More Than Need You, Page 9

  of her car. “Don’t push me, Griff.”

  I follow, thinking of several things I could point out: I’m not going away, a boy needs his father, letting me see Jamie is only fair. She won’t care about any of that. That’s my boo-hoo bullshit. I’m a sales guy, so I know better than to expect that to matter to her. I might not be the top producer on the island—that distinction goes to my brother—but I run a fucking close second. What I have to tell her is how she’ll benefit if I become a part of our son’s life. Besides, of course, the fact I’m going to give her the most amazing pleasure for the rest of our days. She’s not ready to hear that.

  “I can help you with him, Britta. You said it yourself; he’s growing fast. That stunt he pulled today might be the first, but it won’t be the last. He’ll need someone who understands what it’s like not to have a healthy fear of gravity and can anticipate when he might exercise his lack of common sense. I’ve got two decades of that experience. You’ve never had an incautious day in your life. I can talk to him, temper him, guide him. I—”

  She’s already sliding into the driver’s seat and shutting the door. I hear it lock as she starts the engine.

  Britta cracks the tinted window enough to look at me. “I’ll think about letting you see him again and advise you on Monday. Bye.”

  Then she’s slinging her way out of her parking space and squealing across the lot, flashing taillights as she heads to the open road, taking my son and my potential for happiness with her.

  Yeah, trying to open a dialogue, empathizing, and working through it like a reasonable guy didn’t go well. Fuck. Though Keeley put me in touch with my emotions, sometimes they frustrate me because they aren’t useful. But what I do know? Good strategy sometimes calls for relentlessness. Britta doesn’t yet know even half the persistence and liquid savagery running through my veins.

  But she will.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Are you sure about this?” Maxon asks as we stand over Britta’s dining room table in the middle of my office. “She’s going to be pissed.”

  “I have to do something.” After a mostly sleepless night, followed by an intense workout this morning, then an hour with my attorney friend, I’ve come to some hard realizations. “I’m not listed as the father on Jamie’s birth certificate, so legally Britta can cut me off at the balls where he’s concerned if she wants. I have absolutely no rights.”

  “Now that you’re back in the picture, if you negotiate with her, she might fix that.”

  “Voluntarily? I’m not holding my breath.”

  “Normally I’d say you’re wrong, but…” Maxon frowns. “She has a lot of anger. What’s your recourse?”

  I give him a cynical grunt. “Well, I could take her to court, force a paternity test, and have Jamie’s records altered. But if I do that, I’m almost guaranteed to pay child support for fifteen and a half years so she can resent the hell out of sharing our son with me every other weekend and during holidays. No thanks.”

  Maxon concedes that point with a nod. “I hear you. I just don’t know how you change that.”

  “I have to find a way to make Britta want to share Jamie with me.” I’d damn sure prefer to be tucking our son into his crib at night and then tumbling his mother into bed, rather than fighting with her about his custody while she’s Mrs. Somebody-Else. My desire dovetails nicely with the fact that, despite her fresh engagement, she will marry that banker over my dead body.

  “Sure. But how?”

  “In a word? Romance. I was going to wait to pursue Britta until after I secured my rights with Jamie. But that’s obviously not going to work, so I’m going to make us a fucking family now. I’m open to suggestions on sweeping her off her feet.”

  “Do you really want ideas from me?” he jokes. “I’ve made my own clusterfuck. And what does any of this have to do with Britta’s dining room table?”

  I laugh. “If I return it to her, she has to talk to me. If I can just spend time with her, show her who I am now, prove I simply want what’s best for Jamie—and for us—it might work out.” Even if the opportunity to woo her doesn’t pan out today, if I get to see my son, I’ll still consider it a win.

  “Sneaky. I like it. But I’m telling you, she’s going to be pissed.”

  I shrug. “Making Britta happy in the long run may require some short-term…discomfort until she realizes this will be best for us all.”

  But I’m worried she may have buried the love she once felt for me so far under her resentment I’ll never be able to exhume it, much less breathe life into it again.

  My brother shakes his head at me. “You’ve got balls, man.”

  “And you don’t? It still amazes me you spent the night with Keeley, then asked her to seduce me the next morning.”

  “What? It made sense at the time.”

  I roll my eyes. “That kind of logic only works if you have balls.”

  Maxon laughs. “Must run in the family. So, um…speaking of Keeley, did you talk to her last night?”

  “Yep.” I don’t say more. I’m having fun with my older brother’s frustration. God knows he used to torment the shit out of me when we were kids.

