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“Mom-meeee!”
I jump and push the covers off me. “See you downstairs.”
He sits up and grabs my hand, pulling me back to plant a quick kiss on my lips. “Be down in a few.”
Chance isn’t in the mood for talking, no he’s halfway to a tantrum from waking up and not finding me in my room.
“I’m right here, kiddo.”
His bottom lip juts out. “Where were you?”
I point to the loft behind me. “Talking to Z.”
He blinks and stares past my shoulder. “Oh.”
“Come on, let’s get you breakfast.”
It’s not until after we’ve all eaten and Chance has roped Z into a game of cars around the coffee table, that I finally settle down enough to have this talk.
“So, Chance,” I say, taking a seat on the couch and leaning forward to grab his attention. “There’s something Z and I want to talk to you about.”
He sets his cars down and peers up at me. “What?”
I shift my gaze to Z and the stark emotion on his face almost breaks me. “Remember when you asked who your daddy was?”
Chance may be little, but he’s smart as a whip and immediately seems to sense where I’m going with this conversation. He cranks his body toward Z. The excitement on my son’s face is a blade in my heart.
“Are you my daddy?” he asks in a high, hopeful little voice.
Z swallows hard and clears his throat before answering. “Yes, I’m your dad.”
Chance whips his head around and flings himself against me. “I has a daddy.”
“Yup.” I force the word out and hope he doesn’t notice I’m holding back a waterfall of tears. He doesn’t. Instead, he pushes away from me, stands on the couch and gives Z the biggest snuggle-hug.
“I like that you’re my daddy.”
The pain in Z’s eyes rips me apart. “I like it too, buddy,” he rasps out. Z holds on a little longer than Chance can tolerate and he wriggles free a few seconds later to play with his cars again.
“You’re okay with this, Chance?” I ask, my own voice so raw it hurts.
“Yup,” he chirps. “Thee’s my daddy.”
Every emotion crashes into me, punching me in the gut, making my eyes water and tightening my throat. I love my son more than anything. He makes even the impossible seem so much simpler.
Z glances up at me, and whatever he sees on my face changes his demeanor entirely. He taps Chance’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy. Why don’t we go down to the lake? Go grab your sweatshirt.”
“Okay, Daddy!” He leaps up and runs down the hall. Z briefly closes his eyes as if he needs a moment to soak in our son’s words.
Then he stands and takes a few steps toward me. “Come here.”
Trembling all over, I can’t make my feet work and I shake my head.
“Lilly,” he says in a low voice only meant for me. “It’s okay. Come here.” He puts a little more force into the last two words and it moves my feet forward.
“Jesus,” I breathe out, covering my face with my hands. I can’t stand him looking at me like that. “That was so much easier than I thought it would be. I’m sorry we didn’t do it sooner.”
I’m close enough for him to pull me against him and, even though I don’t deserve the comfort he’s offering, I soak it up, resting my cheek against his chest and listening to his heart race. “We did it when the time was right.” He lets out a soft, awed sound. “Hearing him call me Daddy. Fuck, Lilly. That was amazing. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” I murmur against his shirt and his arms tighten around me. His silent way of conveying his understanding that I’m thanking him for not making this harder.
“Ready!” Chance shouts, racing into the room. He wriggles in between us and peers up. “Why you hugging Mommy?” he asks Z with more than a hint of toddler jealousy. He may have accepted Z as his father easily, but accepting someone else having my affection, not so much.
Z side-steps the question by ruffling Chance’s hair. “Got your sneakers?”
“Yup!” he says, racing over to the front entrance closet.
“Do you want to go without me? You two should spend more alone time together,” I offer.
Z’s eyes flash with annoyance but it’s gone fast, leaving him blank and unreadable. “No, Lilly. I don’t want to do any of it without you.”
Z
My heart’s still thumping from hearing my son call me Daddy for the first time. But, Lilly. Oh man, my girl’s falling apart and it shreds the fuck out of me.
My son is amazing. So accepting. Too young to question us.
So much guilt seems to weigh Lilly down and I don’t have it in me to be cruel to her, no matter what feelings are waging war inside of me.
