Page 73 of Accidentally Sliding Into A Second Chance

I’m not ready for this conversation, and I don’t know how Cat will feel about the request.

“Daddy, are you up?” Scarlett asks in what could only be generously called a whisper. I press my lips together to keep my expression neutral.

A cold, wet nose grazes my cheek. Emmy, like Scarlett, is trying to sniff out any signs of weakness. When she hovers around my lips, I do my best to relax.

“Daddy?” Scarlett says louder, giving my shoulder a shake. I let out a soft breath and turn onto my side, the universal sign that I am indeednotup yet. But my daughter’s like a bloodhound on a scent—determined and relentless.

And Emmy, well, she is a hound, and she’s on the scent too if her small puffs of warm breath followed by insistent sniffing noises are any indication.

Between the two of them, it’s only a matter of time before they sniff out I’m faking.

The soft snapping of a door down the hallway echoes in the silence of the house, followed by determined footsteps. A feeling of hope springs through me.

“Scarlett,” Cat whispers, her velvety murmur sending flutters zipping across my chest. Not to mention relief at being rescued. “Go back to bed. It’s still dark out.”

“Cat—”

“Shhhh,” my wife chastises, and my bed bounces on both sides as Scarlett and Emmy make their way to the door.

The voices soften, followed by a gentle click as my bedroom door closes, and all three of my girls distance themselves from my room.

Scrubbing a hand up and down my face, I wait for the usual sounds of the house coming to life for the day, but pause when I don’t hear anything.

I wait, and listen. But silence is the only response. There is only one person who has been able to get Scarlett back to bed after she’s gotten up—my mom. If Cat can do that too, I’m definitely keeping her.

A tiny smile lifts the corner of my mouth and my arm covers my eyes in an attempt to get a few hours of sleep. After what feels like hours, I blow out a heavy sigh and roll to my side trying to escape the thoughts pacing restlessly in my head.

Spending time alone with Cat this past weekend has made it clear what I want, and it’s not sleeping in separate beds or being one way at home and another in public.

I want her to be my wife in every sense of the word. That means sleeping with her in my arms, next to me. Kissing her whenever I want and giving my daughter permission to call her ‘Mom’. If that’s what Cat wants, too.

I let the ‘Mom’ part sit quietly for a moment. Waiting to see if any guilt or hesitation comes up, but the only feeling I have is deep-seated calmness.

Scarlett wants it. I want it. Maybe Cat does too?

I can’t count how many times three little words almost rolled off my tongue when Cat was wrapped in my arms and close to me, but I held on to them. And I’m not sure why. Except for a feeling that something wasn’t right.

Not for me, but for Cat.

It’s okay. I’m a patient man, and can give her as much time as she needs.

Hopefully it’s not too long, because I’m a bear when I don’t get enough sleep. I make cranky Scarlett look like an angel, and my grumpy brother seem like a teddy bear.

And the truth is between this past weekend and last night, I’m running on fumes.

But despite how exhausted I am, my brain won’t stop. I push out of bed, throw on a t-shirt and a pair of joggers, and head out for a run.

Thestarsabovehavethat bright, early morning glow where they literally sparkle, and the crisp air blows past me,sending a chill down my body. I’m regretting rushing out of the house without a sweatshirt. Turning down Duncan’s street, I notice his porch light flick on. A smile creeping along my lips.

I wasn’t sure if my brother has still been keeping up with his morning run since his marriage, but he is. Lucky me.

“Duncan!” I yell, half heartedly since the world isn’t quite up yet. Picking up my pace to catch up to him I tap him on the shoulder and watch him fly off the ground. He spins to face me. His eyes round, mouth open and a fist coming my way. I duck before he can connect. Laughing, I ask, “What the heck, Dunc?”

His brows pull together and he scowls, pulling out his earbuds. “Why are you sneaking up on me?”

“I didn’t sneak up on you! I called you from down the block,” I scoff, throwing my thumb over my shoulder. Duncan is a total grump on the best of days, but first thing in the morning he’s the worst. I just remember why I stopped going on runs with him. And it’s not just because I hate running. “Do you always go to punch people?”

“When they sneak up on me, yeah,” he growls. He goes to stick his earbuds back in but stops, glaring at me. “What are you doing up this early?”

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