Page 28 of Fourteen Years

“I just need to hear about the bitches’ father. The comings and goings. Keep trying. Or maybe I send one of the other guys to find her when she’s alone? Do the job for you?” I shook a baggie, closing it, before leaning over the table and glaring up at him.

“I bet Chuck or Mike would like a job. A young thing like that-“

“I’ve got this!” He practically shouted. “Don’t get them involved.”

Too easy.

“Keep in line then.” I grunted, watching him nod and slam out of the trailer.

I cut another line with shaky hands and bent to snort it myself.

Ahh. Clarity.

Chapter 16

Here I was. A grown woman, avoiding knocking on the apartment door in front of me.

I felt like my stomach was going to do a complete somersault inside of me at the prospect of a dinner and movie night at my boyfriend’s apartment. A night free of the kids. Boyfriend? Was that too base of a term for what we were? Ex-spouse? How many people dated their ex-spouses?

I snorted softly at myself, glancing down at my baggy t-shirt and leggings. Maybe I should’ve dressed up? I had left my hair down. I touched my brunette strands where they stopped just past my shoulder nervously.

It's not like it would be our first time together if we had sex tonight. But, it had been over fifteen years since we’d been together sexually. I’d been married for fourteen of those. Happily. I’d had an entire baby since then. I’d put on fifteen or twenty pounds too.

I looked up at the ceiling, drawing on my usual courage, pushing my glasses up.

“Mon?”

I jolted, looking back at the now open door where Trevor stood, blonde hair falling into his eyes slightly, relieved to see him in his usual gray sweatpants and a black tank top. He rested one hand on the upper door frame, leaning towards me slightly. The position showed off his muscles and tattoos gloriously.

Holy hell.

“Are you having a stroke?” he asked, jokingly. “You’ve been standing out here for fifteen minutes.

“Shut up.” I said, snapping out of it and walking past him and into the apartment with more bravado than I currently felt. I heard the door shut and the click of the lock behind me. Drawing in a deep breath, I dropped my tote bag onto the recliner, and turned to face him.

“What on earth smells this amazing?” I asked, staring at him. “Did you order out?”

“No. I cooked,” he returned, walking into the kitchen and checking a couple of pots on the stove.

I stared at his back, dumbfounded.

“You cooked?” I repeated. “And the apartment building isn’t on fire?”

He laughed while I giggled.

The Trevor I’d known when we were dating, and married, hadn’t been able to fix a frozen pizza without something going wrong.

“Yep,” he let the sound of the “p” pop as he turned to let his eyes run over my body casually. “One of the many things I learned to do in rehab and on fire shifts,” he said. “Plus I wanted to learn to cook for when I had Lacey.” he shrugged, crossing his arms.

My stomach did a little swoosh and I felt myself melting a little bit. Something about men and their children did that to me.

I walked over to stand beside him, lifting the lid curiously, as he watched me with a small smile.

“Herbed chicken and rice pilaf?” I exclaimed. “Are you trying to feed me all of my favorite things?” I laughed, looking up at him.

His green eyes softened as they met mine.

“I want to do all your favorite things, always,” he answered smoothly.

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