The question isn’t how much I can handle, it’s how much will I handle.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “How are you, Sky? I miss you,” Max says, putting on a sad voice.

  “I miss you too,” I say into the speakerphone, rolling over onto my stomach on my bed and resting my face on my palm, legs in the air. “There’s been so much going on here, I really wish you were here right now.”

  “Is everything okay?” he asks, sounding concerned. “Your room is still empty here if you decide you want to come home.”

  “Saint has a kid. Or, well, he maybe has a kid,” I blurt out, rolling over onto my back and staring up at the ceiling.

  Max is silent for a few seconds. “And how do you feel about it?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Always.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. “Disappointed. He never even told me about her. I had to find out for myself.”

  “Okay, how would you feel if he just told you straight up about his kid?” he asks.

  I think about it. “I guess I’d still feel a little...surprised and kind of let down, but I wouldn’t question our relationship over it. Him hiding it just makes me wonder what else he is hiding or chooses not to tell me.”

  “Yeah, the lying thing is pretty sketchy. I think you have every right to be upset over that aspect.”

  “Good, I needed to hear that,” I admit, taking a deep breath. “Things just weren’t meant to be this way.”

  “So what are you going to do? You do love kids, though. You’re great with them. You know every time there was a crying baby or toddler having a tantrum in the café, you were always the one we sent in to help,” he says, chuckling softly. “I know that it’s not ideal, but you’d be great around any kid, never mind the child of someone you love. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” He pauses, then asks, “Or is it the fact that you aren’t the one he waited to have kids with that’s the real issue here?”

  “It’s not that he didn’t wait for me,” I explain. “I didn’t expect him to wait; that’s unrealistic. We didn’t even know if we’d see each other again, and we weren’t even dating or anything romantic before. I guess it’s just not how I thought we’d ever be. Saint thinks I’ve made up unrealistic expectations and put him on a pedestal, and now he feels like he has to live up to my idea of him.”

  “Maybe you have? You just said you didn’t expect him to wait for you, and I’m sorry, but in case you didn’t know, having sex can sometimes equal babies,” he says, whispering down the line like it’s some big secret. “It happens to the best of us.”

  “Hasn’t happened to either of us,” I point out.

  “You’re a virgin and I’m not stupid,” he says, chuckling to himself again.

  “See! You just called Saint stupid.”

  “I did not,” he says, laughing harder now. “Look, sometimes shit happens. You can think you are being a hundred percent safe, and a baby still happens. The only way to guarantee not getting someone pregnant is to not have sex. And we all know your man—and I, for that matter—are not going to not have sex.”

  Now I’m laughing. “You’re right. I know you’re right. And yes, when you put it that way it seems ridiculous to be upset over something like that.”

  I know I can’t hold on to this. I need to forgive and move forward, or if I can’t accept things, I need to walk away. It’s not fair for me to pretend to forgive him but then bring it up at any opportunity. At the end of the day I need to think rationally, and although it hurts—and boy does it—he didn’t betray me. It has nothing to do with me, really, and maybe that is what hurts the most. I wasn’t here, and what he did or got up to, and the decisions he made, had nothing to do with me.

  But keeping the truth from me, though—that part hurts and I can’t pretend it doesn’t.

  “Like you said, you love him. So don’t be petty and hold grudges, Sky. I know you. For someone so sweet, you can hold a grudge worse than anyone I know. No one is perfect,” he says.

  “You’re right,” I say, still not ready to let this go.

  Max sighs heavily. “Let’s do a little role reversal here. Let’s say you got pregnant out here in the country. But then you reconnected with Saint years later. How would you feel if he was upset and mad at you for getting pregnant with someone else’s kid when he was never in your life during that time?”

  Shit. When he puts it that way, I feel like a complete idiot. If roles were reversed, I’d feel horrified if he were mad at me for something I couldn’t control or change. Leave it to Max to put things in perspective.

  “You shit. Okay, okay. You’re right. I’ll let it go,” and when I say it, I mean it. I need to move on and not throw this in his face again. I am not my mother; I refuse to be manipulative and petty.

  “Good. Can we talk about me now?”

  I laugh hard. “Okay, tell me about you. When is your next gig? Who are you dating? And most importantly, when are you coming to see me?”

  Talking to Max makes me realize how much I miss him. We speak for another hour and when we hang up, I feel lighter, and see things much clearer.

  That’s the power of a best friend.

  * * *

  Saint picks me up from Logan’s in his car the next afternoon, and tells me he has a surprise for me. I know with all the tension between us recently, we do need some alone time together to figure it all out. Now that I’ve calmed down and thought about everything, I want to try to see where his head is.

  “So where are we going?” I ask as we pass the street that leads to the clubhouse.

  “Surprise, Sky,” he replies, flashing me a cheeky grin. “But you’re going to find out in about thirty minutes.”

  “I’m intrigued,” I murmur, glancing out the window. We haven’t really spoken properly since he got out of my car the day before, just because I wanted a little time to reflect on everything. It’s nice that he’s putting in effort; he obviously wants to sort everything out just as much as I do. It’s not a nice feeling when things are all up in the air and you don’t know where you both stand. “We’re heading half an hour out of town?”

