Page 69 of Heart Breaker

Silence settles for a moment. When I finally look up, James’s eyes are shiny. “Sounds like my girl.”

I take another sip of my beer. Across the room, Lottie walks out of the kitchen with her sister. Her cheeks are flushed, and I notice the faint dimple in her cheek that appears when she’s really laughing. She really is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I turn my head to look at her dad, and the look on his face is so full of love it almost hurts to see it.

“She was always my easy kid,” he says. “Harper needed rules. Lottie needed supervision.”

I smile. “That tracks.”

“When she was nine, she convinced half the neighborhood kids they could start a circus in our backyard.” His eyes crinkle at the memory.

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“She came to me asking where she could find an elephant.” James laughs. “Lottie was always like that. She doesn’t shy away from people. She’s always trying to make others happy.”

The words settle deep in my chest because he’s right, she does. I haven’t known Lottie for long, but from what I’ve seen, she’s always thinking about others.

James looks at me then and something in his expression shifts. It becomes more serious. “You take good care of her for me.”

The noise of the room fades into the background, and I can feel the weight of what he’s handing me—unspoken but unmistakable.

“I will.”

“Good.” Relief flickers across his face so briefly I almost miss it.

I take a long pull from my beer. The truth is, I wish that was a promise I could guarantee I’d keep. I hate that he’s sitting here trusting me with his daughter not knowing the truth about us. Every time he looks at me like I’m already part of this family, the lie sits heavier in my chest. He deserves better than half-truths and a son-in-law who has an expiration date.

I look around the room. There’s something about sitting in this house, listening to the sounds of people bickering and laughing and telling the same stories they’ve probably been telling for decades. Nobody seems in a hurry to be anywhere else.

I’m not in a hurry either.

I like it here.

I want to sit around this dining room table and get to know these people. To watch Claire and Harper laugh over something only they think is funny. To hear them reminisce about family vacations and Christmas mornings. To share meals and memories and stories.

I want more of this.

“I hope you come over again soon,” James says, nodding at me. “I enjoy talking to you.”

I smile. “You might get sick of me. But, yeah, I’d like that.”

TWENTY-SIX

Lottie

“I think Mom likes Wes more than she likes us,” Harper says, nudging me with her shoulder from where we stand together in the kitchen scraping leftovers into a container. She isn’t wrong.

Through the doorway, I have a clear view of Wes and Mom on the couch, my dad settled back in the same leather chair that’s occupied that corner of the room for as long as I can remember.

“See?” Harper says. “They both can’t get enough of him.”

Dad laughs at something Wes says. Mom immediately smiles. They’ve only known Wes for a few hours, but there’s no doubt they’re already halfway in love with him. Mom has spent most of the evening making sure his drink is full and his plate is loaded while Dad’s worked his way through baseball, airplanes, Cove’s waterproof jackets, and a handful of stories from when Harper and I were kids. Wes listened intently to every single one. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my dad laugh this much or smile this often.

Beside me, Harper laughs. “You know they’re keeping him, right?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind her that eventually Wes is going to walk away, but I decide tonight isn’t the time to dwell on the expiration date looming over my marriage. Not when we’re standing in my parents’ house celebrating it.

Wes’s gaze finds mine and holds it, making my chest do this weird, jittery thing. The weight of it settles low in my stomach, but instead of looking away, I keep my eyes glued to my husband’s.

My mom notices and gestures for me to come join them, scooting over to make room for me next to Wes. The second I lower myself onto the couch, my Aunt Karen drags a dining room chair across the hardwood floor and sits down next to us.