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“Do you mind keeping an eye on them while I shower?”
“Sure,” I tell her. “But I’m here to help. Please never hesitate to ask.”
She doesn’t look very impressed with my offer, but since I made it because I mean it, I let it go. I’m not the type to say call me if you need me then ignore the call when someone’s name pops up on my screen.
“Can you read us another story?” Luca asks from his spot on the bed.
I smile, surprised they want to be read to from my phone rather than watch something on television until it’s lights out time.
“I can,” I say, kicking off my boots. “But you’ll have to scoot over.”
I pick Sutton up out of the crib, giving the boys time to make room by squeezing in closer, before dropping down to sit with my back against the headboard.
Sutton ends up sitting near my hip, forcing the boys even closer together to give her room.
“Any requests?”
“I liked the one from last night,” Jace says, his brother quickly agreeing with him.
I pull up the books app on the phone and start reading.
Chapter 20
Mila
There hasn’t been much in life these days that has had the ability to make me smile, but I couldn’t pull the grin from my face at the sight of Vincent and the kids if I tried.
My shower was slow. I spent much of it with my head against the wall, allowing the water to pound down my back. I’d never complain to him because I’m not the one driving, but my back is killing me from these long hours in the vehicle. I’m used to being on my feet all day at the salon which comes with a different set of aches and pains.
As quietly as I can, I pull my cell phone from my purse and snap a few pictures. The kids are asleep in the bed with Vincent, the boys to the left of him, and Sutton is curled up on his chest. Vincent’s hand is on her back, protecting her from falling if she tries to move.
The man is passed out, no doubt exhausted not only from driving but wrangling kids. Being a parent is both rewarding and one of the toughest jobs I can imagine, and he’s been thrust into it. Even as willing as he says he is, it still takes a toll.
Our daughter has never had what he’s capable of providing, and although I never stood up and reached out to him, I know I’ve deprived her of something special. I have to wonder how she’ll feel about what I did when she’s older. Will her not being able to remember the time she lost make it easier? Will she hate me? Will her opinion be based solely on his opinion?
I set my phone on the bedside table, trying my best not to get lost in my own emotions, and reach for her.
His hand snaps out immediately, grabbing my arm before I can pull her from his chest. He loosens his grip in less than a second, but instead of pulling his hand away completely, he uses his deft fingers to brush a damp strand of hair from my cheek. My throat works on a swallow, because it feels incredibly intimate with me bending down close to him.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
“For what?” I manage, confused because my brain is having a hard time staying online right now.
“Grabbing you.”
I chew the inside of my cheek for the briefest of seconds before I respond.
“You’ve held my wrists harder than that before.”
My declaration makes his eyes drop to my mouth. In a different world, one that didn’t include three kids in the same room, I could see this evening going much differently than I know it will. There was a shift in the way Vincent saw me that crazy night three years ago.
I saw the flash of attraction the second he walked into Carlen’s house after Mr. Clarke’s funeral. I could tell he fought against it, had a hard time believing the woman in front of him was Janet’s kid sister, the same one who tried to interject herself into everything she could. I was relentless, and in my mind, I was subtle in my flirting. Looking back, I know I was far from it, but he always handled those situations with grace and respect.
After the change, after the way he cut his eyes at me when no one else was paying attention, the very last thing I wanted from him was respect. I needed his hands on me, his mouth tasting my skin. I needed to know what his tongue felt like against mine, how it felt licking at my racing pulse point.
I got my wish, and I got Sutton out of that night. Even if the sex was bad, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. As hard as being a single mother has been, she’s worth every bump and bruise along the way. I’d do anything for that little girl. It’s why my argument was minimal when he demanded I leave Missouri and go with him to New Mexico.
“I was going to put her in the crib,” I say, trying my best not to lean into the thumb he’s moving gently back and forth on my cheek.