  “Don’t make me beat the conversation out of you. What did she say?”

  When I hear his real anxiety, I let up. I know now what it’s like to love a woman you’ve wronged and be worried she’s never coming back.

  “She mostly talked about her family. Phil’s birthday was yesterday. They went out to dinner.”

  Apparently, he tried to talk her into job hunting in Phoenix. She browsed some Internet sites and drove around…but she had a feeling staying there would be wrong. The desert is all well and good, but she’s missing the ocean. And I think she’s missing Maxon, too.

  “And?”

  I shrug. “She’s still thinking.”

  My brother looks like he’s ready to climb a wall. “It’s killing me to wait until Thursday to find out if she’s coming back.”

  “Hang in there. You have a solid plan. Everything in place?”

  That makes him smile. “Almost. If she returns to Maui and decides I’m the guy for her, I’ll make her so fucking happy.”

  I understand that sentiment. “Fingers crossed, man. You ready to haul this?”

  When Maxon nods, we each grab an end of the table and lift. We removed the leaf earlier—a necessity when my brother and his staff were using it as a conference table in their “war” room. Now it’s packed away in the back of my black Escalade.

  In short order, the table is also stored in my vehicle and we’re heading to Kihei. Weekend traffic is heavier than I’d hoped, which means it will take longer to reach Britta and Jamie.

  I’ve got to kill the time somehow… “Want to hear more of the music Keeley left me? I swiped the disc from my car.”

  Maxon grips his thighs tightly. I understand wanting to know more about the woman you love and yet not wanting to know, in case it’s some indication she’s going to hate you forever. I went through that with Britta after the split. Burying my head in the sand was easier. Probably why I had no idea she was pregnant.

  “Have you listened to more since we talked about it?”

  I shake my head. “She’s trying to give me a message I’m not sure I want.”

  He smiles fondly. “That’s Keeley. Go ahead. I’ll interpret if you need help.”

  “You?” I raise a brow at him. “Mr. Sensitivity?”

  Maxon scowls. “Play the damn CD already.”

  I bark out a laugh as I pluck the disc off the dash. Maxon removes it from the plastic case and slides it into the player.

  I forward through all I’ve already heard until I come to the new stuff. The next song has a distinctly country flavor. According to the case, it’s “Didn’t You Know How Much I Loved You” by Kellie Pickler. We listen in silence. I shift in my seat. Keeley definitely knows how to select music for maximum pain. As the lyrics roll on, she sings that she can’t get me out of her head, even though
I’ve left her alone in bed. She was fighting mad, vacillating between falling apart to not giving a damn… Jesus, I can almost feel how confused and decimated Britta must have been after the split.

  It’s not as if I never considered her feelings. I guess…I figured that if she could betray me by helping my brother stab me in the back, she must not care about me anymore. But Keeley knows the mind of a woman way better than I ever will, and she’s sending me a message I can’t miss.

  I was a dick and I crushed Britta’s heart.

  When the song finally ends, I turn off the player again and stare out at the traffic.

  “Ouch,” my brother says into the silence only broken by road noise.

  “Yeah.”

  “I see why you’re taking Keeley’s ‘musical suggestions’ in small doses.”

  “The woman always gets her point across, and it’s very often not in a straight line. Remember that.”

  Maxon nods slowly. “It’s a little like Mom, but much nicer.”

  I tense. The only topic I like discussing less than my breakup with Britta is our mother. “Thank god she lives in San Diego. If she and Dad both moved back to Maui, I’m sure there would be some form of family murder in our future.”

  My brother snorts. “Don’t be too thankful yet. According to Harlow, she’s looking for Dad. Plus, she’s coming out for Harlow’s wedding in May.”

  No idea how I’m going to handle that.

  “Well, Mommy Dearest hasn’t called me.” She’s not likely to. “And I am not about to call her.”

  “Boy, she must have pissed you off after I went to college.”

  You have no idea…

  Instead, I shrug. “As I’ve gotten older, I just see them both for who they are.”

  Maxon pulls at the back of his neck. “Me, too. How did we turn out halfway normal?”

  “Did we?” I ask—and I’m only half kidding. He and I are both massive bastards, though trying to reform. Our little sister, Harlow, seems like she’s in a better place, at least over the phone. But I haven’t seen her in a couple of years. So who really knows?

  “Good point.”

  Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up in front of Britta’s house. The windows are open. I hear the buzzing hum of a vacuum.

