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“How old is your daughter?” Heather asked.
I watched her relax back into her chair, and the movement pressed her leg closer to mine. Her body heat climbed, and her cheeks kept that healthy flush. I almost threaded our fingers together, just to see what she would do.
“She’s four,” I said. “She’s enrolled in a preschool here in town.”
“Is it just the two of you?” she asked.
“It is. Rebecca’s mother isn’t in the picture.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I fell in love with her, and she fell in love with my money, but I was so blinded by my passion for her that I didn't catch it until she filed for divorce, took me for the money she could get, and left her daughter behind in the process.”
I drew in a deep breath, trying to quell the nauseating anger bubbling up my throat. I’d never intended to divulge any of that information, but something about Heather made me feel so at ease.
“Thank you for telling me that,” Heather said. “I want to know this kind of stuff about you. It makes me more comfortable with this entire process.”
“What you’re doing for me—for my daughter—I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank you properly. Rebecca seems so lonely sometimes, and I know she wants a sibling badly.”
“Why’s she lonely?”
How the hell was I supposed to answer her question honestly without giving anything else away?
“My daughter’s a bit of an introvert like her father.”
“I get that. I was the same way in school. I just didn’t want to mess around with the idiots I sat next to in class.”
“That bad, huh?”
“My best friend is the only person I keep up with from high school. No social media. No phone calls. No reunions.”
“None of that stuff matters anyway. Everyone’s an ass in high school,” I said.
“You’re preaching to the choir on that one.”
I chuckled as a smile graced her cheeks. “She and I are very close. We talk about everything. Well, everything you can talk with a four-year-old about.”
“That’s a really good thing to have with your child. So many parents try to distance themselves from that kind of thing. Force their children into certain attitudes and moods without acknowledging that they’re small people and that their feelings have merit.”
“I was raised that way,” I said. “With that idea that I had to act and walk and feel a certain way about all things. No outbursts. No anger. Just calm and stoic all the time. No crying. No nothing like that. It’s bullshit.”
“It is. Especially for men, because it’s a complete stereotype that you all don’t have feelings.”
I slid the toe of my shoe up her bare ankle and watched her draw in a deep breath. I pulled my hand back and threaded our fingers together, watching as her arm flushed. Every little touch was so responsive on her skin. Every little movement I made drew from her a sound I wanted to magnify.
Hell yes I was breaking my own rules.
By breaking I mean running over them with a truck and hitting reverse.
There was something about Heather that let out a part of me I had locked away for years.
No other woman had this effect over me. It was undeniable, the moment we met.
She was smart, beautiful… exciting.
The kind of exciting I had denied myself for a very long time.
The kind I thought I’d never have again.
