I draw in a ragged breath. More tears are coming. I can feel them. “I am such an embarrassing cliché, but I really wanted to be the one who changed him. Like in the movies where the girl’s hoo-ha is so spectacular, the player guy is blind to all other hoo-has after one taste of hers. I wanted to be the one with the magical hoo-ha.” Shit. I’m crying again. Hard.
“You’re not a cliché. Nate promised me nothing more than sex too, and I fell in love with him. You’re not the first woman to think she can handle it and find herself falling for the guy anyway.”
“It was my fault.” I bring another bite of cookie dough to my lips then drop it when my stomach heaves in protest. “The way things were after that first time. I insisted I only wanted sex as much as he only wanted sex. So it became this joke between us. He’d tease me and flirt, thinking he was playing by my rules, but the whole time I was dying a little inside.”
“Liz, you should have told me.” She strokes my hair. “We’re supposed to talk about this stuff.”
“When I started talking to River, it was nothing, but then I started thinking he might be Sam and things escalated. Now I just feel . . .” I bite down on my lip, but the tears come anyway. “I feel like a fool who wanted something so much she was hellbent on seeing it.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sam
Della is the most beautiful mother in the world. I’ve never seen her happier than she looks with her new baby in her arms. The little bundle is wrapped in a blue-and-pink striped blanket, and happiness radiates off everyone in the room. Connor stands beside her, beaming at their new daughter, and something unrecognizable twists inside my gut.
Envy.
Jesus. I never thought I’d feel that, not about kids. I’m not supposed to feel it. I’ve never been anxious to get married or settle down, and I’m sure as hell not ready for kids. But something about seeing Della hold that baby makes some primal part of me respond.
“Hello,” I say to announce my presence. Everyone’s so entranced by the baby that I could probably stand here for hours before they noticed.
Connor looks up first. “Sam! Thanks for coming!”
I cross the room and shake my brother-in-law’s hand. “Congratulations. She’s beautiful.”
“Her name is Avery,” Della says. “After Grandma.”
Connor hands the baby to me, and I cradle her in my arms. The baby blinks and then seems to lock her eyes on mine. I don’t know if she can make out my face or not, but it feels like she can. Like she sees me and recognizes me.
“You’re a natural.”
I turn and shake my head at my mom, who apparently entered the room while I was caught under Avery’s spell. “A natural uncle,” I say. “I get to spoil her rotten and send her home.”
Mom looks to Della. “When is he going to find himself a wife and give me more grandbabies?”
“Hey, greedy, how many grandchildren do you need?” I ask.
“I bet Liz Thompson would make grandbabies with him,” Ryann singsongs as she joins us. “I caught them in quite the compromising position this morning.”
“Lizzy Thompson?” Mom says, her face splitting into a grin. “Really?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and feel Della’s scowl burning into me. Apparently she’s already forgotten her request in favor of hating all things connected to Liz. Next to me, Connor shifts awkwardly.
“Lizzy Thompson?” Della says, parroting Mom, minus the happiness. “Really?”
“What?” Leave it to Ryann to pick up on Della’s tone. “What’s wrong with Liz? I think they’re freaking adorable together.”
Della doesn’t reply. She won’t. She swore me to secrecy the day she told me she was pregnant with Connor’s baby and was going to marry him despite what had happened with Liz. Della, Connor, and I are the only people in this room who know the truth. Anyone else would think Liz would be a great match for me.
“Della doesn’t think anyone is good enough for her big brother,” Mom says as she steals Avery from my arms. “But Lizzy is a sweet girl.”
“She’s a slut,” Della says under her breath. Her serene, motherly glow is fading fast.
“Watch it,” I say. “Bitch is not your color, sis.”
Connor winces and flashes me an apologetic smile before turning back to his wife. “Del . . .” He squeezes her hand and then sinks into the chair next to her bed, and whispers something in her ear. Della’s stiff posture relaxes, and she sinks back, but not before flashing me a look that communicates just what she thinks of the woman I spent my night with.