They got in their truck and drove away.

Alone once again, Destiny found she couldn’t look at Kipling.

“I need to take care of Starr,” she said. “Why don’t you give us some time to work through this?”

She thought he might fight her, but instead he nodded and left. She went into the house.

Starr was waiting for her in the living room. She had Destiny’s guitar in her hand. Without saying anything, she handed it over then retreated to her room and closed the door.

Destiny sat on the sofa, her guitar next to her. She stared at the instrument, the implication clear. She would need the music because the only way to process her emotions was through a song. Only she was fine. Completely and totally fine.

Kipling didn’t love her. That wasn’t news. They got along. They were friends, and when she’d gotten pregnant, they’d made a sensible decision about their future. Everything was fine. Technically, it was what she’d always said she wanted.

He was a man who liked to fix things. She was his current project. There were worse fates.

She picked up the guitar and strummed the strings. Soft music filled the room. Love was a complication she’d never wanted or needed. To be the center of someone’s life—who needed that? Obviously, Kipling wasn’t in love with her. If he was, he would have said something. Or even hinted. But he hadn’t. He’d looked shocked. Maybe even horrified.

So he didn’t love her. That was fine, right? It wasn’t as if she loved him, either. Loving Kipling meant caring about him more than she cared about herself. It meant imagining life with him for years and years and being happy that of all the men she could have gotten pregnant with, she’d chosen him. Loving him meant being grateful he was in her life and trusting him to help her with Starr. Loving him meant that she knew for certain that forty years from now her heart would still beat faster when he walked into the room.

She realized the room had gotten a little blurry and blinked. Tears rolled onto her cheeks. She brushed them away, but more replaced them. Her throat tightened, and she fought against a sob. Because the truth had been there all along. She’d just never noticed. Somewhere along the way, she’d fallen in love with Kipling and as far as she could tell, he had no intention of loving her back.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

KIPLING KNEW THAT his week was about to get a whole lot worse. He sat at one of the tables by the bar and watched the rest of his partners take their seats. They were all there. Josh Golden, Raoul Moreno, Kenny Scott, Jack McGarry and Sam Ridge. The Stryker brothers: Rafe, Shane and Clay. Only Gideon was missing. Probably because he had already pulled out of the partnership.

Rafe, Josh and Kenny exchanged a look, as if they’d talked things over ahead of time, then Kenny turned to Kipling.

“We understand what happened with Carter,” he said. “If it was one of our daughters, we’d feel the same way. But the problem is bigger than you and Gideon going at it.”

“Kudos on taking him on,” Raoul added. “You know Gideon has Special Forces training, right?”

Kipling hadn’t known, but didn’t see how the information made any difference. He wasn’t going to stop protecting Starr because his opponent was dangerous.

Rafe shook his head. “If we could stay on topic...”

“I wasn’t off topic,” Raoul told him. “I was just saying, it took balls.”

“Big ones,” Kipling said. “Now why are we having this meeting?”

The partners exchanged a look that confirmed they’d all been in contact. Kipling was going to be the last to know, which meant the news wasn’t good.

“The women are upset,” Kenny said with a shrug. “The Man Cave is doing steady business. Not what we were at the opening, but still enough that they’re worried about Jo and how this is affecting her. Now personally I think she can take care of herself and her bar, but it’s not my decision. It’s Bailey’s.”

Kenny Scott was a big guy. Tall, muscled and a former NFL player. If Kipling had to pick the one person who wouldn’t be pushed around by the woman in his life, he would say it was Kenny. And he would be wrong.

“Let me see if I understand you,” Kipling said calmly. “We opened The Man Cave because there wasn’t a place in town for a guy to go and have a beer. Jo’s caters to women, and the restaurant bars aren’t the same. So we created this place together to solve a problem. Now you’re telling me you want out because it’s working?”

The other men shifted uneasily in their chairs.

“It’s not that simple,” Rafe began, then nodded. “But yeah, that’s about right. Look, the bar is great. I like it here. When I have a potential buyer in town, this is exactly where I want to bring him. But Heidi doesn’t like it. She and Jo are tight.”

“Jo talked to all your wives?”

Everyone nodded.

“And because she’s upset, you’re pulling out?”

“No,” Sam corrected. “Jo’s great, but I’m doing this for Dellina.”

The phrase “pussy whipped” came to mind, but Kipling knew there was no point in stating the obvious.

“Then go,” he said. “The business will survive without your support. I’ll make arrangements to buy you out.”

“No rush,” Rafe told him. “Start-ups need cash. You can pay me back last.”

“Me, too,” Jack said. “I just need to be able to tell Larissa that I’m out.”