  As we climb out of the car, I snag the table leaf in my grip and head up the steps toward the door. Halfway up the yard, Maxon grabs my arm to pause me. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I already did. Now I’m here to fix it.” Then I shake off his hold.

  With a sigh, he follows to the porch. I raise my hand to the bell.

  Moments later, Britta pulls the door open. She’s wearing a white sports top that bares most of her flat stomach and a pair of black spandex shorts that start below her navel and end at the tops of her thighs.

  My eyes nearly bulge from my fucking head.

  “Maxon,” she greets happily, then looks at me with a frown. “Griff. What are you doing here?”

  He nudges me to reply. Thanks for smoothing my way, big brother.

  “Um, I changed my mind. About the desk. I’m going to bring in my own. Maxon told me the table belongs in your dining room, so we decided to bring it to you and clear out the space.” I hold up the leaf. “If you’ll tell us where you want it…”

  She gives me a wary look, opens the door wider, then points to an open area on the hardwood floors behind some stools lined up at a breakfast bar. “It goes over there.”

  Maxon nods. “Got it. We’ll get the table back in place. Two shakes.”

  He turns away, and I know I’m supposed to follow and help him, but I’m still staring at Britta. She crosses her arms over her exposed middle self-consciously. All she does is show me more of the cleavage she didn’t have before childbirth. The delicious curves of her hips are impossible to miss in these shorts. I know I should stop gawking but…damn.

  “You get more beautiful every time I see you.” The words slip out.

  She frowns and lifts a hand to smooth out the messy bun she’s sporting and the red bandana knotted at the top of her head. That goddamn engagement ring of hers picks up the sunlight and glints in my face.

  “I-I…” She blinks at me like she’s not sure how to reply. “Don’t—”

  “I’m not lying to you, just telling you my observation. And now that I’ve opened my big mouth, I’ll go help my brother.”

  I turn away before she can say another word. But I feel her eyes on me as I walk to the back of my SUV, where my brother is waiting for me with a barely suppressed grin.

  “Smooth,” he remarks as he grips one side of the table and starts easing it out.

  I grab the other side. “Shut up.”

  He chuckles as we lift the heavy slab of wood. The legs are tall, so we have to slide it clear of the SUV’s hatch. Then we flip it over and cart it to Britta’s door, settling it in the spot she indicated. It looks as if she’s already stored the leaf elsewhere.

  I glance around the house. It’s faintly tropical, earth tones with splashes of red here and there. And it’s spotless. That’s my angel. She likes things organized and simple. She has bins of toys tucked away in corners. The kitchen isn’t fancy but it’s functional. The whole place has a homey vibe.

  It reminds me of her.

  I wish I lived here with Britta and my boy. I’d miss the ocean view from my condo, but to see those two every day, I’d give the beach up in a heartbeat.

  “Where are the chairs?” Maxon asks.

  “I stored them in the spare bedroom. I’ll grab them.” She heads down the hall.

  “Let me help you.” I follow, watching the graceful sway of her hips. “Where’s Jamie?”

  She stops and whirls on me. “Napping. Don’t push me.”

  I hold up my hands. “Just asking.”

  “You were supposed to keep your distance until Monday.”

  That was never going to happen, and I won’t apologize when I’m not sorry for finally trying to make us a family.

  With a huff, she turns her back on me and opens the first door on the right. There’s a double bed with a woven gray comforter and a pair of white closet doors in one half of the room. The dining room chairs are lined up like soldiers between the two. In the other half of the room is a corner desk with a faintly modern flair and a sleek new iMac. Like everything else I’ve seen about this place, it’s neat and well put together.

  “Take this.” She lifts the first chair and proffers it to me, holding it between us.

  I take it from her grasp. “Got it.”

  The tension between us is a tingle prickling the back of my neck.

  “Thanks.” Her hands are shaking. Her gaze won’t quite meet mine.

  She’s visibly nervous. Because I make her feel something. Maxon swears she’s still in love with me. If I want Britta back, I need to tell her how I feel. It’s something I’ve historically sucked at. I also have to give her a reason to open up to me in return.

  This is my moment. My heart is thudding manically. Maxon stayed in the living/dining room. Jamie is surely sleeping in his crib. And we’re not in the office. This chance alone with her may not come around again soon. All I have to do is kick the bedroom door shut behind me.

  Anxiety nearly chokes me. But if I’m ever going to win her back, I can’t give Britta less than my all now.