Page 83 of Second Dance
He understood. His arms tightened around me, and he kissed me back like he was memorizing the taste of me, the feel of me. Like he’d been waiting just as long.
That night, after more talking and kissing and other things that left me breathless and glowing, we fell asleep with the window cracked open. Crickets sang in the darkness. Oak leaves whispered their secrets.
His arm lay over my waist, heavy and sure, and I threaded my fingers through his, pulling his hand up to rest against my heart. His breath warmed the back of my neck, each exhale a soft reminder that he was here, that this was real.
I pressed back against him, fitting myself into the curve of his body. Safe. Satisfied. And something else—something I’d almost forgotten I could feel.
Alive.
Not just wanted. Not just loved. But devastatingly, gloriously alive.
For so long, I’d been Grace’s mom, and that had been enough. More than enough. But somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten what it felt like to be a woman—one with desires and dreams that had nothing to do with bedtimes and permission slips.
Alex’s arm tightened around me in his sleep, and I smiled into the darkness.
This was what I’d been missing. Not just any man. Not just any love. But this man. This love. The one I’d carried through all the empty years, tucked away in the corner of my heart where hope still flickered.
He’d come back to me.
And this time, I was never letting go.
17
ALEX
The day after we returned from Napa, I sat in Ben’s conference room across from Darren. He slouched in his chair like a troublemaking teen in English class, tapping his fingers on the armrest, eyes darting around the room like he was casing the place. When he shifted forward, the sour tang of cigarette smoke and cheap beer followed.
Next to me, Ben slid a neat folder across the polished oak. “This is the finalized agreement we discussed,” he said evenly. “Mr. Kincaid, you relinquish your parental rights to Peter and Isabella, and, in exchange, Mr. Garcia will provide a lump-sum payment.”
Darren didn’t touch the folder. He smirked instead, yellowed teeth flashing. “So that’s how it works in your world, huh? You throw money at the problem. Buy the kids from me?”
My fingers curled against my thighs, nails biting into my palms. “Darren, don’t pretend like you’ve ever wanted them. You’ve been an absent criminal.”
He watched me for a beat too long, gaze calculating. “And I’m just supposed to roll over? Just like that?” He let out a bark of laughter.
“Let’s not pretend you want anything out of this but money,” I said. “At least be honest about that.”
“The offer’s on the table,” Ben cut in smoothly. “It ensures you walk away clean and gives Alex the chance to adopt the children formally. Children he has raised. Children who think of him as their father. You walk away with a clean slate and a generous payout.”
Darren finally reached for the folder, leaving a greasy smudge on the glossy surface. He flipped through the pages like he could actually read the legalese, before getting to the lump sum section.
We’d been generous enough to tempt a man who lived in chosen poverty, but hardly a dent in my accounts.
Darren’s lips pursed. He tapped the page once, twice. “It’s not enough. Two kids? That’s gotta be worth more. I mean, how bad do you really want them?”
My jaw locked, molars grinding together. I’d spent years searching for this man—private investigators, skip tracers, dead-end leads. All of it had broken my wife’s heart over and over again. And now he had the audacity to negotiate. I’d never felt so close to murderous in all my life.
Ben’s voice stayed calm, practiced. “It’s more than generous, given your history of abandonment. Their mother is deceased, Mr. Kincaid, and Alex has raised them for over a decade. If we go to court, your criminal record will not help you. This is the best outcome for you.”
I leaned forward, fists clenched in my lap. “Payment for doing absolutely nothing except what you do best—disappear.”
“I’ll think about it.” Darren leaned back with his arms crossed. “Maybe have my attorney look at it.”
“If you had an attorney, you’d have brought him with you today,” I said. “Stop lying and sign the papers. For once in your life, do the right thing for the children you helped create but leftwithout a backward glance. The longer you drag this out, the more they suffer. Don’t you see that?”
A smirk of satisfaction flickered across Darren’s face. He sensed my boiling point and was loving every minute of it. He shoved the folder back across the table. “Like I said, I’ll think on it.” He stood, sauntering out of the room as if he’d won something. The door clicked shut behind him.
I couldn’t move. My chest felt like someone had laced it too tight, my pulse hammering in my ears. Through the window, I watched him climb into a rusted pickup truck, pausing to light a cigarette before he pulled away.