Am I even still angry?
I don’t know. I can’t seem to sort out what the fuck I feel. I know I love the way my son comes up, wraps his arms around my leg, and tips his head back, smiling so big. “Let’s go, Daddy,” he urges.
Shit, am I ever going to get used to the warm feeling sliding through my chest every time he says that?
“Let’s get your shoes on while Mommy grabs her coat.” I keep my eyes on her while I say the words so she knows I’m serious and I want her with us. I’ll fucking tie her damn shoes on her feet too if that’s what she needs.
Finally, she grabs a coat and slips into a pair of boots. We meet at the front door.
“Ducks!” Chance yells and I raise an eyebrow at Lilly.
“He wants to feed the ducks. I have some food in the kitchen for them. I’ll grab it.”
The ground’s hard and the three of us crunch over the frozen grass on the way down to the lake.
With my family.
Twenty-Two
Lilly
The rest of the day is colored by the morning. Chance takes every opportunity to hug Z and test out the words Dad and Daddy while they run around the lake feeding the ducks.
Inside, I’m crying every single time. Outside, I try to keep it together. Z seems to sense the war inside me and takes time to reassure me he’s not angry.
Well, not anymore.
We end up taking Chance to dinner at a small local restaurant and putting him to bed almost as soon as we return home.
“Did you wear him out on purpose?” I tease as I shut Chance’s door behind me.
Z grins, dimples blazing, and I have the crazy urge to kiss the little indentations.
So, I do.
Two quick kisses.
“What was that for?”
“Thank you for a good day.”
His smile grows. “It was good, wasn’t it?” The playfulness melts from his expression, and he places his hand on my hip, drawing me closer. “I want more days like this. For the three of us.”
“Okay.” What other answer could there be?
Gentle and sure, he pulls me in, his mouth near my ear, his hot breath floating over my neck.
“What do you want?” he asks in a rumbling, gravelly voice. It’s pointless to resist the way his words send a shiver down my spine.
Z clearly hasn’t stopped working out. Even through his soft, worn Henley his iron-flat stomach teases me.
Before Z, I preferred dating older men. Unavailable men. A lot of people assumed it was because I was a gold-digger. That couldn’t be farther from the truth, though. I worked hard my entire adult life to make sure I’d never be dependent on any man.
No man had ever made my lower belly clench with need the way Z does though.
“This,” I finally whisper.
He nods and presses me tight to his body. His lips trail down my neck to my collarbone, where my shirt stops his progress.
An unhappy growl works out of him and, more forcefully, he pulls me into my bedroom, shutting the door behind us.
He reaches over and flicks the light switch, flooding the room with light and I squint. “That’s not sexy.”
Ignoring me, he unbuttons my jeans and pushes them over my hips. His fingers s
lip beneath my panties and I flinch. For a few minutes, neither of us say a word. He holds my gaze as he pushes his hand between my thighs. “You’re wet.”
I reach down and grab his wrist. “You’re the reason.”
“Good.”
When I think he’s about to kiss me again, maybe take this farther, he withdraws and takes a few steps back.
“What are you doing?” I ask when I finally find my voice.
Holding my hand, he walks backwards to sit on the edge of my bed and guides me to stand in front of him. “Let me look at you.” He stares up at my face. “You’re so unbelievably beautiful, Lilly. I missed you.”
I’m utterly lost in him, something that used to terrify me. Now, it feels safe. I rest my hand against his cheek and rub my thumb over his bottom lip. “I missed you too.” My lips quirk. “You and your sinful mouth.”
His blue eyes gleam. He turns his head and kisses my palm. “I bet.”
He stands and takes his time pushing my pants off the rest of the way. When he tosses them aside, I take the opportunity to jump back toward the light switch and flick it off.
Something he protests right away. “I want to look at you.”
I reach over and click on the bedside lamp that gives off a softer glow. “This is more romantic.”
He narrows his eyes. “You never worried about that before.”
“We never had a son who might toddle into the room in the middle of the night.”
He still doesn’t seem convinced but finally shrugs. “Get over here.”
