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It’s been so long. I decide to be honest, because staying quiet and making no moves is getting me nowhere. “I’m horny, Bren. And you need to put a damned shirt on when you’re walking around the house being a great father and provider. My Neanderthal brain kicks in wanting you.”
A chuckle rumbles low, caressing the side of my ear. “I’m sorry. I haven’t done a good job with all my responsibilities, have I?”
I shake my head. “No, Bren. That’s not it. You have. You’ve been nothing but wonderful to Addy, to me—”
“But I need to take care of you too,” he says before lifting his hand to cup my breast. “I miss your body, Sofia.”
“You do? You haven’t said...or done anything.”
“I’m too good at compartmentalizing. It’s hard for me to multitask. I’ve been so preoccupied trying to be the best father, I completely forgot I have to be the best partner too.”
I spin around so I can take in his beautiful face. “Partner?”
Bren nods. “Yes.”
“You still want that?”
“I could kill myself if I haven’t made that clear yet.”
“Oh,” is all I manage to say.
He hasn’t changed his mind. He doesn’t want just his daughter; he still wants us—both of us.
His hand travels down to the hem of my shirt, but before he can work it off me, Addy cries softly from the baby monitor I didn’t realize he’d set on the dresser. He lets his head fall until our foreheads meet and chuckles. “We should get a sitter and have a proper date soon,” he says.
“You want to date? Aren’t we doing this a bit backward? A baby before dating?”
“When have we been conventional, Sofia? All that matters is that I love you. And I hope you love me.”
“I do,” I hasten to say. “I love you,tonto.”
Then he walks out of the room, and I follow to watch that perfectly chiseled man, shirtless, as he cradles his daughter in his arms, holding her bottle for her. I take my phone out and snap a picture of this perfect scene, the moment right after he told me he loves me.
He still loves me.
Halfway through feeding Addy, Bren’s phone dings, and he answers the call. “Who was that?” I ask from my place doing dishes.
“Roger. He wants a band meeting tonight. Mind if I step out this evening?”
I laugh. “You don’t have to ask permission, Bren. God knows I won’t ask you for permission to do my thing when it comes toLa Oficina.”
Maybe that was the wrong thing to say because Bren is scowling when I look behind me.
“Right,” he says and places Addy back in her new playpen.
Bren goes off to his band meeting, and I take the opportunity to check on the bar. It’s Wednesday night, and shouldn’t be too busy. I’m delighted when it’s Ileana who picks up the phone.
“Sofia! We haven’t seen you in ages,” she says warmly.
“I know. I’m sorry. I miss you,” I say.
“Will we see you around soon?”
“I don’t know. I’d hate to putLa Oficinaunder any more public scrutiny. Tell me the truth, Ileana. David’s been vague with his responses so far. How bad is it?”
“I won’t lie to you. The press was bad that first week, but when they got the idea neither you nor Bren would be showing your faces, they died out. We get an occasional straggler here and there, but Joe handles it great.”
My shoulders relax, knowing I haven’t done any real damage. I still rely on the bar income for our living expenses. “Business reports have been great,” I say.
