Wilde by Abby Brooks
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Amy
“What are you doing here?”
I could pick that gravely rumble out of a crowd. And sure, standing outside his business doesn’t exactly weaken the odds, but still. I bite my lip when I face him.
Since the only thing I wanted to do today was make things right between Leo and me, I couldn’t bring myself to give up after my angry drive through the country. I went home to regroup, then back to his house, but the Scarlet Harlot was nowhere to be seen. That meant my last shot was Inked. His car was here, but he was not, so I plopped myself in front of the door to wait.
I need to cross this conversation off my list because I’m not ready for us to be over. This can’t be the end. We have to talk about what happened in order to move past it.
And surely, we can move past it.
We just have to recognize all the ways we weren’t actually moving in the first place.
We’ve been stuck in a fairy tale without a beginning or an end.
Leo’s feet are rooted in place as he stares me down, the bruises and swelling on his face showing even though he tried to hide them with his aviators. Add that to the wicked mark on his shoulder and I feel like even more of an ass. When he took his shirt off earlier today, the feeling that swelled up inside me was too strong to name.
With him in front of me now, my heart and my head are at odds over which emotion to give in to.
On the one hand, it’s so good to see his face.
On the other, I’m still not sure how to feel about all that’s happened.
Then I remember he’s been through as much as I have, only he’s been through it alone.
Then again, he kicked me out of his freaking house.
I open my mouth to explain that I’ve been a wreck since the moment Avery tried to pull me out of the car, but my words are suddenly as tangled as my emotions. “I was driving by and saw the Scarlet Har…uh, Jezebel in the parking lot. Thought I’d see if you were busy. Then you weren’t here and I wasn’t sure what to do next…”
Leo bristles, his eyes narrowing. “What you should do next seems pretty fucking obvious if you ask me.”
His words hurt, laced with accusation and bitterness.
“I know you’re upset, but let’s not do this that way, okay? I just want to talk. Can we? Please?”
He shakes his head and sighs as he steps past, digging in his pocket for the key to Inked. Without a word he releases the lock, pulls the door open and steps inside, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.
How can things already be falling apart when we haven’t even started talking?
I shake my head and reluctantly follow him in. “So, what do you think I should do that’s so obvious? Because this is the second time today I’m standing in front of you and you’re not exactly easy to talk to.”
Looking up from his seat behind the counter, Leo sneers. “Um, apologize.”
“Jesus, Leo! That’s what I’ve been trying to do since I knocked on your door this morning! And I’m not sure you’re the only one who deserves an apology here…”
One brow quirks over the other but he doesn’t blink or break eye contact. “You’re joking, right?” he asks at last. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
Why is he so combative? It makes me so nervous I can’t think straight.
With my patience stretched to the max, I give up waiting to be invited to sit and help myself to the stool across from him.
Leo motions with his hand. “Fine. Go on.”
“Um. With the apology?”
He nods like I’m a toddler just now understanding a new concept.
“Whatever.” I snort, frustrated past the point of being able to keep my inside thoughts inside any longer. “What’s the point in even trying if this is how you’re going to behave?”
“Right. Everything’s my fault all over again. Great apology.”
I growl and shake my fists at the sky. “That! That behavior right freaking there! That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
“What? Because I think you owe me an apology, you think I’m behaving badly? I see. Bad, bad Leo.” He mockingly slaps the top of his hand.
I grab my keys and turn to go. “I don’t know what I thought would happen, arguing with a six-year-old.” Reaching for the door, I pause and spin back on my heel. “Just answer one thing honestly, will you? Do you think you’ll ever be ready to help me raise a child?”
Leo sits up, flexing his chest and back like a peacock flaunting his tail. “What do you mean? I’m ready now, damn it.”
I shake my head as I huff a laugh. “Then don’t you think it’s time you stopped acting like a child and actually grew up?”
“What the hell did you just say to me?” He stands with enough conviction to topple his stool. “I’m no child! I own my own home!” He motions around the room then pounds his finger into his chest. “I run my own goddamn business! What more do you want?”
I don’t understand what button I just triggered that suddenly has him up and screaming at me but it’s a pretty clear realization he’s never going to get where I’m coming from. I sigh in exasperation. “Leo, you constantly obsess about becoming famous and living someplace exotic or traveling the world. And that’s all fine for a single guy with a crazy special gift like you have. But it’s not what I’m looking for in a father to my child, you know?” I soften my tone, trying to let him see how sincerely I mean what I say. “Or, in a partner.”
I pause, praying the last part lands. When I see him already playing through his argument with me in his head, fear and frustration gets the better of me. “Hell Leo, you’re still getting into fist fights, for God’s sake, then demanding I apologize—which I already have—because I handled my fear the same way you did? When you ran from the doctor’s office it was fine. When I ran, it’s not. How is that not childish?”
I know the last one crossed the line the moment I say it. I want to take it back—I’d kill to take it back, but the look on his face is clear. There’s no coming back from that.
Not in one piece, anyway.
When he speaks, his tone is reserved. His voice quiet. His energy changed. “You know, maybe you’re right.” He picks up the stool, sets it down carefully, and takes a seat. “Half-right, anyway. Maybe it’s time I face the fact that I’m just not cut out to be a father. Maybe the best thing for all of us is for me to bow out now. I had plans for my life before you came barreling through that door. Feels like it’s time to get back to them.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
Leo stares me down, an ocean of indifference in those mahogany eyes. “Then what are you saying, Amy? Because it sounds like you want me to be something we both know I’m never going to be. I mean you stand here, in my place of business, and tell me my lifestyle is childish and I need to grow up in order to be a dad. So I’m telling you—fuck it. Dad isn’t in my job description anymore.”
“You can’t be serious. Biology says it’s firmly in your job description.”
As pissed as I am, the implication of what he’s saying weighs heavy on my soul. This so isn’t what I wanted.
Leo shakes his head. “You know, before all this shit went down, I actually thought you understood me. It felt like maybe, just maybe, the risk I took letting my guard down with you was paying off. Guess that’s what I deserve for letting you overrun my camp.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, confused by the strange statement. “You’re saying you would rather run away—even if it means having nothing to do with your own flesh-and-blood—just to keep living some Neverland fantasy life?”
“I’m sorry.” Leo brings his finger to his lips and taps thoughtfully. “Which one of us is living a fantasy life? Last I checked, I have a thriving business just about to blow up with an investor itching to take me to the next level. And I can just outright buy whatever the fuck furniture I want without worrying how much it costs. Meanwhile, you have no job, live with your dad, dropped out of school, and have zero fucking prospects. You fell into my life with your little quarter life crisis, got pregnant and I almost dropped it all for you! But somehow, someway, you think you’re better than me. How are you going to support that baby, Amy? Huh? You just gonna let Daddy take care of it all for you?”
I blink furiously as his words strike again and again.
Leo shakes his head. “That’s what I thought. And considering you just low-key told me to grow up, again, with your little Peter Pan reference, I think I’m gonna go with, yeah. I’d much rather run away. Like a hundred percent. If it gets me away from you and the crazy that follows you.”
I have to get the hell out of here because I’m about to cry—and no way does he get to see that. I stop as the door opens and the bells jingle. “Good luck in LA. I hope you get everything you deserve."