Page 15 of Trust Me
I lean over and kiss Brooklyn’s sleepingface and get up off the floor. After returning the book to the bookshelf, I head out into the hall as Avery closes the door behind us. “Well, I’m honestly glad she didn’t ask me that. I would have had no clue what to say.”
She shrugs her head and says, “I just tell her that someday she will have the best daddy in the world. Until then, she gets to spend all her time with me.” She’s smiling again, but not the happy, full of life smile I love to see. This one’s a little sad.
She shakes it off and heads into the kitchen. “Beer?”
“Sure,” I reply. I sit down at her little kitchenette as she slides a beer in front of me. We start chatting about my work, her work, and everything else we can think of. My beer’s been empty for an hour, but I don’t care. I’m content with sitting here in her kitchen and talking with her all afternoon. We usually don’t talk too much. I usually avoid it since every time I get too close, I start to get a hard-on. And she always seems a little shy around me. But right now, in her kitchen, this is probably the most fun I’ve had talking with another person in a long time. Jake and I always talk about football or sex. And as that word creeps into my mind, I start to imagine Avery sitting onthe edge of that counter, legs wrapped firmly around my waist, while I bury myself deep inside her.
As if a gift straight from the heavens, Brooklyn chooses that moment to wake up. When Avery heads to her room to help get her up and ready for the rest of the day, I take the opportunity to think about my grandma. My coworkers swimming at the pool. Anything to help relieve the wood I’m sporting under the table.
Brooklyn comes running into the kitchen, and I realize it’s getting close to dinnertime. Avery probably wants to get something going for supper, and honestly, I’m still starving since I only ate half a PB & J sandwich and a handful of chips. I get up and start to head toward the door. Brooklyn realizes I’m probably heading out and starts to whine. “Don’t go. I want you to eat pizza wiff me,” she says, throwing her little arms around my thigh.
Avery comes into the room and tries to remove her daughter from my left leg. “Honey, Maddox is probably ready to go. He didn’t do any of the things he had planned for today. You’ll see him again very soon.”
Brooklyn starts to cry and my heart jumps in my tight chest. “But I want Maddox to eat pizzawiff me.”
Damn, I can’t handle the tears. I can take a punch straight in the face. I can take down a drugged-out teenager running from the police to avoid arrest. I can take a two-hundred-forty-pound grown man and throw him on the ground like he weighs nothing. But the sight of this three-year-old crying against my leg is my undoing. I realize at that moment I would do anything for her, including having pizza with her.
I look up at Avery, who is beside herself at Brooklyn’s behavior. I give her a lopsided grin and say, “Well, looks like I have a date with a beautiful little blonde tonight. Pizza it is.”
Avery just stands there in the middle of her living room and stares at me. After a moment, she breaks out in a shy little grin too. And I realize I would do anything for her too. Fuck. I know at this moment I’m not strong enough to walk away. All I can do is sit back and enjoy the ride. And hope Jake doesn’t find out.
Chapter 11
Avery
Maddox and Brooklyn are playing in the living room while I get the table set for the pizza. Saturday nights are usually our night to order in. On the rare occasion I want to deal with taking a toddler out, we’ll go out for dinner at a local restaurant. Originally, Holly was going to join us this evening for dinner but was asked on a date. She was vague on the phone about who she was going out with, so I can’t wait to interrogate her a little more tomorrow morning.
The doorbell rings but before I can grab my purse and head toward the front door, Maddox is standing there, pizza in hand, and handing the delivery guy some cash. “You didn’t have to do that. We invited you for dinner,” I say as he shuts and relocks the front door.
“You may have invited me, but there is no way in hell you are buying my pizza. I’m an old-fashioned guy. It ain’t happening, sweetheart,” he answers with another of those award-winning, panty-dropping grins. My lady parts tingle from his term of endearment.
