“You know, in the same house?Families do that.Are we a family?”
Jane took the bowl from her daughter’s hands.“Yes, Billie, we’re a family.As for living together, there are a lot of details to be worked out.”
“What about the houses?We shouldn’t have two.Can we live with Adam?I promise I won’t slide down the banister.”
Jane smiled at the girl.Adam wondered if Billie saw how her mouth quivered at the corner and the panic in her eyes.“I’ve told you about not making promises you can’t keep.”
Billie sighed heavily.“I’lltrynot to slide down the banister too often.”
“That’s better.”
“So can we?”
Jane looked at him and silently pleaded for help.He set the plates on the counter and crouched in front of Billie.Without herbaseball cap, she looked smaller and more feminine.He tapped her nose.“Your mother and I have to work out the details of this arrangement.As soon as we’ve come to some sort of agreement, we’ll let you know.Agreed?”
“Agreed.”Billie peered at him.“Are you my dad forever?”
The lump appeared in his throat without warning.“Yes.Forever.”
“You won’t go away?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes dads leave.There were two girls in my class last year whose dads left.One of them had to move.”
He didn’t dare look at Jane.“Sometimes parents do things their children don’t understand.But no, I won’t ever leave you.Not after I’ve just found you.”He rose to his feet.She held out her arms and he swung her up into his embrace.
“What does a dad do?”she asked.
“I’m not sure.We’ll find out together.”
“Do you buy me presents on my birthday?”
“Yes.”
“And Christmas?”
“And Christmas.”
“Like a bike?”
“Billie!”Jane shook her head.
Billie leaned closer to him and whispered, “In case you wanted to, you know, ask what I’d like for Christmas, I’d like a bike.”
“I’d never have guessed,” he said, holding back a smile.
“Enough,” Jane said, planting her hands on her hips.“Billie, finish clearing the table.Adam, do you want cake?”
He lowered Billie to the floor and watched her scurry out of the room.Then he turned back to Jane.Several strands of hair had escaped from her braid and now drifted around her face.She wasn’t wearing much makeup, just something to make her lashes longer and her eyes look mysterious.Any lipstick had long since worn away.But that didn’t stop him from staring at her mouth.
If he concentrated, he could almost taste her sweet passion.It hadn’t been that many days ago that he’d kissed her in anger.Despite the rage he’d felt and his need to punish her, she’d more than met him halfway.It had been a joining of equals, not ofteacher and student.A blush stained her cheeks, but he didn’t stop staring.His gaze drifted down to her chest and the row of impossibly small buttons marching from the top of the scooped neck down to the dropped waist of the dress.Her loose clothing hid her shape.Nine years ago she’d felt self-conscious about her small breasts.Had another man taught her that it was the soul of the woman that drove a man wild; that her body was simply packaging?Had other hands taught her that size didn’t matter, that smaller might be more sensitive, that skin as smooth as hers could only ever be perfect?How many lovers had completed what he had begun?How many had made up for his boorishness?
“Adam?”She spoke his name softly, responding more to his look than asking a question.
He took a step toward her.Billie burst into the room carrying three glasses and a serving plate balanced precariously on top.He leapt toward her to rescue the china.The plate teetered.He caught it as it fell.
“Oops,” she said.
