Page 118 of The Logic of Loyalty

TREVOR

I’m staring at the ceiling when my alarm finally rings. Only, I’ve been up, been on my run, and taken my shower. The choices I’ve made for years are all coming to a head today. “It’s finally here.”

I’ve woken up each morning, happier than the last to be here, present with my family in my home. The last time I was this happy was the morning of the fourth, but even then, I was weighed down with all of the secrets and knowledge I had to go to work.

Now, everything is out in the open. I did something terrible. I made terrible choices and hurt the people I love the most. I’ve faced those choices, those consequences, and those people. I’ve placed this experience—no, life-altering event—in my heart, and it has shaped me into a newer, better version of myself. One who doesn’t squander the opportunities given. I won’t sit back and quietly tolerate what I know is wrong. I won’t cut my wife off from any of the choices that affect our lives. I won’t let my responsibilities to anyone or anything else get in the way of my responsibilities to my wife and my family.

My priorities are clear, and the weight is lifted.

The rising sun rays spill through the window just as my second alarm rings. Damn, already? I have to finish getting ready, get breakfast made, and get Jacob to school. Then, it’s another day back at the office. It’s been nearly two weeks since I last put on a suit. The pile of nursery items I amassed at the apartment has taken up the majority of the space in the guest room, including the closet, so I’ve been living primarily from my bag. My suit is hanging from the door, wrinkle-free and ready as I am for my final day at the bank. Other than my semesters at school, I’ve been an employee there for well over a decade. I can’t say any of it will be bittersweet. Maybe I’ll burn the suit in a celebratory bonfire and roast some damn marshmallows.

I pull on my socks and a fresh pair of boxer briefs, then go across the hall to the bathroom where my shaving kit sits. I run my hand over the longer scruff around my jaw. I haven’t shaved in a while. Unbidden, a flash of the marks I left on my woman pops into my brain. The results of this scruff were printed all over Paige’s inner thighs. The visible proof of my presence, combined with the swell of my babies growing in her belly, made a primal part of my soul roar with satisfaction. I carefully place the razor back into its container and pull out my trimmer instead.

Once I’m done in the bathroom, I finish putting on my armor. I’ve never felt great in my suits, but I felt protected. It was one way my father wouldn’t berate me—my appearance was always impeccable. I also look like the spitting image of him, only with my mother’s eyes.

I’m on my final button when the door swings open without a knock. I smirk when Paige’s face falls at the sight of me already dressed. She pauses and looks past me into the room, and I allow my eyes to take in the wonder that is my wife. She’s in her sleeping shorts, or no shorts, underneath one of my shirts she’s cut up. She leans forward, and the wide neck slides, baring one of her delectable shoulders. She must be doing this on purpose. My fingers itch to grab her and toss her onto the bed.

“I hate how right you were. Sage Wisdom is loads better in the morning light and afternoon light. They look identical.” I blink out of my daydream of ravaging my wife and look to where she’s pointing. The morning lights are shining on the swatches I have lining the wall. She tilts her head, then repositions her finger to point to the soft green. “It looks so soothing. It would be easy to keep things neutral where we need to.”

I grin. “Of course I was right. I’ve already swatched them.” I went through over twenty colors while I was still in Billy’s apartment. I narrowed it down to three when I came in here.

Paige laughs, soothing my lingering stress, and crosses in front of me, brushing past when there’s plenty of room surrounding me. She’s being playful and a tease. My heart inflates three times its normal size. “Let’s get this one.” She lifts the label from the swatch, folding it once before pocketing it.

“Yeah.” I croak out the word, then clear my throat to try it again. “Yep. Let’s do it.” She nods and sits on the edge of the bed next to me. Her hand is close enough to mine to touch, so I do. I grab it and hold it between my own.

A door shutting down the hall makes us jump apart like two guilty teenagers. We laugh awkwardly, and to my extreme disappointment, she stands and steps away from me to the dresser. I watch her beautiful face as it’s reflected in the dresser’s mirror as she picks up the cufflinks I have set out for work today. They’re new this year—an anniversary gift from her. She turns back to me, holding them with a raised brow.

“Yes, please.” Her smile is mesmerizing when she sits beside me. Her touch on my arm makes my body feel like it’s on fire.

“Dad?” Jacob’s voice cools the flames that were licking up my skin. He pushes open the door and can’t hide his smile when he spots his mother putting the cufflinks into place. “Hey, Mom. Fancy seeing you in here.”

“Go get dressed, scoundrel. I’ll be right there.” I reach to tousle his hair, but Paige swats my hand.

“Don’t move. I’m not done.” Jacob laughs, but follows my instructions. Paige sighs. “He’s happier with you here.”

“Yeah?” I like to think I make him happy, but hate that my absence impacted him negatively.

Paige finishes with the second link and stands, straightening her shirt. “Yeah. Much happier. So am I.” She looks away from me. “I’m going to change and meet you two in the kitchen for breakfast.” Then she’s out the door.

I catch my wide as fuck grin in the mirror. “My family is happy I’m home.” I straighten my jacket and check my cufflinks—the world and stars. One on each link. “Time to cut the last ties to my toxic-as-fuck family.”

“Dad, why are you in a suit again?” Jacob asks on our drive to school.

“I have one last day at the bank, then I’m done, kiddo.”

He wrinkles his nose. “But you’re not leaving us again, right? I was okay, but it made Mom really sad.” Don’t ask.

“Why would you say that?” Bad, Dad.

“She cried a lot at night. She would check to make sure I was asleep, but I would wait for her to sleep to get some of the brownies she made from the kitchen, but her crying was loud enough to hear.” He barely breathes during his rambling confession.

“I’m sorry you and your mom had to deal with that, bud.”

“Was it you?”

“What?” I break eye contact and pull forward in the drop-off line.

“Was it you who made her cry? Or was it Grandma and Grandpa, like with me?”