Page 83 of A Fool's Game

“The hell you will,” Taylor growls, out of his own seat and on my heels before I even realize what’s happening.He takes my arm and leads me back out the door we came in, back down the long hallway, into the bright lobby.The sign on the door of the ladies’ room glows gold in the sunset light, and I head straight for it, Taylor not even pausing at the door before following me in.

I rest my elbows on the black granite countertop and cradle my head. “I’m such an idiot.”

The door swings open once more, and I prepare myself to apologize for bringing a man into the ladies’ room but it’s just Ainsley.

“I’m sorry I ruined dinner,” I say.

He scoffs, moving past where Taylor is leaning on the counter next to me and slipping both arms through my arms, around my chest, pulling me up and into him. “You didn’t ruin anything. He shouldn’t have brought that up.”

The relief of feeling so safe in the moment allows the tears I prayed wouldn’t come to escape. I cry harder as I think of going back to the table in that fancy restaurant with ruined makeup.

“I’m going to kill him,” Ainsley mutters as I sob.

“Not if I kill him first,” Taylor says behind him.

“No, no.” I shake my head and try to stand on my own, settling for only leaning part of my weight on Ainsley, resting my back on the low countertop. “He apologized. He said the exact thing I’ve been wanting him to say for all these years.”

“Why are you still so upset, then?” Ainsley asks earnestly, just like The Fool would.

I shake my head and meet his gaze, all bright, worried, and angry. “I thought if I ever got to tell him it was his fault and he apologized, I’d feel better. But it didn’t change anything. She’s still gone. I’m still alone.”

“You are not alone, lover,” Taylor says softly, moving closer so he’s leaning on the counter right next to me, slipping an arm around my waist so we’re tucked in together, both facing Ainsley where he stands close in front of us.

I bow my head and Taylor bows his, bringing his chin to the top of my head. After a moment, Ainsley joins us, three heads bowed together in a moment of silence for my loss. For Ainsley’s loss. For the loss that life brings us all if we’re lucky enough to survive.

“We don’t have to go back in there. We can go up to the room,” Taylor offers, sacrificing his opportunity to eat at the award-winning restaurant for me.

But I won’t accept that. “It’s okay. I’m just going to clean myself up and we can go back to the table.”

“Are you sure?” he asks as I turn to face the mirror, catching his concerned gaze in the reflection.

I nod. “I just needed a minute to catch my breath.” I wipe at the smeared eye make-up, using one of the hotel’s fancy paper towels to do a pretty good job of making it look like I didn’t just have an emotional breakdown. I wonder if that’s what they put them in here for. I wonder how often women like me have to pull themselves together in the bathroom, suck it up, and head back out to the big, scary world.

Glancing back up at the men reflected behind me, the heat from their bodies warming my bare skin, I wonder how many of those women have such a steadfast support system in place. If even one of them have two men standing guard over the bathroom sink as she collects herself.

I know the answer.

Turning, I smile and look at each of my guys in turn. “I’m not alone, am I?”

“Never,” Taylor says, at the same time Ainsley responds, “No way,” with a shake of his head.

“Ready to do this?” I ask, wondering if I am, indeed, ready to walk back in there and face the shame of having run out in tears after accusing Ainsley’s dad of killing my mom.

“Ready when you are,” Ainsley responds, holding the door for us to pass through.

Chapter 29

Taylor

“What did we miss?” Gem asks Ben and Victoria politely as I help her back into her chair. She smiles up at Ben from her seat, a peace offering.

He accepts graciously and allows us to move past it all. “Nothing. They cleared the snapper course, and we’re on a break before they bring out the lamb.” He gestures to the giant, round goblet that’s replaced the tall white wine glass in front of our place settings.

I take mine with both hands, letting the aroma of the red fill my senses. “Where do they get lamb on this island?” I ask him, shifting the focus onto me.

“Dominic has a farm raise the animals just for us,” Ben says.

“Did I hear my name?” A tall, dark, imposing figure of a man in black chef regalia appears at the end of our table.

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