Beautiful Sacrifice (The Maddox Brothers, #3)(78)

Taylor looked to Camille for confirmation, and she looked to me, desperate for me to stop.

My mouth pulled to the side. “I’m sorry. None of this is directed at you.” I sighed. “We all have secrets, Cami. We just have to make sure keeping them doesn’t hurt the people we love.”

Camille watched me for a long time, and then her eyes returned to the ocean, filling with salty tears.

“What the hell is going on around here?” Taylor asked, his head moving back and forth between Camille and me.

“We should probably get some breakfast and then start packing. We have to leave for the airport by … what do you think? Noon?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Taylor said, still concerned over Camille. He stood, holding out his hand for me.

I took it and followed him to Bleuwater, the primary dining venue on the property.

Taylor was quiet, eating his omelet, lost in thought while he chewed.

“Who was she?” I asked.

Taylor stopped chewing.

I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “Don’t answer that.”

“She wasn’t you.”

“Nope,” I said before clenching my teeth.

He was waiting patiently as the anger boiled inside of me. He knew as well as I did what was coming.

“Four days? Really?” I hissed.

Taylor stared at his plate.

“Say something,” I said.

“There is nothing to say. I have no excuse. I f*cked up.”

“You said a week. That’s what you said. You couldn’t even make it to your own deadline before you were swiping your player’s card in someone else’s slot.”

He nodded.

“Don’t f*cking nod at me. Don’t just sit there and take it.”

He looked up at me. “What do you want me to say? I’m sitting here, scared to death that you’re going to kick me to the curb, and there’s not a damn thing I can do because we both know I deserve it, Falyn. So, I’m just going to keep my f*cking head down.”

“How am I supposed to respond to that?”

He opened his mouth to speak and then thought better of it.

I sat back in my chair, fuming, and at the same time, the guilt and anguish in his eyes was hard to watch. He already felt bad. He already knew it was wrong. He was already sorry. I was angry with him for all of those things, too. I deserved a guilt-free moment of anger, and he couldn’t even give me that.

I covered my face, unable to finish my meal.

“Do you want me to just get the check?” he asked, sounding miserable.

I could only nod.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “Everything was so good. How did we get here?”

Once we finished breakfast, we returned to the room, packed, and then made the jaunt to the lobby for checkout. The entrance was abuzz with activity—people coming and going, employees busy with guests.

“We should have a car waiting outside,” Taylor said to the desk clerk.

“All right,” she said. “You’re all set. I hope you enjoyed your stay at The Ritz-Carlton and that you come back to visit us soon.”

“Thank you,” Taylor said.

He carried our bags outside and greeted the same driver who had collected me from the airport.

Taylor stared out the window for most of the drive to Charlotte Amalie, and he only spoke when necessary once we reached the airport.

“Two hours early,” I said, reading my watch.

Taylor sat next to me at our gate, but he otherwise acted as if I were just another traveler in the terminal. An airplane headed for New York was boarding. We were so early that the monitor above the desk didn’t reflect our flight.

I checked my watch several times, curious if he was worried about his family or me or both and if I should try to talk to him about it or leave him to his thoughts.

An infant squalled somewhere behind us, and like so many other times when I’d heard a newborn, something twinged in my chest. Families were all around us, exasperated mothers and fathers trying their best to keep their tired, bored toddlers entertained.

I wondered if Taylor would ever watch children with longing the way I did, if he’d even have to because of our rough start, and if the weekend in St. Thomas was the beginning of our end.

“Taylor,” I said.

He pulled his finger from his mouth, spitting out a hangnail. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to ignore you. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about Travis?” I asked.

“No, I want to talk about us. Are you just waiting? Are you going to drop a bomb on me when we get home?”

He looked at me, dread in his eyes. “Are you?”

I kept my voice low. “You f*cked another woman because you were mad at me, and worse, you don’t know if you used protection. I don’t know how I feel about it. I don’t know how I’m going to feel about it later today or tomorrow or next week. This is one of those things that we’re going to have to play by ear.”

He peered down at the floor, his knee bouncing.

“What else do you want to talk about?” I asked.

“That’s plenty.”

I craned my neck, frustrated. “What else?”

“What you said, about all of us having secrets, is true. I don’t like it.”