“Start what?” I ask, not understanding what he’s trying to ask me. There are too many things on my mind right now to focus.
“Her period,” he whispers harshly.
“Oh! No, this isn’t that. We just like to gorge on takeout and watch movies from time to time,” I answer. “I thought it was just going to be us. She kind of sprung you on me.”
“I would apologize if I was sorry, but I’m not,” he says, making me smile.
“I know.”
“Are you mad?” he asks me.
“No,” I answer honestly, even though I’m freaking the fuck out.
Maybe there’s another solution to my problems. Maybe Rachel and I could move back to New Jersey, and then Rick would only be in our lives from time to time. But his words from last night ring in my ears. I know that if I try to run again, I won’t get very far. Nine years ago, we were young and dumb, and Rick was fairly newly minted to the teams with only a few missions under his belt. Now, he has the resources of the most powerful man in the world accessible to him at his very fingertips. I have no doubt that if Rick asked, Jake would rain hell on me to get his friend’s daughter back for him. And to be honest, if I were in his shoes, I would do the same fucking thing.
“I love this movie!” Rachel says like it’s a war cry as she queues up theTrollsmovie.
“I can’t wait,” Rick says with a gentle smile for his only child, and the moment is so tender and sweet, but I still can’t help the smirk that curls up the right corner of my mouth, because this poor man has no idea what he has just gotten himself into.
“Great choice, sunshine girl.” It was also the only choice. Since the movie came out, we’ve been listening to the soundtrack in the car and singing at the top of our lungs whenever humanly possible. She also watches the movie on repeat.
“What’s that look for?” Rick asks me suspiciously.
“Oh no reason.”
I grab my plate and load it up with mu shu chicken roll up in the little dumpling wrappers, fried rice, and crispy wontons. I scoop up my chopsticks and sit back so I can watch Rick enjoy his evening.
Rachel scoops up a paper carton of orange chicken and a pair of chopsticks to dive in. She spins them around her fingers like a drummer in a hardcore marching band and then dives in. I smile proudly, because I taught her that move, and it’s nice to see her enjoy it.
“Those are some slick moves, princess,” Rick compliments her.
“Thanks.” She beams at her father. “Mom taught me.”
“I know,” he replies before turning a pointed look on me. “I remember the move well.”
I shouldn’t love that he remembers all the little things about me that he does, but I do. A shiver wracks up my spine as his dark-hazel eyes heat just a little. And I love it all. So I curl up in the corner of the sofa and pick at my dinner, wondering if I’ll have any heart left when I walk away from him one last time, because I have to. Whether he lets me or not, for Rachel’s safety, I have to find a way.
Rick picks up a container of steamed chicken and vegetables with no sauce or rice. It’s the same thing he always used to order. He would laugh when I scrunched up my nose at the boring choice, telling me that his body was a temple, and from the glimpses I’ve had of him over the last few months—most of our sexual encounters, he stays mostly clothed—it still is. Where I have softened around the edges with pregnancy and then life, Rick has stayed hard-bodied, ripped abs and all, and it’s bullshit.
This time, it’s his turn to smirk when he understands where my mind has traveled when he catches his disgusting dinner choice in my direct line of sight. He knows I love his body, and I always have. But it can’t go on like this. So I silently force out a heavy sigh and then eat the rest of my feelings and mu shu.
When the movie is over, Rachel quickly clicks over toPitch Perfect. And I want to laugh at the look on Rick’s face. I don’t. I come close, but I find some restraint.
“Something funny over there, pretty girl?” he asks me.
“No, not a thing,” I answer before moving my hand across my chest in an exaggerated X. “Scouts honor.”
“So when does old Dad get to pick a movie?” he asks, and Rachel shoots him a look that would make mere mortals cower. I like to think she gets that look from him, like it’s coded in her DNA.
“Why?” she asks suspiciously. “What would you pick?”
“I don’t know…Braveheart,The Patriot,” he suggests. “No?”
“Uhh…” I laugh. “Don’t you think those are a little bloody for an eight-year-old?”
“Umm…” he says, looking uncomfortable, and I want to put him out of his misery.
“Ice cream time!” she shouts before pausing the movie and running into the kitchen.
