Chapter Seventeen

The best method for keeping the mind busy was a good cleaning.

Kim lifted the iron grills from the stove and dumped them in the soapy water in the sink before returning and scrubbing down the appliance. Not that she’d done a lot of cooking in her apartment—she was the takeout queen—but dust could’ve accumulated.

Most women might not consider cleaning an ideal activity for a Friday night. But when your mind wouldn’t stop whirling and replaying the most painful moment of your life, only this task with its repetition and physicality would do.

Work did the trick, too. But she couldn’t camp out at her office 24/7. And if she paused too long, the memory of two days ago would crash over her, drowning her in its dark, agonizing undertow.

But the fact that you’re so desperate lets me know you love me, too. You’re just too afraid to admit it and take what you want.

She switched to the oven, scrubbing harder.

You’re going to have to open that door.

She moved back to the top of the stove.

And I’m also the man who loves you.

She moved to the individual grills. If not for her gloves, her fingers would probably be scratched to hell by the Brillo pad. Right now, they ached from all the abuse she’d put them through for the past two hours.

You’re okay, she silently whispered to herself. You’re okay. She’d been in this place before—hurt and alone. And she’d survived. This wasn’t any different.

God, she was such a liar. Even to herself. This was nothing like the last time. It burrowed deep, like a barb-tipped shaft. This was so much worse. If she could amputate the agony, she would, just so it would stop.

The doorbell pealed, and she tossed the wire cleaning tool into the water. Forgetting to check the peephole, she wrenched the door open, gloves still on and dripping, desperate to escape her thoughts, her memories…herself.

She stared at the people on the other side, dumbfounded.

“Oh shit, pumpkin, we got here just in time. She’s been cleaning,” her sister-in-law Morgan Bishop drawled, Caitlin, Kim’s baby niece, cuddled in her arms.

Kim blinked, switching her gaze from Morgan to her brother Alex. She met his eyes, identical to hers, in the frowning, hard, and much-loved face that had been her security blanket since she was fifteen.

A sob tore out of her throat, catching her by surprise. But when the first one erupted, there was no stopping the others. She threw her arms around her brother, weeping as if her heart had been shattered.

Because it had been.

From beside them, Morgan sighed. “Let me put the baby down for a nap. Then we’ll find out whose nuts require cracking.”

…

“Where’s Morgan?” Kim asked her brother, her voice hoarse and rough from her crying jag.

Alex set a cup of tea down in front of her where she sat, curled up on her couch. As the aroma from the steaming cup drifted to her nose, she instantly recognized it—the ginger tea Ronin had brought by her office. God, that night seemed so long ago, when it’d only been two weeks. So much had occurred in those fourteen days. She had a miscarriage scare, spent days in his home, had the hottest sex of her life, had her personal life aired out in the media—for the second time—and Ronin had told her he lo—

Yeah, she wasn’t going down that particular road, or else she might fall apart again.

“She’s in your guest bedroom with Caitlin. She’s cranky.”

Kim snorted. “Which one?”

A ghost of smile flirted with his mouth. “Caitlin. But Morgan’s a close second. Seeing you cry has her in there watching the Home Shopping Network and looking for a sharp knife set.”

Alex’s humor was extremely dry, but considering who they were talking about, Kim might not put that little shopping spree past Morgan. Her sister-in-law was positively fierce when it came to her family. She’d defended and adopted Kim as hers right in front of Malcolm when he’d dared to slight Kim. In that moment, Morgan had become her hero, while Kim had become the bridesmaid in Morgan’s fake-engagement, non-existent wedding to Alex. Her brother and his “fiancée” had colluded to con Malcolm into believing they were engaged so Alex could inherit his birthright of the family company. Malcolm had decreed Alex needed to be engaged or married in order to become CEO of Bishop Enterprises—a position Alex had earned many times over. And Morgan had needed to save the building where the nonprofit organization she worked for resided, or they—and the women and children they helped—would’ve been out on the street. But what had begun as a fake relationship had ended up being a real love story that would’ve made a great Hollywood movie, complete with a wedding and a beautiful baby girl.

“So tell me why I had to find out my little sister was pregnant on Loose Lipsa Lot?” Alex asked, arching a dark eyebrow.

“I’m sorry—loose what?”

He shrugged. “Some gossip site Morgan trolls. You’re the big news of the week, Kim. Apparently, a football player knocking up an executive in one of the nation’s biggest corporations is hot shit. Or else it’s a slow week.”

She stared down into the dark brown depths of her cup. Just imagining what those sites were saying had her stomach churning. They’d been greedy and vicious when she and Matt had divorced.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, this time apologizing for not telling him about the baby sooner. “I actually meant to call you last weekend, but I was playing catch up after the scare—”

“Scare?” Alex barked, propping his elbows on his thighs. “What scare? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she assured him. Of course, he would be worried. He’d been right by her side when she’d suffered her first miscarriage.

“Maybe you should start from the beginning,” he said. And it wasn’t a suggestion but an order not to be disobeyed from her big brother.

She started from their meeting at the expo and spilled everything, skipping only the details about the hot sex. Because, seriously. Her brother. By the time she was halfway through, Morgan joined them, sitting on Alex’s lap. The casual, almost absentminded way he wrapped his arms around his wife, never taking his attention from Kim, caused a lump of emotion to lodge in her throat. And she convinced herself that emotion wasn’t envy.

By the time she finished, she needed that tea to moisten her tongue and throat.

“So, let me get this straight,” Morgan mused, tapping her bottom lip with a fingertip. “This Ronin rips open his chest, lays it all out there, and tells you he loves you and wants both you and the baby. And you walk away from him.” She nodded. “Yep, you and Alex are definitely related.”

