More Than Need You Page 3

  moment she realizes her safety net is gone.

  She draws in a bracing breath and gestures me toward the gate.

  I turn stubborn and shake my head. “I want to see my son now.”

  “He’s asleep, and I won’t wake him. And you were not invited to my engagement party. Don’t ruin this for me.”

  I glance around. People are staring, and the party is beginning to break up. My first instinct is to press Britta further, but her voice is trembling again. I can tell she wants to nudge me toward the gate but doesn’t dare touch me.

  The me of three years ago would have pounced on her weaknesses and used them to turn her inside out until she gave me what I wanted. My old man taught me to cue into others’ emotions and manipulate them to achieve the ends I sought. The me who’s finally learned some empathy senses that Britta needs me to back down for the night. If I don’t ease up, she’ll only be more resistant in the future. Besides, I have an hour’s drive home and an early meeting tomorrow morning. Tactical retreat is in my best interest.

  I’m in her head. I’ve planted the seed that I’m back and I’m not going away. I’ll let her stew on that knowledge.

  “All right,” I relent. “I’ll go.”

  Britta’s wary expression tells me she’s looking for the catch. “Really?”

  I pluck my keys from my pocket. “Yes.”

  For now.

  Her visible relief makes me feel vaguely guilty. “Thank you.”

  She knows I’m showing her mercy. She should also know that I may not show much more of it until I’m a part of my son’s life.

  I wonder if she has any idea that same concept applies to her? Certainly not yet, but she will.

  “Britta, let’s be clear. I don’t want to take the boy from you. I don’t want to upend his world. I simply want to be a part of it. We’re starting while he’s young. I’ll ease into his life a little at a time, whatever is easiest and best for him. I think you and I should meet tomorrow, maybe for a drink after work to discuss—”

  “No.”

  “You’re not free then?”

  “I won’t be free ever again. I’m engaged.”

  That fact torques my gut. “When did that happen?”

  She looks down, away. “I said yes about four hours ago. Makaio called everyone, and they surprised me with the banner and food and…”

  Fuck.

  “I’m not asking you on a date,” I bite out. “I’m asking you to sit down so we can be adults and discuss our son.”

  “If you really want what’s best for Jamie, you’ll vanish. He’s a little boy and he won’t understand your sudden role in his life. Makaio will be a good father. Go back to your twenty-hour workdays, your meaningless flings”—she marches out the gate and lays eyes on my deeply impractical two-door sports convertible with a scoff—“and your bachelor-pad sports car and disappear again. We’re all better off that way.”

  “You will never convince me that my son is better off without me.”

  The front door creaks open. Makaio and his sister make their way outside. He eyes me the entire time he’s escorting her to a beat-up sedan. Then a few more people pour out the door, clearly the in-laws to be. Neighbors head out next, wandering toward their houses. Everyone is staring. I curse. Everything else I want to say will have to wait. This isn’t the time. With an audience isn’t the place.

  I lean in, close to her ear, trying to ignore the hint of jasmine that always clings to her and drives me mad. “I will not go away because it’s convenient for you. And I won’t leave you alone simply because I hurt you or you don’t like the way I rattle you, Britta. I’m back. And I’m never leaving again.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “How did it go last night?” Maxon asks me early the next morning.

  Funny how natural it feels to resume the habits we shared three years ago, like checking in first thing each day. As I got on the stationary bike for a spin at six thirty, I rang him. He picked up right away, obviously already getting aerobic himself.

  Now I hesitate replying. Once, Maxon was the person I trusted most. Well, as much as I trusted anyone. I know now he didn’t do me wrong and I utterly overreacted. Keeley and I have talked a lot about trying to believe the best in people, rather than assuming the worst. She keeps telling me I have to take a leap of faith if I ever want to be happy.

  Trusting my own brother seems like a good place to start in learning how to jump. Besides, I owe him.

  “Disastrously.” I fill him in on the reunion, including the reason for Britta’s impromptu party.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Is he really asking me this? As if he doesn’t have the same instincts? “What would you do?”

  “Well…” Maxon pauses again. “Keeley is always telling me I should listen and empathize and—”

  “Let’s be real here.”

  Maxon sighs as if he hates to admit the truth. “If I had a son I wanted to know by a woman I was estranged from? I’d figure out how to ingrain myself in every level of her life until I wore her down and she gave me what I wanted.”

  “Bingo.”

