Beautiful Sacrifice (Maddox Brothers #3)(81)

“Dear,” Chuck said, a hint of warning in his voice.

“She’s right,” I said. “He might not need it, but he does deserve it.”

She grabbed a stack of menus. “Oh, baby girl, he’s been good to you. He didn’t deserve that.” She walked away, clearly angry with me.

I looked sheepishly at Chuck.

“She just wants what’s best for you. She hates to see you making things harder on yourself. So … what did his message say?”

I pulled out my phone and read the text aloud, “I can’t believe you dumped me and ruined our entire weekend over the off chance that I might want to dump you over something you can’t control.” I read the next message, “To be honest, I haven’t really thought about it before, but now that you’ve insisted there is a real possibility that children are off the table for us, you’re right. It’s an important decision that I should think about, but you didn’t have to kick me to the goddamn curb to make your point.”

Phaedra returned, impressed with what she’d heard. “He’s a smart little shit. I’ll give him that.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, exhausted. So many warring thoughts in my head hadn’t allowed for much sleep.

“He’s at least pretending to attempt to be objective.”

A scowl compressed my face.

Kirby breezed in, and we all immediately pretended there was nothing wrong. She saw right through our pathetic attempt and grilled me about the weekend every time we had a spare moment to chat.

The Bucksaw was packed for most of the day, a welcome distraction from Kirby’s incessant questions and Phaedra’s disenchanted expressions. When I wiped down the last table of the day and sat on the stool to count my tips, Kirby pushed me past my limit.

“At least tell me who is mad at whom!” she begged.

“No! Stop asking!” I snapped.

Phaedra crossed her arms. “Falyn, I want you to listen to me. There are thousands of couples out there who are childless by choice. Look at Chuck and me. Granted, we’ve got you girls, but we’ve always been happy. You’ve been honest with Taylor. He knows what he’s in for. You can’t force him to do what you think is the right thing.”

Kirby stared at me like I was on fire. “Oh God, Falyn, are you pregnant?”

“I’m out.” I grabbed my things and headed for the stairs.

By the time I finished my shower and crawled into bed, Taylor had texted me. I felt sick, worrying about what he might say, but I read the message anyway.

Day Two. You don’t have to respond. I know you want me to spend this time being objective, and I want this to be done, so f*ck me if I don’t do it the right way, and you make me start over. Thought about you all weekend. Yesterday was the first Sunday I’ve had off in three weeks, and it f*cking sucks that I spent it here without you. I’m half-missing you, half-pissed at you. Mostly, I’m wondering how you could think anything would be more important to me than you. Kids are important, and yes, our relationship is new. But if it means choosing, I choose you.

True to his word, Taylor had thought about my proposal all week, sending me one text every night.

Day Three. It’s only Tuesday. I feel like I’m going to go out of my f*cking mind. You don’t have to respond, but I miss you like hell. It’s hard to think about anything else, but I am, and I still feel the same. This is the longest f*cking week ever, and I’m worried you’re just going to tell me to kick rocks anyway. Are you? Don’t answer that. I’m going to go stay with Tommy for a couple of days to clear my head.

On the fourth day, Taylor didn’t text. I lay in bed, worrying until I thought I might puke. Feeling something heavy on my chest, my emotions were all over the place. I didn’t want to lose him, but if he wanted more, I owed it to him to let him go. That kind of selfishness would slowly poison any relationship.

Tears fell from the outer corners of my eyes, down my temples, dripping to my pillowcase with a tiny thud. With my arm resting on my forehead, my eyes closed, I tried to push it from my mind, but the fear tore a hole, and it just kept getting bigger.

I looked over at my alarm clock, the red numbers glowing 4:15 a.m. Just as I reached for my phone, it pinged several times in a row. I scrambled to grab it from the nightstand.

It’s the fifth day of this bullshit im in San Diego and maaybe you’re right.

Maybe a hundred ducking years from now I’ll feel f*cked out of having a family and wish i had a sun to play ball with and maybe ill want grandkids maybe I don’t deserve you anyway