He stares into Twin A’s face—they haven’t decided which name goes with which baby yet—and then shifts his gaze to look into Twin B’s eyes. It’s the most sacred thing I’ve ever witnessed.
And then Dex bursts into tears.
He contains his sobs so that the babies aren’t jostled in any way, but the tears stream down his face unimpeded, causing tears to form in my own eyes.
“Fatherhood looks awesome on you, Dex,” I say, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand and stepping forward to dab at his with some of the hospital’s tissues.
“I didn’t realize it would be so wet,” he says in a dry tone that can’t hide his all-encompassing joy.
I snap thirty pictures on my phone. Bee will want to see this the moment she’s awake.
The sight of Dex holding his daughters, cradling them both so tenderly, breathing in their baby scent, delighting in every move they make with their tiny balled-up fists, is salt in the wound of my broken heart.
The broken heart I gave to myself.
This is what I want, I think, looking at him. A man to be my partner instead of a boss. A man who will look at our baby like this.
Jax could be that man.
I dismiss the thought.
Didn’t he prove to me that he can’t set aside his own selfish desires to respect mine?
My stomach twists. Even that is a lie. He cared for me when he didn’t have to. He made sure I had everything my heart desired.
Somehow, he must have been trying to do the same thing when he had me fired from my job, but I wouldn’t settle for his explanation.
I wouldn’t even hear him out.
Then, to twist the knife even more, I took advantage of his generosity and flew here on his private plane.
What made me into such a monster?
The answer is there before I have to look for it: my fear of failing.
Failing, as in not working hard enough to be considered valuable. Failing, as in being forced into making a decision I do not want without a safety net.
I’ve been so terrified by it that I’ve let everything in my life fall by the wayside except Sandra, who doesn’t, in the end, care a single iota about what happens to me.
Jesus, I was so stupid.
“Cate?”
Dex’s tone is soft, and I realize I’ve been lost in thought.
“Yeah, Dex?”
“Could you take a video of all of us? Bee isn’t going to want to have missed this. As soon as she’s awake…”
My sister is still recovering from her surgery, sleeping deeply, the nurses say, and I know Dex is absolutely right.
I pull out my phone and hit record, knowing while I’m doing it that I’m capturing some of the most precious moments in a human’s life.
I only wish Jax was by my side to see it with me.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jax
Cate is gone.
She flew away on the private plane that I offered to her without a fucking second thought, like I’m some kind of whipped idiot who’s in over his head.
I am in over my head.
Was.
When she leaves, her back retreating out the door, I go into the kitchen. I tell Laurence to take the rest of the night off. I send Gloria an email letting her know that I won’t be needing her in the morning, and I tell everyone else on staff except for Peter that I’ll contact them in a couple of days.
I don’t want to see anyone I don’t have to see.
The first night she is gone, I mix a drink so strong it could be paint thinner. I sit on my couch alone, watching some shitty movie about car racing that I didn’t like when it came out and I don’t like any better now.
The next day, I try to work out with my trainer and act like everything is fine, but the guy seems like something’s bothering him.
“Should we end the session, Carl? You seem distracted,” I say, sounding far more like an asshole than I intend.
“Nope. I’m all good to go. Sorry about that. I have a friend on my mind today.”
“Let’s focus on the workout then.”
“Fine by me.”
Carl is the only one, aside from Peter, who comes and goes—and that’s only because if I’m going to allow myself to wallow like this, I at least have to stay in some semblance of shape. And Carl is divorced from every other aspect of my life, so there’s not much chance of awkwardness.
As the second day passes, and then the third, I retreat farther into my penthouse. I let Gloria return on the fourth day, but I leave when she’s there, haunting the city in my Aston Martin like a pathetic ghost, a billionaire who still found a reason to feel sorry for himself.
Aside from giving my staff an inexplicable vacation and spending my evenings drinking in front of the TV, I put all of my effort into playing this whole thing so fucking cool that even I almost believe it.