  “I’d be calling an attorney to find out what my rights are and how to exercise them fully.”

  “I’ve already left him a voice mail,” I assure my brother.

  “I’d also be learning her schedule.”

  “Yep. I plan to work on that today. In fact, I’ll be quizzing you later.”

  “Every time I saw her, I’d insist that I want to meet my son.”

  I nod. “That goes without saying.”

  “Then, I guess that’s it—if all you want is to have Jamie in your life.” He pauses. “But you want more. You want the woman.”

  “Of course I do. What would you do in that case?”

  When he hesitates, I wince. I probably hit a sore spot. I have no doubt he feels lost without Keeley.

  “In your shoes, I’d do everything humanly possible to separate Britta from Makaio.”

  I grin. “I’m already thinking of a strategy.”

  “But I’m trying to think less like a cutthroat bastard and more like a reasonable human being,” he says as he breathes through his run. “For Keeley.”

  “I get that. I’m just not convinced the Mr.-Nice-Guy thing will work. I’ll try, but I’m prepared to be more…persuasive if she won’t listen.”

  “I think relentless might be a better term.”

  “Probably. I walked out on Britta when she was pregnant. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know. What she remembers is that I left her to give birth alone. Now, I have to convince her how badly I want Jamie. I also have to give her opportunities to see me as something other than the enemy. Once she’s reassured of that, I’ll start working with her on us.”

  I would prefer to claim both of them simultaneously. If she thinks she’s marrying Makaio, I have to change her mind and her heart. On the other hand, I know Britta. If I press her too hard too fast for something more than co-parenting, she’ll shut me down. She doesn’t trust me at all. I have to fix that, and it will take time. But I also can’t let her believe I’m only back in her life for Jamie’s sake. Which leads me to something I’ve been thinking…

  “You know, for the duration of the Stowe contract, I think you and I should work really closely together. In fact, we should work out of the same office.”

  Maxon jumps on my train of thought a split second later and barks out a low laugh. “Oh, Britta will hate my guts for agreeing to this.”

  But my brother does agree. That’s what’s important right now. “I’ll make her very happy in the end.”

  “You can’t walk away from her this time. I’ll kill you myself,” he vows.

  “That’s absolutely the last thing on my mind, I promise you.”

  “So you really still have feelings for her?”

  “Yes.” I don’t have to think about it. I know. In fact, I knew the second our eyes met last night. Whatever she once felt for me may have utterly chang
ed, but despite the years and my parade of faceless flings, I love Britta. I’ve always loved her. I was too stubborn and too stupid to tell her that when we were together. For now, I can only add that to my pile of regret.

  “We converted your former office into a storage and conference room, but we could do without it for a while.”

  I smile. “Excellent. You know, Sheila is having a grandbaby soon,” I say of my assistant. “She’s been eager to visit her son and daughter-in-law in Seattle. I think she’s earned some time off.”

  “A month or two ought to do it.” Maxon laughs.

  Of being in the same office with Britta and of her being my assistant, too? “Agreed.”

  If I have her in my sights all day, I can work on her slowly. Maybe we’ll tackle projects and have lunch together. I’ll look for opportunities to see her after hours. Once I meet Jamie, I will insist we do things as a family…and encourage our natural connection until she no longer has any interest in marrying another man and raising our son with him.

  “We just have to secure the listing first,” Maxon points out. “Can you show up about eight thirty? I’ll go over the preso with you. We’ll figure out how to split it up, then make our pitch at ten. I think George and Vivienne Stowe will be pleasantly surprised.”

  I hope. Since I fucked it up yesterday, I’d definitely like to make them happy clients now. “Perfect. Maybe you can ask Britta to help me clear out my former office afterward so I can move in again?”

  “I could do that. I really hope it works out for you two.”

  “Thanks. Once you’ve spoken to her, I’ll take it from there.”

  “Cool. Now that we’ve got business behind us, um…have you talked to Keeley lately?”

  “Last night. Nothing has changed since you and I met over dessert.”

  “I wish I could talk to her.” My brother sounds glum that he can’t.

  “Don’t rush her, man. That’s not how she works.”

  “I know.”

  And he clearly doesn’t like it.

  “There’s every chance she’ll come around. Don’t worry. I’m supposed to talk to her later, so I’ll keep you posted. If nothing else, I have to pay her back for the CD of music she left in my car.”

  At that, Maxon laughs. “That woman and her songs… Do I dare ask?”

