Scoring the Billionaire(50)

I scoffed in response. "Proud of me? You are an asshole," I said a bit  too loudly as I stood up from the table and tossed my napkin down.

"Seven years ago, you never would have spoken to me this way. You never would have stood up to me like this."

"I would have. I did."

His eyes creased at the corners, visible pain resting behind his retinas. "You're wrong, Win."

I turned to leave, and he reached out to take my hand one more time. "Sit down. Please?"

My fists clenched and my molars nearly cracked, but I sat down and raised my brows.

"You're right, now. You and that fire and everything you do for our daughter."

I gripped the edge of the table to stop myself from doing something  ridiculous like throwing my wineglass at his head. "Let's be honest  here. She's never been our daughter. She is my daughter. I have raised  her, and I will continue to raise her. I am the one who has provided for  her. I have kept her safe and warm. I have loved her with everything I  have. And I have always been there for her."

"Exactly. That's the fire."

I laughed without humor and closed my eyes. "What in the hell is your point here?"

Goddammit, one more crazy conversation with a man and I was going to scratch my own eyes out.

His perfect teeth shone in the light as he opened his smile wide, teasing, "Maybe I am still in love with you."

"Nick, goddammit."

His fucking cheeky smile grew. "Kidding, Win. But holy hell, I can't wait to be friends."

Friends with the irresponsible, nonexistent father of my child?

God help me.

I crossed my arms over my chest and sank into my seat like a sullen child, and he laughed again.         

     



 

"Not leaving?" he asked, and I scowled.

Who was he to run me off, anyway? If one of us left, it would be him.

At least …  "Not before my soup."





There came a time in one's life when all the details became no more than bullshit.



Or maybe I'm the one full of shit. But to me, these little tiny nuggets  of perceived wisdom feel like truth. So, yeah. Deal with it.



How was I going to make my schedule work? Would I be able to make every  single commitment? Were we actually compatible with one another? Yadda,  yadda, yadda.

See, I finally realized the ultimate answer, the master key, the solution to all my problems and heartbreak and man angst.

I wanted Winnie, and I wanted to be the best father I could to Lex. I loved them both, and the rest of it … didn't matter.

I'd left the hospital dejected-completely and totally lost and seriously  doubting everything about myself. My stupid casual take on life that  I'd held on to for so long and the falsehood that Winnie somehow owed me  something now that I'd had the great romantic epiphany.

Oh, I'm ready now, Winnie. I'm ready to take you seriously and give you  everything I can, but only now that I've been faced with the  consequences of my selfish actions.

The more I thought about it as I ambled through Central Park until the  sky turned completely midnight, the hour growing too late for even the  moon, the more disgusted with myself I became.

Winnie Winslow didn't owe me a goddamn thing.

She'd given me several of the best months of my life, and I'd put more  effort in with her than I ever had with anyone before. But what made a  man was not the absence of mistakes, but rather, the way he handled them  when he made them.

And, apparently, I was complete shit at the whole handling thing.

Change within a person wasn't easy, but I was determined to try. And it  was all going to start with the way I looked at things. Instead of  skimming the surface, I'd delve deeper. And that wasn't a promise to  Winnie or Lexi or some third party, but to myself. I wanted to be the  guy who saw things for how they really were. The guy who didn't fly off  the handle in a jealous rage and the kind of guy who listened when  people spoke.

And, as I climbed the last flight of stairs on the way up to my  apartment-content to bask in my wandering so much that I'd done fourteen  floors the old fashioned way-a hello from the sun now brightening the  once dark sky, I knew that included the way I looked at Winnie's time  with Nick last night.

From this newly found rational place, the truth was surprisingly clear  and all boiled down to one simple statement: Winnie Winslow was no  goddamn idiot.

She wouldn't be going out on a date with Nick, the halfway decent guy,  but completely absent father to her child just because of what had  happened between us. She'd said it best herself-she deserved better.

