By Degrees (52 page)

“So where does this leave us?” I ask, finally breaking the silence.

“You have a choice.”

My lips tremble.
 
“I do?”
 
I can barely get the words out.

“Yeah.”

“Fine.
 
What are my options?”

He takes my hands in his again.
 
“Well, option one is you can stand up, walk out that door, and never see me or Geneva again.
 
Free pass.
 
No hard feelings, just me with a broken heart and a baby to take care of.”

“That sounds like a pretty shitty option.
 
I hope there’s another one.”

His mouth goes up in a half smile.
 
“There is.
 
Your second option is to stay here in L.A. with me and Geneva.
 
We could live together and you could hang out with me while I take care of her.
 
Or you could live close by and visit a lot.”

My heart spasms with the pain that option brings.
 
Maybe it should make me happy, but I want more.
 
“Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Do either of those options sound like something you could do or want to do?”

“Maybe.
 
But I want to know what
you
want me to do.”

“Honestly?” he asks.

“Yeah.
 
Truth.
 
Truth … or dare.”

He sits up straighter, letting my hands slip out of his.
 
“Yeah, okay.
 
Truth or dare.”
 
His sexy confidence is back and my body instantly responds.
 
I have to wipe my mouth to keep from licking my lips in anticipation.

“You choose truth, then?” I ask.
 
My heart is hammering in my chest.
 
I can hear it in my ears.

“Of course.”

“That’s tricky you know.
 
Asking for truth.”

“So you’ve learned,” he says, leaning in closer to me.

“I’ve played with the best,” I say, moving in closer too.

“Go ahead then, do your worst.
 
Ask your question and I’ll give you the truth.”

“Okay fine.
 
What do you want me to do in this situation. With you and Geneva here.
 
The whole truth.”

“And nothing but?” he says.

“And nothing but.”

He breathes out through his nose once, hard.
 
“Okay.
 
Time to man-up.
 
I can do this.
 
Scarlett?”

“Yes?” I’m so anxious now as I wait for his words I can hardly sit still.

“I want you…”

“Yes…?”

He clears his throat and then pulls at the neck of his shirt.
 
“Is it hot in here or is it just me?”

I slap him on the arm.
 
“Don’t play.
 
Answer the question.”

“Question?
 
Did you ask me a question?”

“Tarin, I’m warning you…”

“What was it again?
 
I forgot.”
 
He’s grinning now, begging to be tackled.

“I’m not going to touch you until you finish the game.
 
Answer the question.
 
What do you want me to do?”

“You’re pushy.”

“Answer it.”

“I like pushy women.”

“Answer it.

“I like to have sex with pushy women.
 
In the family room.
 
On the floor.”

“Tarin!”
 
I jump over and tackle him backwards into the cushions.
 
Our faces are an inch apart.
 
“Answer the freaking question or you’re going to have to pay the forfeit.”

“Oooo, I get to be your slave for a day and give you an ass massage?
 
I choose forfeit.
 
Uncle.
 
I give.
 
You win.”

“No.
 
The forfeit in
this
game is you get to be
Scott’s
slave for a day and give
him
an ass massage.
 
And fair warning … he has a hairy ass.
 
Pimply too.”

Tarin grimaces.
 
“For reals?”

“For reals.
 
Answer the question.”

“Fine.”
 
He reaches up and kisses me quick.
 
“I want you to move in with me and Geneva and play house with us.”

I frown, scrunching up my eyebrows.
 
“Define
play house
for me.”

“Wake up, have breakfast, work out, walk the baby in the stroller, feed the baby, rock the baby, have sex with me while the baby sleeps, make some music together, walk the baby, feed the baby, rock the baby, eat another meal, have some more sex …”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

He smacks my butt.
 
“You’re a hard worker.
 
You could handle it.”

“Would it be me doing all that baby stuff?”

“We’d do it together. Team effort.
 
Me and you.
 
You and me.
 
You and me and Geneva makes three.”
 
He grins.

I die a little inside at his adorably stupid expression.
 
And then I think about the realities of that kind of life.

“I’m not sure I can do that, Tarin.”

He freezes, his smile faltering.
 
“What do you mean?”

I kiss him once, trying to ease the sting of my words.
 
“What if you decide you’re tired of me?
 
Tired of being home instead of out on the road?
 
What will you do then?
 
Disappear and leave me to take care of her?
 
Because as much as I like kids, I’m not sure I could handle that.”

He shakes his head.
 
“No fucking way.
 
‘Scuze the French, but no.
 
I’m not that kind of dad.”

Just hearing that word makes my heart melt a little.
Dad.
I stroke the side of his face.
 
“You’re a dad now.”

“Yeah.
 
I’m a dad now.
 
And I want you to be the mom.”

I sit up all of a sudden, my heart going double-time.
 
“What?”

Tarin sits up slowly, never taking his eyes off mine.
 
“I want you to
really
do this with me.
 
All the way.
 
I’m the dad, you’re the mom.
 
Together.
 
Us.”

I frown, torn between crying, screaming, and smiling.
 
I settle for the crying.
 
“Will you please just tell me what the hell you’re talking about?
 
I’m so confused right now, I don’t know whether you want a roommate, a mistress, a governess, or a wife.
 
Seriously.
 
Speak plainly or suffer my wrath.
 
My sanity is questionable at this point.”

Tarin stands up and pulls me to my feet.
 
Once I’m there he drops down on one knee.

“Oh my god,” I whisper.
 
