Besides, who knows when I’ll be able to do this again. If I’ll be able to do this again.
Being this close to her, breathing in the summer sweetness of her hair, feeling the way her body seems to welcome the press of mine—it just feels right. This can’t be the one and only time, right?
I want you, but I can’t sleep with you.
If I let myself think about that one comment, I’ll go mad. We’re going to have to talk about that one some more, but not until she’s better.
Take Care of Millie. That’s priority number one today. I’m not gonna lie. Today isn’t the first day it’s made my three, but today, this one is going to drive everything else. In order to Take Care of Millie, I need to get her and Emmett to a walk-in clinic. Which means I need to make the time to do that, sooner rather than later.
Taking Care of Millie also means lightening her load. The kids are going to need breakfast, lunch, and dinner today. At a minimum. Last night, Mattie mentioned they were almost out of toilet paper. Who knows what else they need. I might need to call in reinforcements.
But Taking Care of Millie means protecting her privacy. Donner and Sam are going to show up soon, and I don’t want to be up here when they do. I don’t even want to be downstairs still in yesterday’s clothes.
Which means I need to make a quick decision about my next two priorities. I prop my head up and look at Millie.
Fuck Two and Three.
For the first time in months, I can’t even think of a Two and Three.
I need to move, but I can’t quite make myself. Memorizing her profile in sleep—the way her hair spreads over her pillow, her spice-colored, down swept lashes, her alabaster skin—I promise myself this won’t be the last time I see her like this. It can’t be.
The promise is the only way I can get out of her bed. And getting out of her bed is the only way I can think clearly. I scan her room and find a notepad on her dresser. I scribble a message letting her know I’ll be back by nine, and head out.
* * *
Even though it’sonly been about twenty-four hours since I last saw my apartment, this morning it feels…barren.Not just empty. Not just quiet. But destined never to be more than empty and quiet.
I’m used to spending precious little time here. It’s a place to sleep, to eat a quick dinner after work or have a cup of coffee in the morning, but after one night at the Delacroix’s house—a night that included a dinner run, a Marvel movie, and hours in Millie’s bed—it feels like an abandoned cave, and I can’t wait to get out.
Determined to be back before Millie can wake up and hatch any plans of her own to drive herself and Emmett to the doctor’s, I shower and dress as fast as possible and make quick stops at the two other job sites, checking that everything is in order.
I pull both site managers aside at each location and fix an easy goal for the day. Jobs they can finish by noon. Or sooner. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. For years, I watched Papi do the same thing for every major holiday.
It’s only eight-thirty when I get back to the Delacroix’s. Clarence greets me at the door, but despite the whine of the table saw in the garage, no one else is downstairs yet. Upstairs, every bedroom door is shut except Millie’s. Hers is open just like I left it, but the bed is empty.
Right as I walk inside, her bathroom door opens, and Millie steps out—in the middle of pulling on her jeans.
“Christ!” I swear.
“Aagh!” she shrieks.
I cover my eyes, but it’s too late. Blue on blue lace.Theblue on blue lace thong I handled in her laundry room. Adorning her feminine valley. Disappearing into her jeans. For the rest of my life, I’ll close my eyes and see nothing else.
“I’m sorry,” I choke, gulping for air.
“What. The. Hell. Luc?” Her voice sounds like tearing paper.
I’m the biggest fuck up to ever fuck up.Cabrón. Cabrón. Cabrón.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, still covering my eyes. “I was coming to check on you. I didn’t think you were up.”
I hope like hell her brothers haven’t heard this. Or Mattie. Or Sam and Donner for that matter. Where the fuck has my professionalism gone?
“Your note said you’d be here by nine. I was trying to get ready.” She sounds defensive, but, to my surprise, not really upset.
Blindly, I start walking backward. “I’ll go wait downstairs.”
“Well, I’m dressednow,”Millie says, her tone comical. “Might as well open your eyes.”
