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Somehow, when I wasn’t looking, it switched from natural to necessary. She claimed me, not the other way around. She brought out emotions I’d never felt before, hopes and ambitions I never expected.
After Mischa burned down my property—the future Raegan and I were building together—I vowed I wouldn’t let him get away with it. But the farther away I put that in my rearview mirror, the harder it is to remember why I left the woman I love.
I was the one who ended our relationship.
I knew I’d miss her. I didn’t expect to lie awake until morning, wishing I knew what ceiling she was staring at.
If she was alone like I was.
If she was lonely like I was.
But there’s no place for Raegan in my mission.
In the last eight months, I’ve doubled down on growing my own business, plus invested in having Mischa and his operations surveilled. There’s been some sabotage back and forth, me trying to provoke him, but I want it to be done.
What I never told her was that I hoped it would be over soon. That I could find my way back to her when it was done, that I could force my way back into her heart.
It was harsh of me to leave her.
It would have been cruel to promise to return with no guarantee I could.
I force my attention back to the man sitting opposite me. “I‘ll take three of the bartender robots.”
“They’re fucking expensive, Harry.”
“And I’m fucking rich, Sawyer.”
He grins. “Fine. But technology’s not your real problem.” He shoves his hair back.
Sawyer has a way of seeing straight to the heart of a situation. It comes from his brutal upbringing—while mine was charmed, at least until I was a teenager, his was the opposite. He scraped by.
He’d say he’s thriving, and few would argue with his track record and accomplishments. But every victory has a cost—a personal one, if not a public one.
I shake my head. “The prick who was responsible for my parents’ deaths.”
They might’ve been ruled overdoses, but it wasn’t their doing. No matter what other ills they were responsible for, they never touched drugs themselves and raised us the same way.
“The police want to nail him for drug trafficking and a raft of other evils, but their timeline feels… infinite,” I go on.
Sawyer’s eyes darken. “You trust a bunch of paper pushers, you’ll be the one bleeding out.”
He’s speaking from experience. But before I can respond, Tyler and Annie and the stroller approach.
“Congratulations,” I say, fixing on a smile.
“Thanks, Harrison.” Annie’s tight-lipped. “You didn’t need to send the stroller, but it’s great. It does everything except handle my calendar.”
My smirk fades when Tyler says, “Would you like to hold Rose?”
“I don’t think—“
Before I can protest, he presses the sleeping bundle into my arms.
Christ. She’s all pink and soft, and as her weight settles in my arms, she’s not heavy, but precious. She twitches as she wakes, and eyes, dark brown, with little flecks of gold, blink trustingly up at me. Her tiny nose wrinkles, her mouth working. She has a full head of Annie’s red hair, and if she has an ounce of her father’s talent and her mother’s fearlessness, she’ll be a force.
She’s innocent and loved. I hope it’s a long time before she sees the darker sides of the world.
I clear my throat, glancing back up at my friends. “I can see you in her,” I tell Tyler.
