Page 53 of Bobby

“Hey, Willow,” Payton says almost immediately, as if she was standing right by Lily.

“Hey. I’m so sorry about all this. Thank you so much for watching the girls for me.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. After seeing you over the weekend, I was already telling Tommy that I wanted to spend more time with you and the girls. When Bobby called asking for a favor, I almost stole the phone from Tommy to say yes.”

I smile at that. True or not, it’s what I need to hear. “Well, thanks again. And please tell Tommy I said thank you as well.”

“Don’t worry about it. Consider this a happy accident. A night off from mom duty. When was the last time you could say that?” She laughs before saying her goodbyes and ending the call.

But I’m still stuck on her words as I continue to chop the rest of the fruit.

A night off? That’s literally never happened before. Even now, I might be without the girls, but is it really a complete night off? There was no setup for me to prep for this, no three-week plan for a night away. Just a panic attack that set all this into motion. But the more I think on it, I wonder if this is actually the blessing in disguise Payton was referring to. If I had time to plan a night away, would it be better or worse? This is the first time I’ve been away from the girls. I’m forced to stay here. But if given the option, would I have bailed because a night without the girls felt wrong on some level?

But… freeing on another?

Does it make me a bad mother?

I dismiss the thought as soon as it pops into my head. My girls are happy. They want for nothing, and it’s not as if I abandoned them. They’re with friends. I might not know Tommy, but I trust Bobby. He would never leave my girls with someone who wouldn’t treat them like their own.

I hear the shower turn off, and I put the fruit in a bowl I find and keep it out on the peninsula counter while I clean up the mess. The kitchen is compact but still beautiful. Cabinets and appliances line the back wall before curving outward in a U-shape with a window over the sink at the center. Big enough for a man of Bobby’s stature with hints of being cozy for two.

“The girls okay?”

I nod, wiping down the last of the surfaces before looking up and answering.

“They’re fi—” My voice dies as I drink him in. I scan him before I can stop myself. Water is still dripping from his hair, dropping onto his white shirt, which has become translucent. His sweatpants match mine, but while mine are loose, his fit snugly. Maybe even tight, as I can see the outline of him. Every part. And the pièce de résistance is that he’s barefoot.

Like me.

“You aren’t wearing your glasses.”

“I only need them to read.”

“Then why—” I stop myself with a shake of my head and a small smile on my face. “You’re always reading.”

He grins. “Yeah. Hazards of the job. When I was a kid, it was because I liked to read books and study, and I ended up doing both of them most days. When Dad died and the family business fell to us, the weekends of playing with my brothers and being without them seemed to be few and far between. Now, it seems five minutes don’t go by before I have to read an email or a contract.”

Seeing him like this—with his hair not styled perfectly, his face free of frames, and without the suit—isn’t off-putting. Quite the opposite, actually. I feel that if I move an inch, I’ll end up jumping on him and having my way with him.

“Hungry?” He walks by me and heads to the fridge. He pulls out some platters with sandwiches and other things before setting them on the countertop next to the fruit.

“Are you not planning on working anymore?” I can’t seem to get over him not having to wear glasses. I just thought it was a part of him. Like some might have a dimple in their chin or a widow’s peak.

“Maybe in a little while. Figured we could both use a break.” He sits and starts filling two plates. I sit next to him and try not to stare. But it’s hard.

He notices—of course he does—and winks.

I blush at being caught and look away as I pick up my turkey sandwich.

“What’s with those?” I point to the last item he pulled out from the fridge that seems more like a dessert than lunch.

Now it’s his turn to blush. “I told the girls you weren’t feeling well when I spoke to them the first time, when the school contacted Mary to pick them up early due to the weather. They said that those were your favorites.”

A small laugh leaves my lips as I look at the chocolate-covered strawberries. “We made them on Valentine’s Day. Just a little extra something. Lily was convinced that Valentine’s chocolate was better than the other types out there, and we all had to list our favorites. I said it was these.” I point to the dessert. “Homemade always tastes better, in my opinion.”

Bobby coughs and shakes his head as he drinks from the water he brought for both of us. “Sorry to say, this is just something Marco picked up, so they might not taste as good.”

“Well, at least they won’t be as messy, that’s for sure.”