  “You’re asking too many questions,” he teases, nodding to the glove box. “I put some snacks in there for you for the ride.”

  “Are they to keep me quiet?” I tease, opening the compartment and pulling out a few of my favorites: chocolate, pretzels and marshmallows. “Because it’s probably going to work. Man, I’m going to get so big the longer I hang around you.”

  “You’d be beautiful no matter what size you are,” he replies as I rip open the wrapper on a chocolate bar.

  “Do you want a bite? It’s the least I can do after that little comment,” I say, grinning and offering him the first one. He takes a chunk out of it, almost half the bar, leaving me staring down at it. “You have a big mouth.”

  “The better to eat you with, my dear,” he mutters, making me laugh out loud. I remember the shower and how he made me orgasm, and other thoughts enter my mind. I can’t wait until I get to be with him like that again.

  “Yes, you are pretty good at that,” I say, chewing and swallowing. “I guess you being experienced comes with its perks.”

  “I’m glad you see it that way,” he replies, trying to keep a straight face. “You always could see the silver lining in everything, glad to know that hasn’t changed.”

  “Well, there’s no point being bitter about everything. That’s hardly a way to live your life,” I say with a shrug.

  I’m on to the marshmallows when we pull up to a place in the middle of nowhere. “What are we doing here, Saint? Because this looks like a place someone would stop at to dispose of a body. I’m ride or die and all, but I don’t know if our relationship is ready for burying a body together.”

  He laughs and gets out of the car, so I do the same, following him to the trunk. He takes out a tent first.

  “We’re going camping?” I ask, glancing around the deserted grounds. It looks like it could be a camping site, but there’s nobody here except us. “Are we allowed to camp here?”

  “Better keep our clothes on so if we aren’t we can run back to the car,” he jokes, pulling everything we could possibly need from the back of his car—blankets, pillows, food, the whole nine yards—then starts to set up while I watch. He leaves the car lights on so he can see.

  “Do you want any help?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t take me up on the offer, because I’ve never put up a tent in my life and have no idea how to do so.

  “I’m good,” he calls out, chuckling under his breath.

  I pop another pink marshmallow into my mouth, then realize I should save them for s’mores tonight. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  He doesn’t take long, and soon we have our own little glamping setup, with a blowup mattress and warm, thick blankets inside the tent. He even put a little welcome mat at the front. When he pulls out a portable gas stove, my jaw drops open.

  “Done this before, have you?” I ask, impressed by his preparation and the effort that goes into sleeping in the wild.

  “I love camping. I asked you about it once, and you said you’ve never been but wanted to go one day,” he tells me, and I smile because he did remember. “Did you end up going?”

  “I did actually, once,” I admit, lying down on the mattress and watching as he does the same. “Max wanted to go for his birthday one year, but we stayed on a camping grounds so they had showers and toilets. Speaking of, where are we going to shower and go to the bathroom?”

  “There’s a lake down that way,” he says, pointing to the right. “But we will head back tomorrow, so I’m sure you’ll survive if you skip a shower for one night.”

  Luckily I had one this morning, but I usually have one every night as well. “And the toilet?”

  “In the woods,” he says casually, grinning at my reaction. “If you need to poop, I will dig you a hole.”

  I blink slowly a few times. “There’s no way in hell I’m pooping in the bush, in the middle of nowhere, with you nearby.”

  “You’ll change your mind if you really need to go,” he says with confidence. “This is going to be a bonding moment for us.”

  I roll closer to him, so our noses are almost touching. “No amount of bonding will let you see me poop.”

  He laughs at me and pulls me closer. “I love you,” he says, kissing my lips. “I felt so shitty after you drove off, and I know a lot of what you said is true. I can be closed off, and from now on, for you, I’m going to be an open book. Nothing is off limits, and everything you ask will be answered, brutal fucking honesty and all. And I’m going to assume that anything I tell you won’t make you run away.”

  “Good,” I say, reaching out to touch the stubble on his cheek. “And I thought about a lot too, and I want you to know that whatever happens with Tory, I’m going to be here for you and support you.”

  “Thank you,” he says, the relief in his voice evident.

  “Why don’t you get a DNA test done once and for all so you can find out for your peace of mind?”

  “You’d really be okay with that?” he asks, studying me, as if making sure I’m being honest. “I haven’t requested the DNA test because if she’s not mine I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. But you’re right, something has to give and I can’t just live in limbo like this forever.”

  I nod. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know the situation with her mother, but whatever you choose I’m going to be right here next to you. I agree, I think you should find out the truth.”

  “Carol is...difficult to deal with. She does love Tory, and I mean, she’s not the worst mother, but she won’t hesitate to use her as a weapon to get what she wants either. I don’t mean to be a walking fucking stereotype right now, and I know that most men say this about their exes, but she is crazy.”

  “How so?” I ask, brow furrowing. “Like ‘wants money, gold digger’ crazy, tries to fight any woman she sees you with, or stalker type?”

