More Than Need You

  settling her knees over my other forearm. She shrieks as I nestle her against my chest. To keep her balance, she tosses her hand around my neck. Her body feels like a blast furnace. No doubt, she has a raging fever.

  “Put me down,” she protests. “I can walk.”

  “But you don’t have to. Relax, angel. I’ve got you.”

  I start walking down the hall with her in my arms before she can renew her protests. “Which room is yours?”

  “The room I stored the chairs in.” She refuses to meet my gaze.

  In other words, the room in which I kissed her and tossed her down to the bed and touched her. “You don’t sleep in the master?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s on the other side of the house. Too far away from Jamie. He sometimes has nightmares and…”

  “Needs you at all hours?” I scowl. How like Britta to give up her comfort for those she loves. Her health simply won’t allow for that now.

  After an about-face, I head down the hall again and across the living room, where I spot a closed door on the far side.

  Britta sees my destination and starts wriggling with what little energy she has. “I can’t sleep there.”

  “You have to. Listen to me. I’ve got this.”

  “You’re not sleeping in my bedroom!”

  “Is Makaio coming back tonight?” I hate that thought, but I have to be practical at the moment.

  “No,” she croaks. “He has a big presentation on Friday. He can’t afford to get sick.”

  So he left Britta and Jamie to fend for themselves because he’s not man enough to handle a cough or a sniffle? Fucking uptight dick. It probably wasn’t “logical” to get sick when he could prevent it. But he’d leave a kid who’s not even three alone with a contagious mother who has a blazing fever? I’m not an experienced parent, but even I know that’s moronic.

  “Then I’m sleeping in your room and taking care of Jamie tonight.”

  She pushes at my chest. “You can’t. He might be upset if he has a nightmare and wakes to find you. When he’s afraid, he wants me and—”

  “I’ll handle it, Britta. Don’t be stubborn now. You can’t get better if you don’t rest.”

  After a pause, she sighs. “I guess you’re right.”

  I am. She simply doesn’t like it.

  I give her a nod, then shoulder my way into the master. There’s a king-size bed. The decor is somewhere between nonexistent and masculine. Everything is brown and bland and barely used. It looks like someplace Makaio would enjoy.

  Gritting my teeth, I set Britta on her feet gently and yank down the comforter to find cool white sheets. I help her into bed and tuck the blankets around her. “Let me see to Jamie. I’ll be back in ten.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she calls weakly to my retreating back.

  Ridiculous. Of course I’m going to worry about her.

  In the kitchen, I set Jamie on the counter and look at him eye to eye. “I’m Griff.”

  He thumps at his chest. “Jamie.”

  I teach him how to shake hands, then we make a game out of washing up, stopping just shy of a suds fight—mostly because I don’t want his giggling to keep Britta awake.

  Then I explain to him that I’ll be taking care of him while Mommy is sick before I set a peanut butter sandwich in front of him. He grunts and points at the refrigerator urgently until I realize he’s demanding grape jelly with it. Once I slap that on, too, I grab the yogurt and a spoon, then pluck a banana from the basket on the counter and chop it up. A glass of milk follows.

  In ten minutes, he’s demolished everything on his plate and is looking at me as if to ask where’s the rest?

  Wow, Britta wasn’t kidding. He’s a great eater.

  “What else do you want?”

  “Ice cream!”

  Of course. One of my favorites, too. I shouldn’t be surprised.

  I prowl through Britta’s freezer, but it’s empty of anything that looks like dessert. I sigh. Plan B. I have to feed Britta anyway.

  After rinsing Jamie’s plate and milk cup, I put both in the dishwasher and pause. The food wasn’t fancy…but I just fed my son for the first time. I don’t know if he feels like it was a bonding experience. Probably not. But I’m moved and oddly struck by how satisfying it was to take care of him.

  After wiping his hands and face clean, I lift him from his booster, then cart him through the front room and into the entry way. I spy Britta’s car keys on a foyer table and swipe them. “Want a little adventure?”

  When Jamie bobs his head excitedly, I smile at his infectious grin. I’ll bet he thinks we’re going to do something physical and maybe a little bit crazy. Britta will definitely need my help raising him from here on out.

  Silently, we sidle out the front door. I lock up behind me and head to Britta’s car. I would take mine, but a car seat in a Porsche convertible just doesn’t make much safety sense to me. So I press the button on her car fob, unlock the door, secure Jamie in his place, and head to town.

