She’s unique and makes me want to be with her forever. Her head rests on my bicep, her lengthy hair tied into a messy bun. I enjoy the sight because tomorrow morning she’ll go on with her life and so will I.
My favorite night might become the best memory of my life.
Chapter Eight
Rys
It was sex.
Just sex.
Nothing but a fun, perfect night with a hot, so-out-of-my-league stranger.
He might say he’s a boring actuary—nothing was boring about him.
He’s hiding something.
Is he emotionally unavailable?
All I know is Caspian is a man who loves his family. He’s probably a hot-as-hell, womanizing playboy.
I won’t deny that I liked him.
Talking to Caspian was…different. I can’t exactly define what happened between us. Chemistry, lust, loneliness. It was the perfect storm. The stars aligned, and the world stopped so we could have just…well, a weekend.
Staying overnight and spending part of Sunday with him doesn’t say one-night stand, does it?
This thing between us was strange, explosive, and maybe unforgettable.
My stomach knots as I imagine what’ll happen if I become addicted to his kisses after today.
It won’t happen, I assure myself.
I’ll never understand why I made him the exception to the rule. But I know it’s over. By the time I reach the airport, Caspian will be nothing but a memory.
The driver he hired takes me to a small airport in wine country. There’s a jet waiting for me. He asked me to call him when I got home, but I’ve already erased his number. It’s a private flight, he’ll know when I land. That’s enough, isn’t it?
This should end now, which is why I didn’t offer my number. It’s best if we cut all communication between us from the root. I can claim that I switched phones, and he…well, I’m sure he won’t even remember who I was by the time he’s sleeping with the next woman who crosses his path.
But can I do the same, forget all about him? I touch my lips, wondering if the heat will diminish soon.
It will, right?
Chapter Nine
Caspian
Almost three years later
I’m in love.
Those who don’t believe in love at first sight haven’t met the most beautiful girl in the world. Soleil Roux Spearman.
“I’m your favorite uncle in the entire world,” I whisper, cradling the pink bundle close to my chest.
“Get in line,” Gatsby, one of my older brothers and the proud father of my first niece, says.
“Am I the last one meeting her?” I glance at him for a quick second, though it’s hard to stop staring at his beautiful baby. How someone so obnoxious could create a miracle like Soleil is beyond me.
“Lysander called dibs on most favorite. He paid well for it. You might need to bribe us to move the needle in your favor.”
If I wasn’t carrying his daughter, I’d be flipping him the finger. Asshole.
“Stop teasing your brothers,” Maia chides him. “We’ll teach her not to pick favorites. He’s just giving you a hard time, as he did with the rest.”
I focus on my sister-in-law. “How are you feeling, Maia?”
She smiles, staring at the pink bundle in my arms. “Happy, but tired. Pushing her out was…well, not how I expected to start my day. She decided it was okay to arrive two weeks early.”
Though the beautiful girl I hold sleeps soundly, I whisper, “You’re as impatient as your father.”
“Sure, blame me. My adorable wife is ten times more restless than I am. Our Little Sun takes after her.”
I arch an eyebrow. Little Sun? Why? What does that mean?
He calls his wife Little Blue since her middle name is Azul. I need to know why we’re calling this beauty Little Sun. “Explain?”
“Soleil means sun in French,” he answers. “We tried to pick a name close to Maia—she’s a little star too. If it was a boy, we were going to call him Rigel Joel. Maybe the next one?”
I don’t know how to feel about him naming his son Joel. Should I call dibs on Dad’s name? Maybe as a family we should discuss who gets to use it. I want to preserve his name, just as we’ve maintained his legacy. But is it fair to name a child after Joel Spearman?
Those are big shoes to fill, and…well, I stop because there’s no point on thinking about my future children.
Fortunately, Maia interrupts all my thoughts by saying, “There’s not going to be a next one. I’m not pushing another one of those out of my vagina. You’re going to keep your dick away from me.”
Gatz walks to her and kisses her forehead. “Anything for you, babe. I love you.”
She snuggles closer to him. “I love you more.”
My brother glances at me. “Thank you for coming, but this lady needs to sleep.”
“I can’t,” Maia shrieks. “Who’s going to watch her? Look at her, she’s tiny. I need to protect her.”
“Well, since you two are busy making decisions, we’re going to go,” I say, pretending to leave with Soleil.
I take only two steps before Gatz is in front of me. “You can’t take my baby with you.”
“What if I promise to take care of her?”
He snorts. “Uh-huh. The same way you take care of your plants?”
I glare at him. Can he let go of that shit?
A couple of years ago, when I moved from Vancouver to Portland, my sisters bought me a set of decent stemware, silverware, and even a few plants. Needless to say, I only have two out of three housewarming gifts. Not my fault.
Back then, I didn’t know anyone locally. Who am I kidding? I still don’t know many Oregonians. I’m either traveling with my hockey team to the next game, training, or coming home to be with my siblings. I couldn’t tell anyone to water my plants.
“This is uncalled for. Cory and Fern shouldn’t have bought me plants as a housewarming gift. I travel a lot.” Sometimes I think my sisters did that on purpose so everyone could make fun of me.
Cas is so irresponsible. He can’t even keep a plant alive.
Gatsby doesn’t acknowledge me. He carefully takes Soleil out of my arms.
“If I’m in charge, I can take care of this little piece of sun—and keep her alive,” I argue.
“Uh-huh. You’re always traveling, and you don’t live anywhere near San Francisco or Paradise Bay. When the season is over, you can help us take care of her.”
“Really? You’ll let me take care of her? Or is this another way to just give me the runaround?”
He shrugs. “We’ll see.”
“I can take care of her,” I insist.
“Why don’t you start by bringing some fries with melted cheese to her mother?”
I glance at Maia, who’s finally asleep. “She has the weirdest cravings.”
“It’s not a craving. It’s…she just likes to indulge in greasy food, and this is a good moment to pamper her.”
“You want me to bring you something to eat?”
He nods. “Whatever you’re having.” He presses his lips into a thin line and says, “Thank you for coming.”