  “All of the above,” he admits, cringing and rolling onto his back, staring up at the roof of the tent. “Well, maybe not the stalker part, but everything else. We were never actually together, we were just casually fucking, and...” He trails off, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I want to say yeah, I fucked up, but then Tory wouldn’t be here. So it’s a hard situation. Basically Carol said she was protected, and we were using condoms anyway, but then one time...” He glances over at me. “Do you know how fucking hard it is to speak about this to you? You, of all people.”

  “It’s hard to hear too,” I admit, taking a deep breath. “But it’s our reality, so keep going.”

  “She told me she was pregnant and it was mine. We didn’t get together after that, but I made sure she was looked after, gave her money and went to all the appointments and everything with her. I might not have loved her, but that was my child inside her and that meant something to me.”

  “As it should,” I whisper.

  “Tory was born and she was just a bright light, you know? I loved her the moment I saw her, and I told myself I’d do whatever I could to be a good father. Then a few months ago Carol told me I’m not even the father, said it was the man she’s with now.” He sits up with his knees to his chest. “And then I went out and got drunk, and lo and behold, the fucker was also there. He’s the one I hit and got arrested for. He pressed assault and battery charges. I was facing at least three to five years minimum.”

  “Then how’d you get out in less than six months?”

  “My plea deal was for a year. But, I don’t know, overcrowding or some shit,” he explains, shrugging. “My lawyer is one of the best, and he knows his shit. Carol hasn’t been in contact, and I haven’t seen Tory in months. I know you’re right, I need to figure out what I’m going to do, because I just can’t pretend this whole thing doesn’t exist anymore. I miss her. And it breaks my heart that she’s probably thinking this other douche is her dad, because he’s living with them now and taking on that role.”

  “She has your eyes, Saint,” I tell him quietly. “When I saw her, I knew she was yours straight away, and if she is, you need to fight for her.”

  He turns to me, and lies back down, facing me again. “Fuck, I love you so much, Skylar. I know this isn’t what you would have wanted—”

  I cut him off, shaking my head. “It doesn’t matter. I was being selfish. This is a little human we’re talking about, and it was wrong of me to think of her as ruining some epic love story between us that I’ve created in my head these last few years. But you not telling me about her, on the other hand...”

  “We can still have the epic love story,” he says, rolling me onto my back with him on top of me. “We just might have a little princess with us now and again. And it will only be honesty from here on out.”

  “I’m okay with that,” I say, looking into his eyes. “Like you said, she’s a part of you, and I love all of you.”

  He slams his lips down on mine, kissing me deeply, but slowly. Hungry kisses that let me know I’ve made the right choice and that things are going to be okay.

  We are going to be okay.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Glancing up at the clear night sky and the stars, which are so visible tonight, with a warm campfire in front of us, I whisper, “Now that is a view.” I love being here, and can’t wait to spend the entire night with him like this. We’re all alone, with not a soul in sight, and with the fire going it’s a beautiful atmosphere. “Thank you for bringing me here tonight, Saint. I’m really enjoying myself.”

  And I’ve decided that tonight is the night.

  I want Saint to make me his. I want him to be my first.

  “Me too,” he says, eating his marshmallow off a stick. “I think I really needed to get away, and even more than that I needed some alone time with you. You know I’m never going to give up on you. No matter what, I’m going to be here, fighting for you, fighting for us. So in the moments you don’t believe in us, I’m going to believe in us for the both of us.”

  My eyes widen at the stark sincerity in his tone.

  “Thank you, Saint,” I say, moving closer. “I adore you, you know that, right?”

  “And I fucking adore you,” he replies, lifting his blanket up and pulling me under it. We cuddle up together, just lying there for a little while, enjoying each other’s company before Saint cooks dinner on the portable stove, frying sausages and onions to eat in a bun.

  “Hot dogs under moonlight, who knew this could be romantic?” I tease after we finish eating and pack up everything. Except now I need to pee, which I’ve been holding in for a little too long. “Can I have the flashlight?”

  He hands it to me. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No,” I say, staring out into the darkness. “I won’t go too far.”

  “Call me if you need me,” he murmurs, amused, while I traipse into the woods armed with nothing but a flashlight and some toilet paper. I go behind a tree and pull my pants down, do my business and stand back up.

  I’m about to pull up my pants when I feel something the size of my palm crawling on my leg, so I start to scream, “Oh my God!” picturing some huge ass spider on me and shaking my legs, before running toward the camp.

  Pants falling back down to my ankles, I end up tripping over and land on my face.

  “Ouch.”

  Just great.

  Lifting my head, I dust my face off with my hands, grimacing at the sand.

  Of course Saint finds me lying there, and helps me up. “What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “Something crawled up my leg,” I admit, as he pulls my pants up for me and fastens them. “It was probably a killer spider. This is how it ends for me, Saint.”

  “Did you actually get bitten? I told you I’d come with you,” he sighs, dusting some more sand off my face. Lifting me up in his arms, he carries me back to the camp where I wash my face and hands. He checks me for bites, but there’s nothing there. “Do you want to go for a swim in the lake?”