Make Me Lose Control. Christie Ridgway

      “And?” London’s prompt was oh-so-casual.

      “And we ended up getting married.” Though in his mind there’d been no hurry to get rings. He would have been content to date Elsa—yes, and bed her. Six months later, however, she’d come to him with the news of her pregnancy and the suggestion of a quick trip to Las Vegas. Jace had considered marrying the mother of his child the right thing to do, despite her father’s fury.

      “But then my mom went to London.”

      “Then your mom went to London. There were some issues with her family she wanted to get away from. And I...I had financial responsibilities in LA that meant I couldn’t leave with her.” By then, Hal Olson was clearly losing his fight with cancer and wanted Jace to take over the company, giving him a big piece of it so that he would keep Olson Construction in business. That way, Hal had ensured a future income for his young grandchildren.

      “But I did come visit you,” Jace said. “Do you remember that?”

      London was looking down now, her pencil in hand as she drew idly on her paper. What did girls doodle? He was a swords-and-stacks-of-boxes kind of guy. These looked like tiny circles or maybe a bed of flowers.

      “I think I’ve seen some photos of us together,” she said, frowning a little. “Or maybe they’re memories. I’m not sure.”

      “Every couple of months I came to see you, until you were about five.” Things had gotten sticky with Elsa after that. She’d filed for divorce and then he’d taken the company international, which meant long periods of time in India, Vietnam, China. He cleared his throat again, wondering how much to say. “I should have kept up my visits. Your mom...”

      “You don’t have to say it.” London glanced over, her voice lowering. “I knew my mom pretty well.”

      Shit. A kid shouldn’t have to sound like that, like she’d been the adult in the relationship. He wanted to punch his own face again. At the time, he’d done what he’d thought was best, sending money, sending—

      “Really, it’s all right,” the teen said. “She could be lots of fun. Exciting to be around, you know? In a drama-rama kind of way.”

      Yeah, he knew. But he also knew that at this moment the kid sounded like she was a fifty instead of fifteen.

      London had scribbled a field of flowers now. “And you know what? She was really good at picking books.”

      Everything inside Jace froze. If he moved, he thought he might crack in two. “Oh?” he managed.

      “Mmm-hmm. Every month or so she’d give me two or three—some just out, others that were old but I’d never read before.”

      There was pain in his chest and pain at the base of his skull. They both throbbed in time to the dirge of his heartbeat. “That’s...that’s great. A nice memory. A very nice memory.”

      The computer screen had gone black now and Jace was grateful his ex’s image was gone. He put his hand to the back of his neck and tried to massage away the discomfort.

      “Jace?”

      Masking a wince, he shifted toward Shay, who was staring at him from the other side of the table.