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I stand out in the hallway for a long moment before I curse under my breath and knock lightly on her door.
“Come in,” she calls, and she’s standing in front of the bed, biting her lip.
“The guy you saw last night,” I start, not sure where I’m even going with this. “Is he going to be around a lot?”
“Why do you ask?”
Her face is blank. I can’t read her, not like I read the clients that I’m talking into parting with hundreds of thousands of dollars for marketing campaigns.
I can’t tell her the real reason that I’m asking. I can’t tell her that it’s driving me crazy, every moment I think about what might have happened, every moment I imagine someone else’s hands on her.
“Just curious,” I mumble. “I just like to know the type of people that might be hanging around here.”
“No other reason?” she asks, taking another step toward me.
Fuck, she smells so good. She’s so pretty, looking at me with those wide, almost innocent eyes. I’m such a dirty old man.
“What other reason would there be?”
Kenna bites her lip and I want to groan, want to pull her into my arms and pop that pouty bottom lip from between her teeth.
“I won’t bring him around the kids,” is all she says, and I want to pull my hair out.
“So, you’ll be meeting him somewhere else?”
Kenna stiffens her shoulders. “I’m allowed to meet whoever I want on my own time.”
“Of course you are,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair.
Jealousy is such a horrible emotion. I’ve always hated it, and I’ve never had much reason to feel that way since Suzanna left, so it feels doubly awful.
“Sorry,” I say, stepping backward out into the hall.
“If you don’t want me to see anyone else, just say so,” Kenna says firmly, something flashing in her blue eyes.
“I can’t ask that of you.”
Kenna takes another step forward, and now I’m standing in her doorway, half in the hallway and half in her room.
“You can,” she says softly, and then she wraps her arms around my neck.
“Kenna,” I breathe, and I don’t know how that sentence would have ended, don’t know if I would have kissed her, given it all up just for another taste of her, because the doorbell rings.
It startles me because I’ve been so lost in Kenna, and I clear my throat. Her face falls just as her arms do.
“Excuse me.”
I make my way downstairs, peering into the cameras and I have no idea how this person got through the gate so I’m suspicious, looking out the peephole.
It’s just a man in a suit, and I wonder if a solicitor has gotten ahold of the gate code again. I haven’t changed it since we moved here, so maybe it’s time.
I open the door.
“Derek Ledderman?” the man looks up at me, much shorter than me and balding.
“Yes?”
He hands me a manilla envelope. “You’ve been served.”