He grabs my daughter on his way into the kitchen, and we all start to settle in for pizza. I cut Brooklyn’s slice up into bite-sized pieces, while Maddox throws a slice of cheese and sausage on my plate and gets two for himself. I fill up Brooklyn’s cup with apple juice and grab two beers before sitting down for dinner.
Brooklyn has already smeared pizza sauce all over her face and is trying to feed Maddox some of her pizza. He’s a good sport about it, even takes a piece straight from her messy hand and eats it like he’s never had anything better. Brooklyn laughs, which makes us both laugh too. He looks adorable with pizza sauce smeared over his bottom lip. It makes me want to lick it off.
After the entire pizza is devoured, mostly by the man sitting across from me, I start to steer Brooklyn toward the bathroom for her evening bath. Maddox is in my kitchen cleaning up our dinner remnants. I’m not used to having someone in my kitchen helping me out with the cleaning. Every time my brothers are here, they have no problem leaving the mess in the kitchen and taking over the television in the living room. I try to tell him to leave it and I will do it later, but he’s not having it. “No way. You go give Bean a bath, and I’ll wash up these dishes.”
I mumble a quiet thanks and head toward the bathroom. I turn on the water to begin filling the tub and start to strip down my messy three-year-old. Brooklyn is chucking a handful of bath toys into the tub while I take a few moments to try to catch my breath. Once I get her naked and inside the tub, she’s content with talking and playing like always. I grab a washcloth and start to lather her up. I love the smell of her baby shampoo, and I can’t help but give her head a little sniff as I rinse it clean of all the suds. Once the water is all soapy and her hands are starting to get wrinkly, I release the drain and help her out. I wrap her Disney Princesses bath towel around her wet little body and carry her into her bedroom. There, she picks out her favorite kitty cat pajamas and sits down while I brush her hair.
“Mommy, I wike Maddox. Can he stay and pway with me more?” she asks as I pick up her wet towel and throw it into the hamper.
“Well, we’ll just have to see, sweetie.” This isn’t exactly a conversation I can have with my three-year-old. While I’d love for Maddox to stay for as long as I can keep him here, I’m sure he has plans. Maybe even a date.
Brooklyn heads back out to the living room and jumps on the couch with him. She’s sitting on his lap, happily watchingSports Centerwith him. My daughter. WatchingSports Center. Go figure. I guess I should be more surprised but honestly, I’ve always wondered if she likes watching sports. Every time she comes home from hanging out with Jake or Nate, she ends up yelling at the TV and saying someone is blind as a bat to miss that call. I’m pretty sure she even used the phrase “what a shitty call” at a high school baseball game over the summer.
As the evening rolls on and night falls, my little princess starts to doze off on Maddox’s lap. I realize it’s a little past her bedtime and start to reach for her. He focuses those chocolate-brown eyes on me and says, “I’ve got her.”
We walk together back toward her bedroom, Maddox gently laying her down in bed. She barely opens her eyes as I cover up her sleepy little body with the worn princess blanket. As I lean down to give her a kiss on her forehead, she whispers, “I wove you, Mommy.”
“I love you too, sweetie.”
Just as I turn to head out, I hear, “I wove you, Maddox.” Maddox walks around me, making eye contact with those delicious chocolate eyes, and over to Brooklyn. My breath catches in my throat as he leans down to gently kiss her on the cheek. “I love you too, Bean,” he replies.
We walk together out of her bedroom and return to the living room. It’s quiet in the small confines of my tiny living room. Now what? Am I supposed to invite him to stay longer? Ask him to leave? I don’t want him to leave, but I know his Saturday night plans were not hanging out with me and my toddler. As if sensing my discomfort, he asks, “So what do you normally do after she goes to bed?”
I smile a little. “Well, this is my only time to clean up from our busy day. You’d be amazed how much damage a three-year-old can do to a small house. After I clean up, sometimes I actually get to read a little bit or watch some TV before bed.” And there it is. Now, I’m thinking about bed. Preferably with Maddox.
His chocolate eyes seem to turn even darker. It’s as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking about because he’s thinking the exact same thing.
