me hard, and I clenched my eyes closed.

“God,” I prayed softly, my voice deep. “I know I’m not much of a praying man,” I admitted, “but dear Lord, please help me be strong enough to get me and these women with me through this without ruining them. Please don’t let me screw up that sweet baby girl. Please don’t let me be another disappointment to Waverly, another reason for her to resent men. Please don’t let me leave my sister emotionally drained. I ask nothing for me, Lord. Just these women. Please. Amen.”

With a deep breath, steadying myself, I made my way to the dining room, stopping at the doorway. I couldn’t help snorting a laugh to myself.

Waverly was out cold. Damn, she was a pretty woman even with her face smushed up on one side, against her arms. Scratching the back of my neck, I wondered for a moment if it wouldn’t be better just to leave her, but then I remembered her ankle, and she probably needed to have that propped up. I poked her arm a few times and shook her gently, but she didn’t stir. I was going to have to carry her to bed. Would she be okay with that? The night before, I had definitely crossed a line, one I wasn’t sure if she was upset with me for or not. She’d seemed okay at dinner—more than okay. She actually seemed . . . pleasant, but I was so preoccupied with my thoughts I didn’t pay it much attention. If I carried her to bed would she even remember, and if she did remember, would she bite my fucking head off for doing it? Probably the latter, I figured. I shook her again hoping like hell she’d wake up.

“Waverly,” I spoke quietly. “If you don’t wake up I’m going to carry you to bed,” I warned.

She didn’t stir.

“Okay,” I surmised. “I tried to warn you.”

With a bit of awkward maneuvering, I scooped her up. Even with all that commotion, she didn’t wake. Her body was as limp as a cooked spaghetti noodle in my arms.

She was light and soft, and her hair had an exotic fragrance that hit me. “Damn you smell good woman,” I grumbled to her, even though she was passed out and couldn’t hear me. Not that I wanted her to hear it. Slowly, I maneuvered through the apartment, careful not to bang her head or feet against any furniture or door frames. Helen was just leaving the bedroom after putting Pim down as I was about to enter. Her eyes were still red and swollen, but she looked like she’d calmed down a bit.

“Wow,” she chuckled. “Guess red wine is her nemesis.”

“Yeah, she hasn’t flinched.”

“Pim is out, too, so try to be quiet.”

“Got it,” I acknowledged.

Stepping up on her tippy-toes, she kissed my cheek. “I’m heading out,” she informed me. “I’ll be back bright and early to help out.”

“Thanks, Helen,” I whispered. “I love ya, sis.”

She smiled faintly. “I love you, too. Night.”

I watched her grab her purse and quietly scurry toward the front door.

It only took a few more tactical steps before I reached the bed and laid Waverly down. Delicately, I moved her leg and propped her ankle up on a mound of pillows. She let out a little snore making me smirk. She looked so . . . peaceful. I really liked the sleeping version of Waverly. I snorted a quiet laugh as I remembered her asking me what was up my butt while I was eating dinner. She was a smart-ass for sure, and I had to admit, I liked it. She wasn’t a pushover. She said what was on her mind, and she didn’t give two shits about offending someone.

Her lower lip was pouty, and I couldn’t help letting my imagination get the best of me as I thought about our kiss in the shower. She’d accepted it, and given into me. She’d wanted it as badly as I had. Just the thought of it as I stared down at her had me fighting the urge to bend down and kiss her again just to feel her soft lips once more.

Then, as I stared at her . . . it happened again.

I closed my eyes and shook my head adamantly. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I warned it.

But it did.

Max’s dick got hard.

“You motherfucker,” I growled. Looking down at my crotch I informed it, “It’s not happening, man, so you may as well calm the fuck down.”

Of course, it didn’t listen.

In fact, it got harder.

Deciding I needed a cold shower, I moved to grab the comforter to cover Waverly before I left, when something caused me to jerk my gaze to her.

Her eyes.

They were wide fucking open.