  We’re gone about twenty minutes. I make a special trip through the McDonald’s drive-thru for some ice cream for Jamie, then we’re back at Britta’s place with melting soft-serve and one of her favorites.

  As soon as I open the door, she’s standing in the foyer, looking as if she’s barely upright.

  “You had no right to take him—”

  “Angel, come sit before you fall down.” I shut the door behind me and let go of Jamie’s hand so I can help Britta to the sofa. I have our bags of goodies in the other.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t really have the energy to resist.

  “I was worried,” she says wearily as she sinks onto the nearest cushion.

  I grab a blanket from the back of the sofa and toss it over her lap. “I wanted to get something for us to eat and I didn’t want you to exert yourself with Jamie. Now give me one second. Our boy had a request…”

  She groans. “He conned you out of ice cream?”

  I pause. “Is this a regular occurrence?”

  “Almost daily.” She lays her head against the back of the sofa with a sigh and closes her eyes. “He’s good at getting what he wants from me, just like his father.”

  I send her a faint smile. She can’t see me. Hell, she’s half-asleep, and I wonder if she even knows what she said. It doesn’t matter. I know. And she has no idea yet how right I’m going to prove her.

  Eyeing Jamie’s bib, I hesitate. I already know he’s not great with a spoon. The yogurt was a valuable lesson in toddler messes, so I can’t leave him alone entirely with a cup of soft-serve. But I need to get Britta settled. She’s grown even paler in the last half hour, and I’m really worried.

  For lack of anything better to do, I rip a giant plastic trash bag in half and settle it on the kitchen floor. I strip Jamie down to his Pull-Up and set him in the middle with a plastic spoon and a warning to eat where he’s sitting and not to move. He gives me an absent nod before digging in.

  I know it’s going to be a mess, so I’m just not going to look.

  Instead, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and schlep Britta’s takeout over to her as I settle beside her on the sofa. “Hey, angel. I brought you one of your favorites.”

  I show her the bag from the deli we used to frequent when we lived together. Plain white with cheerful red lettering. Her eyes light up. “Tuna salad?”

  “And homemade potato chips.” I smile as I set everything up for her.

  “Did you get that caveman’s all-meat special you used to love?” she teases me.

  And it feels fantastic.

  I beat my chest. “Me, Ug. You, Ugga.”

  Even though her laugh is weak, I know it’s real.

  “That’s a yes. Thanks, Griff. And thanks for remembering.”

  No other way to describe it, her praise makes me feel warm and pretty damn proud. “What else can I get you?”

  “Nothing. We’ll be fine from here. I can give Jamie a bath soon and he’ll go—” />
  “No. I’ll give him a bath and put him to bed. You eat and then you rest.”

  I must look stubborn because she concedes with a sigh. “All right.”

  I check on Jamie while I grab my food from the kitchen counter. Yep, it’s a mess. I’ll deal with it in a few.

  As I settle in beside Britta, she takes the first bite and moans. “I’m in heaven.”

  “You can taste it?”

  “I’m congested, but I’d have to be dead to miss this flavor.” She takes another bite, and her pleasure sounds almost sexual. “I remember eating these at two a.m. after we’d been out barhopping most of the night. They always tasted so good then, especially when I knew we had to get up early for work the next day.”

  I remember. I also recall how many times we’d finish our sandwiches, shower up, and fall into bed, frantic and hungry for each other, then make love until damn near dawn.

  Why the fuck was I so stupid that I didn’t believe the devotion and happiness in my arms?

  After I’ve finished my sandwich, I look over to see she’s managed to eat half of hers, along with a few chips. I insist she drink more from the water bottle before I lift her and carry her back to bed.

  As I lay her on the mattress, it’s clear she’s fighting to keep her eyes open. She touches my arm. “I don’t know whether to thank you or ask you to stop before I get used to you taking care of me.”

  “You don’t have to do either,” I promise. I don’t need her thanks, and I definitely intend to be by her side—giving her whatever she needs—for the rest of her life. “Just rest.”

  Her faint smile slowly fades. “’K.”

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  But she’s already floating away to wherever her dreams have taken her. I kiss her forehead, resolving to bring some ibuprofen and whatever I can find that’s useful in her medicine cabinet as soon as I get Jamie in bed. Then I back out of the bedroom, leaving her to sleep alone in peace.

  I also promise myself it’s one of the last times in our lives that she’ll sleep without me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I got almost no rest, but the night was still beyond epic. I slept under the same roof as Britta. Not just under the same moon or in the same time zone or even on the same island, which was what I sometimes told myself in the past. But legitimately mere footsteps away.

