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“Well, get it over with,” I said, ready to listen to a rant she’d probably rehearsed and an execution I’d seen her use multiple times on others.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a long pause, surprising me with her words. “Not because I forced you to open the door and not because Natasha left, but I am sorry you were hurt by her. I’m sorry Oliver has such a crap mother, and I’m especially sorry that I didn’t kick her ass out when she ignored my calls to plan his birthday party.”
“Don’t go there, Julia,” I warned. I put Oliver down, and he went straight to Katherine. She took his hand and led him from the room.
Julia placed her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “I am going there so that you remember what she was really like. She wasn’t sweet and loving, Logan. Maybe at one time to you—I never saw it, but you fell for her, so she had to have done something right. I only saw a bitch that pushed your buttons and spent more time with her friends than her own child.”
“Watch your mouth!”
“No! Where did you go? You just took Oliver and disappeared. We missed his birthday, and were all worried sick. Five weeks, Logan! Really? So tell me where you went.”
“I needed time. You wouldn’t understand, and frankly, it’s not your business. I called Mom before I left; she knew exactly where I was.”
“What?” Her brows puckered with confusion. “That explains why she wouldn’t call the police,” she grumbled.
I stood there, watching her. There was nothing else to tell her—my mother was the first and only person I’d talked to that night after I’d dismissed the staff and realized I needed to be nothing but a father for a few weeks. I wasn’t ready to dive back into work just yet.
Julia sighed, her shoulders slacking. She stepped closer and placed her hand on my arm. “Promise me you won’t leave again. I was worried…scared. Oliver and you deserve better than Natasha, but now that she’s gone and you’re back, what’s your plan?”
“We’ll manage just fine.”
“Not without help.”
What did she know? She was fifteen, for Christ’s sake. I pinched the bridge of my nose, not ready to tackle the next steps right then. There’d be no more nannies in my house, but I’d been at a loss at what to do without one. It was what had kept me up most nights at the lake.
I tugged my arm away. “I’ll work it out. I’m not hiring a nanny.”
“Good, you don’t need one. You need family.”
“She’s right,” Katherine spoke up.
I turned to see her standing in the doorway, reaching down for a bucket of blocks. “Sorry to interrupt. I was just gonna grab a few toys, but I want you to know I’d love to help in any way I can.” She rubbed her free hand over her stomach. “I don’t plan on returning to work after Charlie’s born. I’d be more than happy to watch Oliver during the day for you.”
My gaze dropped to the floor. I was surprised by the offer. I’d missed too much time at the office as it was, but the thought of leaving Oliver even with Katherine, whom I trusted just as much as if not more than Julia, was still hard.
“What other choice do you have?” Julia asked. “Daycare?”
“I need time to think it over.”
“What is there to think about? Let her help. Mom also said she’d watch Oliver on some weekends.”
“I don’t work weekends,” I cut in, my aggravation climbing.
I turned back to Katherine as she spoke. “We can start off with a trial period. If you’re not comfortable with me watching him, then you can take him to someone else.”
Of course I was comfortable with the idea of her, it was just…I didn’t know how to let him go. But before I could overthink it, I agreed.
“All right, if you truly don’t mind.” It was the best option I had. “It would mean a lot to have him with you. Have you discussed it with Lawrence?”
She nodded. “He’s the one who suggested it, and I thought it was a great idea.”
“I insist you let me pay you.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“I’m paying you. You’ll have a new baby soon, and with Oliver there nine hours a day, you’ll deserve it. I won’t take no for an answer, but you have to promise me one thing: If the arrangement becomes a burden on you, you’ll let me know. I’ll understand.”
She smiled, visibly relieved. “I will, I promise.”
I felt the relief myself. “Good. Now if you don’t mind, Oliver and I were about to have dinner…” I looked to Julia and her victorious grin. “…alone.”
Chapter 1
Two and a Half Years Later
Alarmed
I woke with a start, one eye peeking open, and then the other. The morning sun was higher than I’d expected to see it. It was Sunday, which meant—
Shit!
With an apprehensive frown, I ripped the blanket away and rolled on my side.
The brunette snoring beside me looked as exhausted as I felt. I scrubbed my hands down my face, sobering. I was able to better make her out, noticing her mouth hanging open, hair knotted around her slender frame, limbs stretched out. My memory was still firing up, but what little I remembered was a night like all the rest: lackluster.
I glanced over to where my side table should’ve sat and shook my head, unable to resist a small smile. The table was on its side, my alarm clock wedged under it.
Maybe the night had been a bit more than lackluster after all.
As my gaze wandered around the room, my smile curved up into a wicked grin. The woman had stamina—I remembered that, as well as the crazed lust in her eyes when I’d told her I was taking her home. She was up for anything, and I’d made sure to reap the full benefits of it.
My gears began revving and my dick swelled, interested in going one last round before I showed her the door. But that thought faded the instant I stretched down for the alarm clock and checked the time: 10:08.
“Fuck me!” I muttered, bolting upright and jumping out of bed.
Oliver would be home within the next hour—two, tops. I ran my hands through my hair, shaking my head, and slipped on the pair of white lounge pants flung over my favorite chair in the corner. I’d bought it purposely for the bedroom, and it saw more action than the bed.
I slipped on the pants and moved back to the bed. “Time to go,” I said, standing over the woman and nudging her shoulder lightly. Of course she had to be a heavy sleeper. I shook her again, then moved her hair to the side to get a better view of her face. She was pretty enough, but nothing extraordinary.
How she looked didn’t matter the morning after, anyway. All I cared about was making sure Oliver didn’t come home to find a stranger hanging around—especially one with just-fucked hair and dark makeup smeared down her face.
I’d never let that happen. Whenever I brought a woman home, I already had a strategic plan in place: Every other weekend, Oliver stayed with my mother, and I was able to pull an all-nighter with a woman or two. I lost myself in time—no worries or pressure.
It was the duty of my trusted alarm to be there first thing Sunday morning to wake me before sunrise. I would clear the house of women and liquor, and always be standing tall at the door to welcome my boy home. Obviously, that plan wasn’t working so far today.
