Page 40 of Peaches & Pistols

I despised being a homemaker for Carter. His exacting standards were ever-changing, as if to give him reason to punish me.

But with Greyson, I find great joy and satisfaction making sure he has a clean space to come home to, that everyone’s bellies are full, and that he can focus on work and being a great dad, without the added stressors of domestic life. And that includes making his daughter happy.

The note in my pocket burns through the worn cotton of my jeans. He left it for me this morning, as usual. But this one was different.

Dinner at the ranch. Relax today, you’ve busted your ass. Steal some candy after they go to bed.

This message is more personal, somehow. In my affection-deprived brain, it’s almost flirtatious.

But my heart or my head either don’t know the difference between kindness and flirtation, or don’t care.

More and more often, I find myself combing through the “ifs” of my situation.

If I never married Carter, I wouldn’t have Everly.

If Carter hadn’t mistreated me, I would’ve never left.

If I never left, I never would’ve met Greyson.

If I wasn’t married anymore, would Greyson look at me differently?

If I wasn’t Greyson’s employee, would he be interested in me?

If he’s as attracted to me as I am to him, could we join our families and build a life together?

That’s the “if” that always gets me. Stops me in my mental-tracks. Dreams are just that, dreams. Wanting something badly enough doesn’t make it possible or happen.

So, I settle for moments like this, where he speaks to me as a human, not as his nanny or any other person. I collect morsels of kindness from this man and store them away for when I need a little bit of sun on a stormy day.

Having a unicorn-pirate-queen walking beside my little glitter ninja, is the cherry on top. Everly’s been obsessed with ninjas for going on two years. She was a ninja last year too, and I asked her repeatedly if she was sure she wanted to be one again. She insisted she has to keep working to become the best ninja.

I suppose she needs the practice because she’s literally the least stealthy ninja of all time.

Greyson’s shoulder brushes mine, one or both of us having inched closer to the other, but neither of us move away. Each tiny brush sends crackles of electricity along my skin.

Neglected. Grieving. Married to a monster. Crushing on my employer.

Way to go, Mia. You’ve really got your shit together.

14

Taking the girls to the ranch.

Left you a little something extra

in your lunch. Let me know

what you think!

The note in my hand is wrinkled from how hard I’m gripping it. I came home for lunch, like always, and was disappointed to find the apartment empty. Thought that since it’s fall break for the kids, they might be around.

It’s only Harper I was looking forward to seeing. Not Mia. I’m not obsessively watching the clock hoping to catch her smile. Naw, just want to see my kid happily playing with the kid of the woman I’m tipping into madness over.

I’m starving and have punished myself enough with self-loathing over my pathetic need to see her. My lunch is in the same spot as always, where Mia leaves it for me. I’m both expectant and surprised every time I find it waiting for me.

The fact that she left me something extra has my stomach flipping—from hunger, not from the extra care she put in for me—and salivating, because her cooking is addicting. I’ve never eaten so good in my life, and my jeans are letting me know it.

Today she’s plated leftover pot roast, fingerling potatoes, and carrots. The meat fell apart in the perfect way, tender as all get out, the root vegetables perfectly tender, seasoned like a best-selling restaurant dish.