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Because I’m going to find him, and I’m going to tie him up if I have to, and…
I’m going to demand some fucking answers.
Good. Plan. Break.
I stifle a groan, toss back the blankets, and stand.
“Damn,” I mutter, sore as fuck, knowing that my muscles will chill, but it’ll take a hot shower and copious amounts of stretching and foam rolling to get there. I hobble to the dresser, pull on enough clothes so that I’m decent and move through the door, make my slow way downstairs.
Roxie’s in the kitchen, sitting up at one of the stools, coloring while?—
Tiffany stands at the stove.
Christ.
Because…not his girlfriend.
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth.
Then exhale, long and slow.
Easy now.
“Mom!” Rox shouts and clambers down fast enough that I lurch toward her, toward my baby who’s just had surgery.
Which sends a sharp enough pain through my side and back and shoulder and hips that I freeze, breath hissing out between my teeth.
Meanwhile my daughter—circling back to her just having had surgery—bounds over to me and throws her arms around my middle. “Hi, Mom.”
I ignore the pain and smile down at her, squeezing her gently in return. “I guess this means you’re feeling good, baby girl?”
“Yup,” she says, nodding vigorously. “Tiff made me pancakes and brought me a new coloring book. Look”—she bounds over and picks it up—“it has Spiderman on it.”
“So, it does,” I say softly, glancing over at Tiff, whose expression is unreadable.
“Can I make you some pancakes, Brit?” she asks, holding up the bowl like it’s a peace offering. “I still have some batter left.”
“As delicious as that sounds,” I tell her, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “It’s not a Cheat Day.”
“Mom follows a special diet to make her strong,” Rox announces, climbing back onto her stool.
“Oh wow,” Tiff says, bringing the bowl to the sink and washing it. “That must be why she plays so well.” Her gaze comes back to mine. “I saw the game last night. You were great.”
Warmth in my belly.
Because even when I hated her because I thought she was in a relationship with Stefan, I still knew she was nice.
And she’s still nice, offering to cook me breakfast (or brunch or pancakes for lunch) and coming over to spend time with Roxie.
Which reminds me.
“Thanks,” I tell her then tilt my head to the hallway. “Have a second?”
Her brows draw together, but she sets the bowl down and nods. “Of course.”
I ruffle Rox’s hair. “Be right back, munchkin, and then will you show me your coloring?”
“Yup,” she says, fully focused on filling in the outline of Spidey saving a school bus.
