Page 77 of Only Mine
It’s unsettling to see my own defense mechanism reflected back at me.
She takes a breath. “Because we both know what last night was.”
“It’s just breakfast, Wrenley. Not a marriage proposal.”
She flinches at my tone, and I hate myself for it. But this is easier than whatever the fuck happened to me last night. Easier than admitting I watched her sleep for an hour before forcing myself to leave.
“Fine.” She moves to the counter but doesn’t sit. “Erin starts tomorrow.”
“I’m aware.”
“So this...” She gestures back and forth between us. “It doesn’t change anything.”
I set the bowl down with too much force. “I remember what I said.”
“Do you?”
“Crystal clear. You needed to get it out of your system. Mission accomplished.”
Her sharp intake of breath tells me I’ve hit the mark. Good. Better to be the asshole than the pathetic fuck who almost begged her to stay ten seconds ago.
“Papa?” Ivy’s voice drifts down the stairs.
“Go,” I say without looking at Wrenley. “Out the back.”
For once, she doesn’t argue. The door clicks shut just as Ivy’s footsteps hit the kitchen tiles.
“Morning, baby.”
“Are you making French toast?” She climbs onto her stool, then looks around. “Where’s Miss Wrenley?”
“Not here.”
“But she always?—”
“Not today, Ivy.”
My daughter studies me with those eyes that see too much. “You’re using your mad voice.”
“I’m not mad.”
“Yes you are. You’re whisking angry.”
I look down at the bowl, realizing I’ve been attacking the batter like it personally offended me.
“I’m not mad,” I repeat, forcing myself to slow down.
“Did you and Miss Wrenley have a fight?”
“No.”
Yes. Maybe. I don’t fucking know what that was.
“Then why’d she leave without breakfast?” Ivy’s voice gets smaller. “Is it ‘cause Miss Erin is coming tomorrow?”
I plate the French toast with mechanical care. “Eat your breakfast.”
“I don’t want Miss Erin.”
