On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [122]
“Nonsense,” she said briskly. “You didn’t need me any more than you ever have.”
Devon’s stomach plummeted. He knew what that meant. She wasn’t sticking around.
“Come on,” he said, trying for a charming smile. “I need you. I always needed you, Lilah Jane. Even when I didn’t know it.”
“I thought so when I first met you,” she said, her eyes soft and thoughtful. “I thought you needed shaking up, needed to be taught a lesson about how to treat people, needed to learn what it was like to love and be loved.” She paused, his pretty Lilah Jane, and Devon felt his breathing speed up like he was running a marathon. “But now I think you didn’t need me at all. You’re a natural at it, Devon.”
Well, that was unexpected.
He blinked. “Lilah—”
She held up a hand, and Devon stopped talking gladly; his voice was on the verge of breaking like a spotty teenager’s.
“I should never have implied that you were incapable of loving your son,” Lilah said, standing. “Anyone seeing you today, while Tucker was missing, would know just how much you care about that boy.”
Was she leaving? Devon managed a shrug, his eyes riveted to her nervous, stiff form. “Tucker makes it easy. And I appreciate all your help with him, I truly do. But if you think he’s the only reason I need you, you’re nuts.”
She had a look on her face, like she was afraid to ask what he meant, and it was so similar to the sensation pushing at Devon’s chest that he started to feel a whole lot more hopeful about the outcome of this conversation.
“You see,” he said, feigning casual confidence by lacing his fingers together behind his head, “and you should write this down, because you’re one of very few people in the world who’ve ever heard this from me: You were right. About the dream castles, about the happy family. About everything.”
Lilah sat back down again, hard enough to bounce on the firm leather seat. “What?”
“Think I’m going to say it twice?” he scoffed, heart beating hard. “I may be head over heels for you, but I’m not an idiot.”
“You’re . . . oh, my stars and stripes, what did you just say?”
“Come on, Lilah Jane, I’ve never known you to be at a loss for words before. Or . . .” he stopped, forced himself to keep his eyes level on hers. “Maybe Tucker is the whole reason you’re here. I wouldn’t blame you, you know. If you loved him, but not me.”
Christ, this hurts. No wonder I never wanted to do it before.
She stared at him, her eyes huge and filled with some indefinable emotion. Until suddenly, they lit up like emeralds in a jewelry case at Cartier, and she launched herself across the coffee table and landed in his lap.
Framing his face in both hands, she had to raise her voice to be heard over Devon’s delighted laughter. “Don’t get too big for your britches, Devon Sparks. You most certainly are an idiot if you don’t know how much I love you.”
Her palms were warm against his cheeks, her green eyes even warmer as she gazed down at him.
Warmest of all, though, were her lips when he tugged her closer and attempted to imprint the wild, surging emotion coursing through him onto her mouth.
This love stuff isn’t easy, Devon reflected as Lilah made a soft mewl and kissed him back, but it has infinite potential. And like everything Devon had ever decided to succeed at, he’d work tirelessly until he got it right.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Everyone had gone home. Paying customers, servers, line cooks, a bartender, even a restaurant manager. Market was as close to quiet as it ever got when Frankie was around.
Drained dry, Frankie stretched his neck and reached to crank the volume on the small CD player. Halfway to Sanity was already in, and the first track, I Wanna Live, captured his mood perfectly. Johnny Ramone’s guitar screamed out of the tinny speakers, half jubilation, half desolation.
And as Joey started singing about lovers exposing the truth and being a damn fool, Frankie shivered. Then footsteps on the stairs up from the employee locker room.