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I just want to hang out with Sloan, nice and relaxed, no pressure of the day, no worrying beyond whether or not the popcorn needs extra butter or that disgusting cheese powder that she so adores.
“Well, you suffered through my Patrick Swayze addiction, so it feels like we ought to lean your way this time. So how ‘bout the slasher flicks?”
“You hate those,” I say.
She shrugs. “I do, but I like watching movies with you and as I sat here today watching them by myself, I realized how much I missed you. I don’t want you to end up not wanting to watch movies with me.”
Fuck me.If only she knew how bad I wanted to do just that.
Fuck marketing meetings. Fuck glove companies and sports drinks and Viv. If I could spend the rest of my life on the couch with Sloan, rubbing her feet and watching Brad Pitt take his shirt off, I’d take it in a heartbeat.
By the time the second movie is on, the day has slipped to night, and Sloan has slipped into my arms. I’m holding her, all of her, nestled against me, warm and soft.
My mind is on everything but the movie. It’s on the curve of her hip under my hand. The leg I have resting between hers. The scent of her shampoo.
And when her breathing evens out and she snores softly, I let out an exhale I’ve been holding since I woke up to Viv in my kitchen. This is the kind of life I always wanted. Someone to lie around with. Someone who could relax enough with me to fall asleep beside me. Someone who smells like flowers and sunshine to lie in my arms and watch movies.
When the movie ends, I lift her into my arms and carry her to my bed. One of these days, I’m going to make her see what I see—that this is where she belongs.Forever.
One day soon.
16
SLOAN
These days, Beck is a walking encyclopedia of things that are bad for the baby. If he lectures me on the benefits of quinoa and wheatgrass one more time, I might club him with a box of Twinkies.
What I really want is a cheeseburger and a giant piece of chocolate cake smothered in whipped cream, hot fudge, and sprinkles. My mouth is watering when I wake from my nap.
My stomach isn’t the only body system ruining my life, though. My libido also has ideas of its own.
I’m hormonal and horny and all the sleeping in Beck’s bed isn’t helping. Neither is his very determined interest in this baby. It’s endearing and overbearing and, worst of all, it makes me wonder if we could be more than co-parents.
But I brush those thoughts aside. They don’t lead anywhere realistic. I’ve lied to him over and over. I can’t take it back now. I can’t reason it away or make excuses. It’s done and undoable. Something I have to live with.
Still, it’s very weird that when I walk downstairs to the kitchen, he isn’t here. He didn’t mention plans for today.
I pick up my phone to find out where he is. If I have to give him a detailed itinerary and bring the whole damn cavalry every time I want to go check the mailbox, the very least he can do is tell me when he’s taking off on another road trip or whatever.
But as tempting as it is, I don’t text that. I’m not interested in starting a fight.
Hey! Be home soon for dinner? Or should I eat without you?
“Hey, girl.” Karla has a habit of sneaking up on me when my back is turned, but she makes snacks and hides them for me so I am the queen of forgive and forget. I very seldom tell her that I think she should wear a bell around her neck like a cat.
I turn and smile at her. “Hi. Have you seen Beck?”
Her lips purse. “He’s, uh… He’s actually out with Viv for dinner.”
“Viv?”
Karla nods. “Yeah. Viv. You know, the harpy demon bitch who claims she’s over him but can’t quite seem to stay away or retract her claws?”
“Yes, I believe we’re acquainted.” My stomach curdles.
“Hold that thought.” She ducks into one of the pantries and re-emerges a moment later with a heaven-sent gift in her hand. “Here. Eat. Enjoy.”
“Is that one of thoseFuck that bitchcupcakes I’ve heard so much about? The ones frosted with the delicious mixture ofShecan kiss my assandI hope she gets a bad case of explosive diarrhea?”