  I fill him in on the first few tunes she laid on the disc. “Then it got worse. You’re better with music than me. She passed on this damn tearjerker, ‘Pictures of You?’”

  “The Cure?”

  I’m vaguely familiar with that band. When we were kids, we had a Goth babysitter who was obsessed. “Yeah. But this version was stripped down. All acoustic.”

  And poignant as hell. Stab me now with the lyrics. Something about remembering her standing in the rain and running to her to be near. Yeah. I close my eyes, imagining that. Fuck. The next verse I see all too clearly, too. Her falling into my arms, crying for the death of her heart. I remember that awful morning we split up so sharply it eviscerates me even now. My anger, my righteous sense of betrayal, my need to lash out.

  I wish I could take every bit of it back and that Britta and I could go on as if it never happened.

  But it’s way too late for that.

  “Huh, you’ll have to share that version,” Maxon suggests. “I’d like to give that a listen. What other songs? Because I know she left you more than a handful. That’s how Keeley rolls.”

  “I had to turn it off after that wrist-slashing emo ballad. I’ll try the CD again later.”

  I couldn’t handle more after seeing Britta and leaving her house feeling infuriated, slightly defeated, and worried like hell I’d never have the chance to tell her I’m sorry, that I still love her, or that I want to make her happy. She’s not ready to hear any of that now.

  Did she give Makaio a celebratory fuck last night? Or fuck him as a fuck you to me? If I let myself believe that, I’ll only add to my growing fear that I’m going to be miserable for the rest of my life. I blame myself mostly…but I kind of blame Keeley, too. Before her, I was an emotionless bastard and I weathered any twinges of sadness with booze and pussy. It’s hardly an original tactic, but it was effective enough. Now? That shit won’t fly anymore.

  “When you listen to the rest, brace yourself,” Maxon recommends.

  “Yeah.” Even now, I’m working like hell to tamp my shit down. But I feel it simmering just under the surface. “See you in a couple hours.”

  I’ll see Britta then, too. I hope she doesn’t rip my balls off before I can make her understand.

  I arrive at Maxon’s office—in the building we used to share—at ten minutes before eight. It’s like déjà vu parking in the lot I shared with my brother for over six years. I see he’s already here. He’s doesn’t lease the same car he did when we were partners, and I will totally have to rib him about driving his SUV day to day. I own one, too. I can’t show property in a two-seater. Admittedly, his Range Rover convertible number is pretty sweet. But…

  As I climb out of the car with my coffee and briefcase, I shove my phone in my pocket and lock up, then stride for the front door. I see the tall wooden sign in the grass out front. It used to have a white background where we had REED BROTHERS PROPERTY ASSOCIATES carved out and painted a really flashy, masculine blue. Maxon didn’t replace the sign, just covered it with a canvas he’s tied to the legs, so it reads MAXON MAUI REALTY. I snort. I thought it was a stupid name when I first heard it. I think it’s a stupid name now.

  I’ll be sure to rib him about that, too.

  Most of all, I don’t see anyone else in the lot. We’ll have a few minutes before Britta arrives.

  I push the door open, and Maxon looks up from his desk. It’s still the same furniture in the same location. I’ve seen this sight a hundred times, but seeing it again now is like a revelation. A homecoming. I smile.

  Damn, it feels good to be back. In fact, I feel more like me than I have in years.

  “Morning,” I call out.

  “Bro…” He goes back to tapping on his keyboard as furiously as he’s able.

  I take a sip of my brew as I approach and drop into the chair opposite his desk. “I see you’re still a lousy typist.”

  He lifts one hand from the computer long enough to flip me off. “I see you’re still an insufferable asshole.”

  I grin. “Oh, I haven’t even started yet. Let’s talk about that mom-mobile you’re driving.”

  “That’s a nice fucking vehicle,” he argues.

  I scoff at him in mocking tones. “Sure, if I was taking a passel of kids to school on my way to join the ladies’ coffee klatch before my run to the grocery store…”

  “Bite my ass. At least I’m not driving an overpriced phallic symbol that looks like compensation for what I don’t have behind my fly.”

  I bark out a laugh. “What’s behind my fly has never been the problem. You’re a Reed. You should know that.”

  “Okay, true enough. Besides, I think your ‘personal number’ is even scarier than mine.”

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I have no doubt he’s right. “So, what do you want to tackle first?”

  Maxon sips his coffee and puts on his older-brother