We all did.

And Nick wasn't better for her or Lex.

But I still could be. I could be better for them and better for me, and I  could do all of it whether Winnie wanted to take a chance on me  romantically again or not.

This wasn't a world of absolutes, all or nothings.

And in the face of being told I couldn't have it all, I still knew I didn't want nothing.

Nothing in this life was black and white. It was very much gray, and I  hoped to God I could find the shade that Winnie would approve.

"It's about fucking time you showed up," Remy greeted, his back to the  wall and ass to the floor right beside the door to my apartment and  sleep wrinkling even the casual cotton of his clothes.

Jesus Christ. What was he doing here?

"What the fuck?" I asked without mentioning that he'd startled me. Remy  Winslow never needed new ammunition to razz anyone. He found enough all  on his own.

"I've been here all night." He stood up with a tight smirk covering his  lips and brushed his hands down the tops of his thighs on a sigh, as if  he was disgusted by the pristine conditions of my apartment building.  "Might want to think about letting your landlord know the cleaning  service ain't up to snuff here."

See what I mean?

I wasn't one to boast about my style of living, but I sure as shit didn't own an apartment over a fucking deli in Jersey.         

     



 

"You've been here all night?" I questioned, more than confused by the  unexpected visit from the very last person on this planet who wanted to  hang out with me.

"Did I fucking stutter? I've been here all night waiting for you."

I couldn't stop the surprise from suffusing my features. Especially since he'd been the one to take Lexi home.

"Where's Lexi?"

"At home with Winnie. Some of us don't stay out all night."

Given where she'd gone when she left the hospital, I had to admit, that was a relief.

"And if you were out fucking some other woman, let me just tell you right now, I don't want to know."

I rolled my eyes and ran a hand through my hair. "I was just walking around Central Park."

"Strange place to fuck a woman," Jude offered as he rounded the corner  of the hall that ran perpendicular to my door and down to more  apartments.

"You're here too?" I asked, as the other two stooges rounded the same corner with smiles of their own.

"I hope you had Mace," Ty remarked, but Flynn just smirked.

"What are all of you doing here?" I asked, pushing past them and  unlocking my door. With a splayed hand, I held it open for all of them  and watched as they filed inside in front of me.

"Holy shit!" Jude yelled from the front.

Everything happened quickly then, the yelp and the sharp cry of pain followed by Thatch's not-sorry-at-all apology.

"Whoops," he said through a laugh. "Sorry, man."

I shoved through the crowd just as a sleepy Kline sat up on my couch and put his feet to the floor.

"Jesus Christ," I remarked. "Did I not get the invitation to the goddamn party at my own apartment?"

Thatch smiled as Jude climbed slowly to his feet. He looked like he was in pain-and yeah, I smiled a little at that.

"What the fuck?" Remy questioned, glancing back and forth between Kline  and Thatch. "You guys have been here all night? Why didn't you answer  the goddamn door?"

"Kline had an emergency key," Thatch explained and then looked at Remy  with a knowing smirk. "And I don't answer the door when it's not my  fucking place."

"A key that will soon be revoked," I replied as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Hey, all I did was break in and sleep on your couch," Kline said in defense of himself.

The room was completely full of people-for some unknown reason-and yet  no one said a word until I prompted them. "Okay, guys. What the hell are  you doing here?"

Of course, then they all spoke at once.

This was why we needed smart women like Winnie, Georgia, and Cassie  around. Christ, I was sure some men functioned on their own, but they  weren't in this group.

"Guys!" I yelled over the white noise. And when that didn't work, one sharp whistle did the trick.

"Everyone shut up." All six of them smirked at me.

"Remy," I said, directing only him to answer. "What are the four of you doing here?"

"We came to make sure you knew Winnie didn't go on a date with Nick."

"Nick?" Thatch bellowed, and then lowered his voice to a dramatic  whisper when I glared at him. "Lexi's father, Nick? That Nick?"