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Chapter9
Ethan
“Daddy?” Oliver’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, thoughts that involve Amelia and the look in her eyes when I walked away from her on Friday for the thousandth time.
“Yeah, bud. Sorry, ask me your question again, please.” I glance in the rearview mirror to find Oliver in the backseat, rolling his eyes at me but kicking his legs as we cruise down the road.
“Are her gnomes still in the same spot?” he asks, launching himself forward in his seat.
“I don’t know. I didn’t look, and you need to sit back in your chair, please.”
“But I asked you to check, Daddy,” he whines. “They are supposed to come alive at night, and I want to know if they moved. You said you would check on Friday, and you didn’t. It made me sad.”
“I know, bud. I’ll check today, okay?”
“Don’t forget, Daddy.” He points a finger at me as he meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. And I can’t help but smile at the determination in his voice, as if he thinks he’s the one in charge here—which, let’s face it, most of the time he is. The boy has me wrapped around his finger, and I’d do anything to see that smile of his never falter.
“I’ll take a picture today, Oliver, just for you.”
His eyes light up. “Yes!”
“But you have to promise to be a good boy at school for your teacher and be good for Grandma when she picks you up.”
“I’m always good, Daddy. There are other kids who are bad every day, and I always tell them that they are, like Brayden. He never listens and throws things when we have to do work.”
“Brayden, huh?” Figures a kid with that name would be a nuisance, but maybe that’s just my own selfish disdain for anyone with that name.
Fucking Brayden.
I know I shouldn’t care if she went on a date with him since I’m the one that’s been up close and personal with the sweet haven between her legs and he hasn’t—at least I’m assuming he hasn’t after their lackluster date. But just seeing his name on her phone on Friday sent me over the edge, especially after she was the one that suggested we be exclusive. I know I acted irrationally, but my anger grew like a match being struck, quick and fast, before it died down later. But by then, I was knee-deep in a new client case and preparing for trial for another, and I figured having the weekend to cool off would be best.
And cooling off is exactly what I think needs to happen.
I can already feel myself becoming addicted to her, a detail I knew was inevitable. I tried desperately to convince myself I had control when I suggested our little arrangement. Now, I keep showing Amelia this side of me that is quick to erupt and hates a lack of control. I probably shouldn't be touching or thinking about her the way that I am, but I also can't stop.
Amelia St. Clair has dug her talons into me, and I don’t want to push her away, even though subconsciously, I think that’s what I’m trying to do.
I’ve never met a woman like her, independent, headstrong, vivacious, intelligent, and selfless—you have to be selfless to agree to listen to other people’s problems and help them through them. I wouldn’t last one day listening to other people bitch and moan about how their lives are unfair.
Life fucking sucks sometimes. It doesn’t work out the way we think it will, but there’s no time to sit there and fucking wallow. You have no choice but to stand up, dust off your hands and knees, and move on.
It’s what I did, and look at me—I’m doing just fine.
Okay, Ethan…keep telling yourself that.
“Yeah, he’s a bad kid, Daddy. He’s mean to all the girls too,” Oliver says, pulling me back to the conversation.
“Well, don’t ever let me hear that you’re acting like Brayden, Oliver, or you’ll be grounded forever.”
“What’s grounded mean, Daddy?”
I blow out a breath. “Nothing good.”
Ten seconds later, I’m pulling into my mother’s driveway and shifting my car into park.
“Grandma said we’re going to make blueberry muffins for breakfast today,” Oliver declares as he unbuckles his seatbelt and races from the car.
“Sounds good.” I follow him inside and find him already in the kitchen with my mother. “Morning, Mom.”
She kisses me on the cheek, patting it for good measure. “Good morning. How was your weekend?”
“It was good. Watched some movies, played with some Legos, practiced soccer a bit.”
“How was your first practice, my boy?” she asks my kid.
“I scored a goal, Grandma! My coach said I’m a natural.”
We share a laugh. “He definitely has a knack for it, so we’ll see how things progress as the season moves along.”
“Good. I promise to be at all of your games so I can cheer you on.”
“Yay! Is it time to bake muffins now?”
“Yes, sir.” She reaches for his chef’s hat like the one he has at home, placing it gently on his head. “Tell Daddy goodbye so we can get to work.”
He spins around and runs into my legs, squeezing his tiny arms around them. “Bye, Daddy. Go make money and pay bills.”
His standard parting words always make me laugh. “I will, bud. Love you.” I press a kiss to the top of his head, ruffling his hair.
“Love you too, Daddy.”
“See you this afternoon, Mom.” I give her a kiss as well on the cheek.
“Have a good day, Ethan. Tell Amelia we said hello,” she says with a wink.
“Yes! Tell Amelia I said hi, and don’t forget about the picture of her gnomes, Daddy!” Oliver calls after me as I walk through the door and back to my car.
Hopefully, I can snap a picture on the way in and not draw any attention to myself until I’m ready to apologize for the second time to this woman. Fuck, I think I have a complex when it comes to her about being wrong—and she’s one of the only people I’ve ever apologized to for it.
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