“What are you doing down there?
 
Get up!”

He takes my hand in his and reaches around behind him.
 
Out of his back pocket he pulls a band of gold with a diamond perched on top of it.
 
His grin is a wonder to behold as he holds it up between us.

I can’t breathe!

I can’t breathe!

“Scarlett?
 
Will you be my baby momma?
 
The one who pulls me back from the brink and saves my soul when I’m about to toss it out with the trash?
 
The lady who plays truth or dare with me and forfeits on purpose just so she can give me an ass massage?
 
The girl who forgives me when I say and do stupid shit when I’m trying to be romantic?
 
Will you be the one who goes to bed with me at night and wakes up next to me in the morning and kisses me regardless of my morning breath?
 
Will you kick my ass in the boxing ring until we’re old and gray? Will you…”

“Tarin…”
 
I’m crying so hard, I can’t speak.

“Okay, I’ll cut it short.
 
Scarlett, truth or dare?

I stand stock still for a full ten seconds waiting to hear the voice of Austin’s spirit telling me to run.
 
But he remains silent.
 
The only thing I can sense inside the headspace where Austin normally resides is peace and acceptance.
 
I don’t know if it’s coming from him or my own heart, but it doesn’t matter.
 
I finally, for the first time in two years, feel healed and ready to move on with my life.
 
How could I not with this beautiful man before me down on one knee?

“Dare,” I say, the tears drying enough for me to speak.

He grins devilishly at me.
 
“Wise choice.
 
Okay, Scarlett …?
 
I dare you to marry me.”

I nod at Tarin, my smile hurts it’s so big.
 
“I’ll take that dare.”

“Good.
 
Glad you said that, because I got this rock on sale and they said they wouldn’t take it back.
 
And besides, I’m really not all that into ass massages.
 
I just said that before to con you into telling me your inner secrets.”

He slides the ring on my finger, and only when I’m sure it’s on good and tight do I grab a pillow and conk him over the head with it.

Chapter Fifty-Five

TARIN AND I ARE STROLLING down the sidewalk, taking turns pushing Geneva in her buggy.
 
The rings on my left hand sparkle in the late morning sunlight.

“So Scott’s moved on to his next project, huh?” Tarin says, his arm draped loosely over my shoulders.

I look off in the distance at the sound of a small engine coming our way.
 
“Ask him yourself,” I say, pointing to the blue Vespa zipping down the street.

It pulls up next to us, its rider flipping up the visor of his helmet.

“Yo, yo, yo, happy family, what’s up?”
 
Scott grins, making his eyes crinkle.
 
I can’t see his mouth, but he’s pretty much smiling all the time now, so I know it’s there.
 
He’s on top of the world, making serious cash money with finishing up Tarin’s job and now heading into his next one.
 
And this one’s even more high profile.

“Nice ride,” says Tarin, nodding as he takes in the gleaming powder blue metal and leather seat.

“Yeah, it gets about a hundred miles to the gallon.
 
Very enviro-friendly.
 
Plus all the ladies like it, so …yeah.”

“What up?
 
Moving on to your next project?” Tarin asks.

“Yeah.
 
Should be pretty decent.
 
Can’t share names.
 
Confidentiality agreements and so on, you know the gig.”
 
He pushes his scooter forward more so he can look in the buggy.
 
“How’s my goddaughter doing?”

“She hasn’t changed much since you saw her last night,” I say, rolling my eyes.
 
He sees the baby as much or more than I do.
 
Baby fever is running rampant in the Kilgour household, and I still can’t stand the idea of Scott moving out.
 
Luckily Tarin’s on board with a semi-permanent houseguest.

“They grow so fast,” he says, sighing.
 
Slapping his visor down he finishes off with a salute.
 
“Later, peeps.
 
Keep it real.
 
I’ll be in touch.”

Tarin and I wave as he buzzes off.
 
I laugh when he almost loses control and ends up in someone’s driveway in the process of recovering.
 
He waves back at us to let us know he’s okay.

“Are we sure the Vespa’s a good idea for him?” Tarin asks, looking back over his shoulder at Scott’s departing form as we continue our walk.

“Who knows?
 
As long as he stays in the neighborhood streets, I don’t think he can do too much damage.”

Geneva opens her pretty blue eyes and looks up at me.
 
I have to stop and pick her up.

“You’re going to spoil her picking her up like that all the time,” says Tarin. There’s no censure in his voice.
 
He knows his words are wasted on me.

“You can’t spoil a baby with love.”
 
I tickle her chin as I walk and she rewards me with a goofy baby smile.
 
“She just smiled at me again.”

“Doesn’t count unless someone else sees it.”

“Ricky confirmed it yesterday,” I say, still tickling her chin.
 
I cannot get enough of her beautiful face.
 
People can say what they want about Jelly, and the tabloids sure have done a lot of gossiping about her life and tragic death, but she sure makes beautiful little girls.
 
No one can argue that, and if they even try, they’re going to have to deal with me.
 
Scarlett Kilgour does not play when it comes to her daughter.

“You paid Ricky off with cupcakes, so that doesn’t count.”

Geneva blinks at me, her impossibly long, black eyelashes in stark contrast to her milk-white skin.
 
“Are your camera batteries all charged up?
 
I want to do another photo shoot later after her nap.”

“The other eight we’ve done this week weren’t enough?”

I look over at him.
 
“Am I being annoying?
 
I’m sorry.
 
I just can’t get over her, Tarin.
 
She’s just …”