  After giving Jamie a bath and reading him a couple of stories about puppies, I tucked him in. I made sure the kitchen was clean and the house was secure, then I checked on Britta to find her utterly sacked out. I glanced at my watch. Not even nine p.m.

  It’s late for Keeley, but I take a chance that she’s still awake and call her back.

  She answers on the second ring. “I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days. Everything all right?”

  “I had to think.”

  “What’s going on?” Concern rings in her voice.

  With a reluctant sigh, I fill her in. I’d rather not say anything but A) she gives great advice and B) she’ll only ask me a not-so-gentle avalanche of questions designed to dissect my thoughts. I’ve only ever been able to keep one secret from Keeley. I often wonder if she’s managed to fill in the blanks anyway.

  When I finish my recap of recent events, she pauses. “What are you going to do?”

  “I planned to romance Britta, but when she got sick, I had to scrap my intimate lunch for two.” I’d managed to finagle some private catering on the rooftop of a hotel with amazing views that went on forever. Once we were alone, I intended to be as honest as I could about my life, my past, my regrets. I hoped being that real with her would prove I was a different man and she would change her mind about Jamie, Makaio…everything. “It was a good strategy, but in retrospect, the issue isn’t simply my relationship with her but with Jamie, too. Britta needs to see what life with the three of us together would be like. She needs to believe I intend to stay and be good to them.”

  “You’re in her house with your son now,” Keeley points out. “It’s a start, right?”

  “I’m caretaking and babysitting, not wooing and bonding.”

  “Yeah, but it’s helpful. I guess it’s not what you had in mind.”

  “Britta will be well in a few days, and the fiancé will slink back. Then one of those two will heave-ho me out of the house. And I’ll be back to square one.”

  Not making amends with Britta. Not forging a relationship with Jamie.

  I’m not tolerating that.

  “I know that tone in your voice,” she says suspiciously. “You’re scheming something.”

  “I’m not.” Yet. But, all right, I’m thinking about it. No masterful strokes of genius have lit my bulb so far.

  She sighs. “I’d tell you to stop and win her back with your heart, but I’m not sure you can suppress your ruthlessness for that long.”

  “I’ve been trying to do this the right way.” But I don’t know if it’s working out.

  “Well, that’s a start. I know you’ll probably ignore me but… Tread carefully or you’ll talk yourself into something reckless you’ll only have to repent for later.”

  “This is a go-big-or-go-home situation.”

  “Griff…” Keeley warns.

  “Think about it. When I walked out on her, it changed her life. It was a huge deal. Can I really approach her quietly, hat in hand, and expect her to welcome me back? I have to be more than sorry. I have to prove I’ve changed and that nothing is more important to me than her and our son.”

  “But you can’t force her to accept that. Her asking you to sign those papers was like caution tape. She’s clearly feeling threatened, so—”

  “I feel threatened, too. She blindsided me by asking me to relinquish my parental rights, and the terms? Fucking draconian. There’s no way I’ll ever agree. But if I’m ever going to earn her forgiveness so we can live happily ever after, I can’t let this shit make me angry. I have to get smart.”

  And yeah, maybe a little ruthless.

  “You could be right. At the moment, I’m questioning my own wisdom. And I can’t help with ideas to win Britta back since I’m not feeling very grand-romantic-gesture. I mean…It’s great that Maxon respected the space I asked for.” She sounds anything but thrilled.

  I laugh. “He asks about you every day. To say he wants you is an understatement, somewhere in the league of me stating that the universe is big. Are you getting on the plane in”—I look at the time on my phone—“eight hours?”

  She lets out a tortured breath. “I still don’t know. Maybe.”

  “What do you need so you know for sure?”

  “Probably to see Maxon, but that’s what I’m most afraid of. I’m so in love with him that I’m worried after one glance, I’ll sweep everything under the rug.”

  “You? Nah. Though I always believed you had better taste in men…” I tease to lighten the mood. After I work a chuckle out of her, I get serious. I owe her for all the times she talked me through my personal shit. In fact, I can never truly repay Keeley. “Look, I know my brother. He…can be thoughtless. He’s driven. Like you said, he wants what he wants when he wants it. But I’ve never seen him actually love anyone—until you. I’m not just saying that. You know few people are as important to me as you, so I’d never lie. I think if you gave him another chance, he’d do his best to