Thief (Love Me With Lies #3)(23)

“Tell me,” I say. “Peter Pan…”



“Noah,” she breathes.

“Where is he, Duchess?”

“He’s in Munich right now. Last week, Stockholm, the week before that, Amsterdam.” She looks away. “We’re not … we’re taking a break.”

I shake my head. “A break from what? Marriage or each other?”

“We like each other. Marriage, I guess.”

“Fuck, that doesn’t even make sense,” I say. “If we were married I wouldn’t let you out of my bed, never mind my sight.”

She pulls a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There are guys like me out there, and I wouldn’t let them get near you. What’s he playing at?”

She’s quiet for a long time. Then she blurts:

“He doesn’t want children.”

Estella’s face blurs my vision before I ask…

“Why not?”

She shrugs; trying to pretend like it’s nothing. “His sister has Cystic Fibrosis. He’s a carrier. He’s seen how much she’s suffered and he doesn’t want to bring children into the world with the risk of them having it.”

I can see how much it bothers her. Her mouth is pinched and her eyes are darting around the tabletop as if she’s searching for a crumb.

I swallow. This is a touchy subject for me too.

“Did you know that before you married him?”

She nods. “I didn’t want children before I married him.”

I stand up. I don’t want to hear her talk about how Noah made her want things that I couldn’t make her want. I must look sulky because she rolls her eyes.

“Sit down,” she snaps. “I see you still play footsie with your inner child.”

I walk to the floor-to-ceiling window that circles her living room and look out. I ask the question I don’t want to ask, but I can’t not know. I am jealous.

“What changed your mind?”

“I’ve changed, Caleb.” She gets up and comes to stand next to me. I glance at her and see that her arms are crossed over her chest. She is wearing a long sleeve, grey cotton shirt and black pants that sit low on her hips so that a few inches of flesh are exposed. Her hair is loosely braided over her shoulder. She stares out at the traffic that is zooming below us. She looks badass. I smirk and shake my head.

“I never felt worthy enough to have babies. Duh — right? I have all those super cool daddy issues.”

“Aw, man. Are you still working through those?”

She grins.

“Little bit here and there. I can have sex now.”

I cock up one corner of my mouth and narrow my eyes. “I’m pretty sure I cured you of that.”

Her eyelashes beat so rapidly they could blow out a match. She chews on her lip to keep from smiling.

I tilt my head back and laugh. We both get such a kick out of making each other uncomfortable. God, I love this woman.

“You did though,” she says. “Despite what you think, it wasn’t because of your bedroom moves. It was what you did to get me back.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“The amnesia?” I’m surprised.

She nods slowly. She’s still looking out the window, but my body is pivoted toward her now.

“You’re not that person … the one who lies and does crazy things. That’s me. I couldn’t believe you did that.”

“You are crazy.”

She shoots me an annoyed look.

“You broke your own moral code. I figured if someone like you would fight for me, I might actually be worth something.”

I look at her earnestly. I don’t want to say too much, or too little.

“You are worth fighting for. I haven’t given up yet.”

Her head snaps up. She looks alarmed.

“Well, you should. I’m married.”

“Yeah, you got married, didn’t you? But, you only did it because you thought we were over — and we’re not over. We’ll never be over. If you think that little piece of metal on your finger can shield off your feelings for me, you’re wrong. I wore one for five years and there wasn’t a day that went by where I wasn’t wishing it were you.”

I look at her lips, lips that I want to kiss. I turn and grab my keys to leave before we can start fighting — or kissing. She stays at the window. Before I walk out of the living room, I say her name.

“Olivia.”

She looks at me over her shoulder. Her braid swings across her back like a pendulum.

“Your marriage won’t last. Tell Noah the truth; be fair. When you do, come find me, and I’ll give you that baby.”

I don’t stay to watch her reaction.



I feel guilty that I’m offering my ex-girlfriend a baby when my current girlfriend is probably at my house, waiting for me — wanting me to offer her a marriage. My life comes into focus when I walk through my front door. There is music playing loudly from my stereo. I walk over and turn it down. Jessica is at the stove, flipping something in a frying pan. It amazes me that she wants to cook even when she’s not at work. You’d think she’d be sick of it by now. I sit at a barstool and watch her until she turns around.