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I clap him on the shoulder. “She’s lucky to have a dad like you.”
“Well, thanks. I hope so,” he says. “I did my best to love her with every piece of my heart. I know you do the same with Sarah Beth. But hug her tight and treasure every memory, even the hard ones. They aren’t lying when they say it goes by like a flash. Before you know it, she’ll be off to college, too.”
I shudder and hold up a hand. “Don’t say that. Even after a twenty-minute tantrum about being forced to eat lasagna, I don’t want it to go any faster. Even on hard days, she’s the best thing in my life.”
Rick smiles a knowing smile and returns my shoulder clap. “Maybe not for long.”
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t shut out happiness for no reason, Drew. You deserve someone to share your life and all the fun and hardship of raising children with.” He shrugs. “And Tatum seems like a strong young woman. If she isn’t interested, I’m sure she’ll let you know it.”
I pull in a breath and start to sputter something about not wanting to make my employee uncomfortable, but Rick cuts me off with another clap on the shoulder. “Don’t make life harder than it has to be. Believe, me, it’s hard enough on its own without any help from us. I’m off to take Duchess out for her late-night walk. If she doesn’t get to walk right before bed, she’ll whine all night and keep the whole family awake. The things we do for love!”
“The things we do for love,” I agree.
I watch him push through the door, my pulse picking up.
I’m about to head upstairs and knock on Tatum’s door, ask if we can talk more about what a possible relationship might look like, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see a text from Melissa—Sarah Beth is yawning big time. Should I put her down here? Or will you be back to get her by nine?
I glance at the time. It’s already eight-forty-five.
Shit. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t have time for romantic gestures, and I can’t afford to alienate my nanny. I need Tatum to show up at work tomorrow. I don’t have anyone else lined up to take care of my daughter, and Sarah Beth comes first.
I’ll be there in ten minutes, thanks, Mel. I text back.
Then I put my cell in my pocket and leave without looking back. Rick’s right, I would love someone to share the joys and hardships of parenting with, but I’ve been through five babysitters and none of them clicked with Sarah Beth. What she has with Tatum is precious and I have to protect that at all costs.
Even if that means protecting it from myself.
Chapter Thirteen
TATUM
I watch Drew leave the restaurant, hurrying to his car without so much as a glance over his shoulder and tell myself it’s for the best. That’s why I left when I did, after all. Because I couldn’t stop touching Drew inappropriately or be trusted not to make a fool of myself in front of him and his work friends.
I should be glad he’s leaving without a shred of hesitation.
I shouldn’t even be at this window to see him go!
I should be in bed with the book I checked out at the library earlier today on the history of butts. It’s definitely not kid friendly, but Sarah Beth was so fascinated by it—and giggly over the fact that someone wrote a three-hundred-page book on the history of booties—that I felt obligated to do this deep dive for both of us. She’s counting on me to tell her when our species developed butts, why they’re smooshy, and what this means about humanity as a whole.
I can’t let her, or myself down by standing here, moping and wishing things with her dad were different.
Determined to put my boss out of my mind and concentrate on expanding my knowledge of human evolution, I crawl into bed and snuggle under the covers. But like the glutton for punishment that I am, the more I read about other people’s booties, the more I think about the way Drew squeezed my butt. Those thoughts lead to even naughtier thoughts and pretty soon my hand is slipping down the front of my pajama pants.
I come in seconds, sent tumbling over the edge by Pretend Drew’s voice in my ear, telling me how much he loves to fuck me, but I do my best not to enjoy it.
The only thing worse than guiltily masturbating to thoughts of my boss would doing it with a clear conscience.
The next morning, I awake from a dream that Drew, Sarah Beth, and I are living in a giant Peach—a result of reading James and the Giant Peach to Sarah yesterday and all my research on butts—and am forced to face facts.
