Page 47 of The Baby-whisperer and the Brute
Putting the girls to bed was always an adventure.
Usually Sully and I divided and conquered, but since he was still out at the charity ball, I let Skyla and Claire share a bath then read them a story at the same time before tucking them each in individually.
Claire, who seemed pretty tired, protested only minimally before dropping off to sleep with one thumb in her mouth and the other hand clutching mine.
Skyla was more challenging. She never wanted to miss anything and begged me to let her stay up until her daddy returned.
“Now that I’m five, I can stay awake later.”
“Yes, but it will beverylate when he comes home tonight. Way past your bedtime. If I let you stay up, you’ll be cranky tomorrow and too tired to jump around with your friends at the trampoline park.”
“I’m never tired,” she argued before her mouth stretched wide in a yawn.
“Still, it’s time for bed. No more stalling.”
I kissed her forehead then walked to the door, pausing with my hand on the light switch.
“Angelina?”
“Yes Skyla?”
“How do you spell ‘stalling?’”
A snort of laughter escaped me. “We’ll spell it out tomorrow if you still want to know. Goodnight little skylark.”
I flicked off the light but before I shut the door, I heard her voice again.
“Angelina?”
Expecting another stalling tactic, I took a deep breath then said, “Yes?”
“I love you.”
My heart contracted in a sweetly painful squeeze. These kids—how could Inotfall utterly in love with them?
“I love you, too, skylark,” I said honestly. “Sweet dreams.”
Feeling a little melancholy, I wandered around the house, picking up stray toys, little shoes, and a glass Sully had inadvertently left out. He was usually pretty good at cleaning up after himself. He must have been in a rush tonight to get to the party.
I wondered if he was enjoying himself. He wouldn’t be partaking of the open bar, but there was bound to be really good food there, which he’d love. Probably music and dancing.
Would he ask someone to dance? Hold her close and chat intimately as they moved around the floor? Maybe that was why he’d worn cologne tonight and styled his hair so nicely and wanted his tie to be perfect.
A burst of sizzling heat lit me up from head to toe. And just what wasthatabout?
Don’t be an idiot, Angelina.
He’d dressed up because he’d been asked to come and take fan photos with the party guests. He was doing his part to help the charity fund. The images would no doubt be posted and reposted all over social media—of course he wanted to look nice.
As far as spending time with women, he was a single man. He had every right to.
He hadn’t been, though, at least that I was aware of. Other than the occasional night out at a sports bar with Wilder Lowe, Sully spent his evenings at home.
Athishome, not yours.It seemed important to make that distinction.
No matter how cozy it felt at times, I needed to remember I was a guest here, an outsider. An employee. And he was my boss.
Nothing more.
