“Tell me all your words,” Story murmured, lips brushing my chest. “The ones you’re keeping on your shoulders. What happened to Lottie, to the du Lacs? What happened while I was waiting?”
“I reminded them of the prenup Lottie signed. I get everything. I said I might be willing to overlook it, if they got the fuck out before the sun goes down.”
Story lay her head on my chest, one arm wrapped around my torso.
Perfect.
I exhaled, all the tension releasing from my limbs for the first time in months. This was fucking perfect—my wife where she belonged, in my bed.
“How are you, Atlas?” she murmured. She lifted her head, eyes finding mine.
I looked away from her probing eyes, to the clearing sky. Stars were appearing between the fading clouds, lonesome bright spots.
“If she’d just told me the truth, none of this would have happened. You never would have…” I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palm. “We could have left. All of these months…we could have left. We’d be happy.”
“Would we?” she asked.
My eyes found hers, already staring at me.
“You lied to me that night. I didn’t know you were going to destroy your family, and I never would have been happy if you’d done that, Grayson, because you wouldn’t have been happy. I’ve been wondering if this was really all just destiny. And that night—”
I looked away, swallowing thick and cottony. “That was still my fault. Her fault.”
I ground my teeth, focusing on the pain in my jaw, trying to see past the red in my eyes.
Story crawled up my chest, palms on either side of my face. “I am mad at Lottie, not because she kept us apart, because…well nothing keeps us apart, not really. I’m mad at how much pain this has put you through. I see the struggle, the fear that you’ve become your father. So I’m mad at her for that.”
“That’s funny…” I dragged my thumb across her bottom lip. “I’m not mad at her for that. At least now I know without a shadow of a doubt I’m not him. But I don’t think I can forgive her.”
Story’s throat bobbed with her swallow.
“What? Speak, Snitch. I can always tell when you have a secret, anyway.”
“I don’t think she could accept your forgiveness. She told me she had a secret, and it was killing her to keep it, but telling it would ruin everything. I asked her who it would hurt the least, if she told it or if she kept it. So, I guess she chose you—chose us—and not her mother.”
I know how much Lottie depended on her mother. Without her mother, she was truly, utterly alone.
And that pissed me off, because I wanted to hate her.
We fell into a sweet silence. Story lay on top of me as much as she could with her pregnant stomach, one leg wrapped around mine. I stroked her back, between the shoulder blades.
“Are you still planning on giving the coins to your grandfather?” she asked.
“You want to leave Crowne Point, right?” I asked. She worked her mouth, silently drawing pictures on my chest. “It’s our only option, Snitch.”
“There has to be another way.” She lifted her head, eyes meeting mine. “Another way than giving someone like him all that power.”
“There is.”
Her glare shot to mine. “Another way than you giving up your freedom.”
We stared at each other for a moment.
“What are you thinking?”
“I think…” Leaving might not be an option. Maybe it never was. “You can’t leave this bed, ever again.”
She bit her lower lip, a smile twitching her cheeks. “What if I get hungry?”