That didn’t make him feel any better. His ego may have wanted Gina and Crystal to suffer, but his heart didn’t. No, he didn’t want that for Gina and Crystal. Crystal’s suffering was over. She’d died and Gina was trying to raise his daughter all on her own.
He was still all twisted up. It was like standing there naked. He’d built this persona around himself, made himself believe he was this successful billionaire, but inside, he was still that guy from a trailer park.
There were days he felt as if any minute someone was going to come tell him that it had all been a mistake and he had to give it back.
And sitting in court next to his lawyer in the town that only knew him as poor white trash kept reminding him that it was a possibility.
“I think we should go to the Bullhorn for lunch.”
“Isn’t that where she works? What are you doing?” Gray shoved his papers in his briefcase.
“I just... I need to see her.” Reed wanted to assure himself that despite all of this, everything they’d both been through, that she was still Gina. Gina of the soft eyes, the tender hands, Gina who would be a good mother.
“You just saw her.”
“No. I need to see her.” He hoped that Gray would understand.
He didn’t. Gray was made of steel and granite. Everything was very simple for him. “That’s what the meeting is for that I’m arranging with her lawyer.”
“Are you coming or what?” Well, he’d drag him along, anyway.
“That’s what I like about you, Hollingsworth. You live to make my job harder.” But Grayson smiled. “How do you know she’s going to work, anyway?”
“She’ll go to work. That’s what she does. A tornado couldn’t keep her away.” That was, if she was still the Gina he knew. Maybe she wasn’t. People were allowed to change. After all, hadn’t he?
Half an hour later Reed found himself sitting alone in a corner at Bullhorn BBQ, Gray having opted to have lunch elsewhere to keep plausible deniability. The place hadn’t changed at all. It still had that rustic mom-and-pop feel to the place—all the meat was smoked out back in a smoker. You could smell this place for miles.
The tables were covered in plastic red-and-white-checkered cloths, the chairs all a mismatched lottery, some scarred and ancient and others with a little less wear. The food was served in red plastic baskets, the kind you’d see in any diner in Nowhere, USA. There was something about the waxy brown paper that lined those baskets that made the food taste better.
Or maybe that was just a good association. Whenever he saw food served like that, it reminded him of the good times of his childhood. Of Gina sneaking food out the back door to him when his mother hadn’t been home in weeks, or she was too stoned to care. The taste had always been like heaven.
It had been years since he’d eaten in a place like this. Now it was all business dinners, charity balls and food prepared by a personal chef.
But as soon as the scent hit him, with a follow-up punch of nostalgia, all that had been wiped away. There was a part of him that wished he was still that screwed-up kid coming to beg food from her. She’d always had a smile for him then. He never had to doubt what she wanted from him.
He’d been worth something to her then.
Some movement caught his eye and he turned to see the object of his thoughts. Having seen her from a distance that morning in court still didn’t prepare him for the reality of her. For the hurricane of emotions that swept through him when he saw her. It was like a physical blow that knocked the breath from his lungs.
At first, he didn’t think it was her—it couldn’t be. She’d been demure this morning, a pale version of herself.
Yet it was her, in all the glorious flesh.
She was wearing a Bullhorn shirt that was stretched snug across her breasts, the horns of the bull curled enticingly over her wares. Gina had never filled out the shirt like that before...
It was tucked into cargo pants that hugged her hips and ass in the most enticing way. And he wasn’t the only one looking. Her ponytail swung as she expertly negotiated the floor with trays of ribs and pulled pork, and he wondered if her hair smelled like that flowery shampoo she loved or if she’d smell just a bit like barbecue. Both made his mouth water.
“Gina-bee!” a small voice exclaimed and someone held up a large, red plastic cup. “Root beer, please?”
He froze, his assessment of Gina finished for the moment. That small voice was a cold splash of reality. Suddenly, he was afraid to look. That could only be Amanda Jane. Her blond curls bounced as she wagged the cup around for Gina’s attention. She looked so much like him, it was uncanny.
His heart did something in that moment. It froze, it melted, it shattered—it did everything a heart could do. He was overwhelmed by the fact that he was a father. This little person—he’d helped create her. She was part of him.
And he didn’t even know her.
His fingers curled into a fist. He didn’t know her because they didn’t want her to know him. Crystal didn’t tell him. He’d have expected Gina to try to get in touch with him, at least.
She had. Now that she knew he had money.
“Certainly not. You’ve had enough.” Gina’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“But I said please.” Amanda Jane’s lower lip curled into an exaggerated pout.
“Yes, you did.” Gina smiled and the expression lit up her face. “Thank you. How about water?”
The pout inflated, but then disappeared. “May I have root beer and ribs tomorrow?”
“I’m surprised you’re not sick of ribs.” Her voice had an indulgent tone to it.
Amanda Jane shook her head. “Never,” she said vehemently.
Gina slid a new glass, presumably filled with water, toward the girl on the way to clear another table.
For a moment, he had a glimpse of a life he’d been afraid to want. Of being a father to a sweet-faced girl who looked much like his own baby photos and being a husband to a woman like Gina.
If he’d had any sharp utensils near, he would have gouged that thought out of his head any way he could. But it was possible. All he had to do was say yes. Gina would do this, if only to keep custody of Amanda Jane.
As if she felt the weight of his gaze, she turned and Gina froze in the midst of wiping her hands on a napkin.
He watched her face change like the ebb and flow of the tide. She was always so easy to read. Reed would’ve thought the world might have hardened her more, taught her to hide her emotions. But everything she felt bloomed bright on her face with no reservations.
For a second, she was surprised to see him, then there was a happiness in her eyes that startled him. He hadn’t expected that—genuine happiness at the sight of him. But it faded quickly into a scowl.
“What do you want?”
“Lunch.” Reed didn’t mean to sound so cavalier, but it was his only defense against her. What else could he say? I came here because I wanted to see you?
He was conflicted about what that thought wrought in him. He didn’t want her to be working the same job, stuck in the same cycle, wasting away—all her potential squandered. But if she was chasing his bank account, what else would she be doing?
Still, she didn’t seem unhappy.
She was gentle with Amanda Jane, patient. That wasn’t the behavior of an addict.