Alex groaned. “How long are you going to keep bringing that up?” he growled.

Morgan beamed, totally unrepentant. “I don’t know. Exactly how many hours are in forever?”

Alex mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “God help,” but then, pinned Kim with a narrowed stare. “I believe once upon a time you told me—and I quote—‘If insight was lard, I couldn’t grease a skillet with yours.’ Then you called me an idiot for standing by and watching the woman I loved walk out and not doing anything. Sound familiar?”

Damn you, Dr. Phil.

Alex smirked at her grimace. “I see it does. Kim, I love you. Which means we can be honest with each other when we can’t with anyone else. Even ourselves.” He sighed and rubbed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. When he dropped his arm, clouds darkened his gray eyes. “Dad did a number on you. Even before you officially met him, when the only thing you ever saw of him was checks in the mail, he made you feel unworthy. And then later, Matt came along and hammered in that fucking nail. They’re both selfish, self-centered bastards who imposed their own insecurities and issues on you. And whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve taken on their shit.”

She parted her lips to deny it, but then at the last second, closed them. Almost as if she conjured it, she recalled the afternoon when Malcolm had come to her office. When she’d asked herself what had she done to make him dislike her so much. To not love her.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Alex murmured. “I know you better than anyone. You don’t think you’re worthy of love, of that dream Ronin offered you. Matt? Matt was safe. You loved him, yes, but your lives weren’t mingled. You lived in two separate residences for the most part, and you had separate lives. Safe. You were devastated when he cheated, but you moved on, you recovered. Tell me something. Would it be so easy with Ronin?”

The image of Ronin with another woman, kissing her, touching her, flashed across her mind’s eyes, and her stomach wrenched with pain and a spasm of nausea. No, she wouldn’t recover as easily. But she knew that; she’d admitted as much to herself already. Dust. He would leave her like dust.

“You were more invested in the marriage than you were in Matt. Because if you loved him as desperately, as deeply, as essentially as I do Morgan, you wouldn’t have been able to live like that. And I think, I honest to God hope, you’ve found that with Ronin.” His arms tightened around his wife. “Let Ronin show you how worthy, how loved you are. Don’t let him go because you’re afraid of rejection, of being hurt. You deserve every happiness. You and my niece or nephew. Take it, Kim. Drag on those big girl panties and take it.”

“Do you love Ronin?” Morgan asked. “Don’t think about it. Don’t overanalyze. From the hip, Kimmy. Do you love him?”

Did she?

Air rasped in and out of her chest on shallow breaths.

“Holy fuck!” Morgan screeched. In a move that would’ve been worthy of Simone Biles, she leaped off of Alex’s lap and launched over the arm of the chair. Her feet must have touched the floor at some point, but Kim must’ve blinked because she missed it. Her sister-in-law crouched behind the chair, still screaming at the top of her lungs. “Jesus on a taco shell, that thing is—holy fuck!” Morgan’s hand appeared, jabbing in the air.

Stunned, Kim glanced in the direction Morgan violently pointed as Alex sighed and rose from his seat.

Well, damn. Kim blinked. Okay, so she wasn’t afraid of spiders, but hell, that thing crouched on the wall, just under the ceiling, should be paying rent. It was huge.

“Where’s your broom?” Alex asked her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He kept his back turned toward his wife. Good move. Kim could just imagine Morgan’s reaction if she saw that smile. Well, if she weren’t cowering behind the chair, that was.

“Beside the refrigerator.” Kim waved toward the kitchen but shifted her attention back to the spider hanging out on her wall. Probably planning how best to attack them for dinner. She shuddered.

Within seconds, Alex retrieved the broom and dustpan, whacked the hell out of the thing, and headed down the hall to flush it. When he reappeared in the living room, Morgan emerged from her hiding spot, ran across the room, and leaped on him, her arms and legs locking around him.

“My hero,” she crooned, scattering kisses over his face. “And this is why I adore you, pumpkin. It’s the little things like smashing a spider to hell and back that shows me how much you really love me.”

Alex whispered something in his wife’s ear that set her off in giggles. No. God no, Kim didn’t want to know what he’d said.

But Kim’s mind started whirling.

The little things.

Images flashed in front of her as if a wide screen had been set up on the far wall. Ronin at the Seattle Wedding Expo with his sister, laughing and teasing her. Ronin, his beautiful, dark eyes wide at the sound of their baby’s heartbeat. Ronin, bursting through the cubicle at the hospital. Ronin, sitting next to her on the bed, taking care of her while she’d been on bedrest.

Ronin, admitting his fear of heights to her in the doctor’s exam room, yet braving her office building with the glass elevator just to bring her food that would soothe her morning sickness.

That was Ronin.

Wild, raw, protective, funny, smart…loving.

He’d showed her his love time and again with those tiny gestures and had never asked her for anything in return. Except for her love. And she’d run away from him. Selfishly, cowardly, she’d withheld it from him.

But now she could repay those small things with a big one. By letting go of all her fears for him.

Yes. God, yes, she loved him.

He’d been right about her shutting people out. If she did, then her heart couldn’t get broken. The inevitable rejection wouldn’t hurt.

But Ronin would never reject her; in his eyes, she’d always been worthy. Always been enough.

She just had to believe it.

She just had to open that door.

“I think that lightbulb thingy just went off over head,” Morgan stage-whispered.

Oh, it had.

She couldn’t have prayed for a more perfect father for their child than Ronin.

But would he still want her in the package deal?