Page 117 of Every Now and Then
So, no, I still wouldn’t do anything different.
“Sorry again about that article, baby.”
I wave my hand through the air. “It wasn’t so bad, and we knew it was bound to happen at some point. Honestly, I’m surprised weweren’t busted before the Disney trip with how often you’re out with us.”
Hayes takes the girls to soccer practice, to horseback riding lessons, to school, to the park, and to the pool. He still meets me for lunch several times a week, and we go on dates and run errands together. We live our lives, hardly curtailing our normal activities to accommodate Hayes’ celebrity status. It really is a minor miracle that no one has publicly outed our relationship before now.
"The tabloids probably won't stop at that one story," Hayes warns. "They'll keep churning up whatever dirt they can find on both of us."
"Let them. It's you and me. We're in this together, right?"
"Right."
"Then we can deal with whatever they throw at us."
Hayes rolls onto his side and lifts his hand to my cheek, stroking my skin. “I love you, Annabelle.”
“Same, Steamroller, same.”
Steamroller isn’t the perfect nickname. It doesn’t roll off my tongue with ease, but I still haven’t found the right one yet. But as Hayes often teases me, I’m atrocious at coming up with good nicknames.
Brushing his lips to mine, Hayes murmurs, “Let’s hit the hay. I’m exhausted.” He pauses with a small smile. “I think I may be too tired to fuck you tonight.”
“Blasphemy,” I whisper, cupping his package and feeling him grow in my hand as I tease him through his shorts. “If you’re too tired, let me do all the work.”
Hayes
Later
The elevator dings, and Shelby steps out as Grace and Claire race to greet her. Shelby, a college student who's back in Nashville for the summer and whose parents live in the condo building, has become our babysitter after we met her at the pool. She’s great with the girls, and it’s been convenient to have a babysitter who lives in the building.
I crouch down and say, “Girls, be good for Shelby and listen to her. Okay?”
Claire hugs my neck, promising that she’ll be good. But let’s be honest, it’s not Claire I’m worried about. It’s her older sister.
Grace shoots me a smile. Though she doesn't verbally agree to behave, the smile she gives me is her real one, not her ornery one, so I think she'll be good.
As the elevator doors are closing, Claire waves and squeals, “Bye, Dad!”
Yep, over the past few weeks, Claire has begun to call me Dad. Not all the time, but it’s been happening more and more. And it makes my heart fucking explode each time she says it. Grace still calls me Hayes, and that’s fine by me. I’m not trying to replace or erase Kyle, and I don't need the girls to call me Dad to know that they love me.
A hand squeezes my shoulder, and I turn to smile at Annabelle.
“I know I didn't come up with it, but hearing Claire call you Dad might be my favorite nickname of all.”
“It’s mine, too.” I grin and motion to the hallway. “Now, go get ready. We’ve got somewhereto be, Yankee.”
I sprawl onto the couch and turn on the television, flipping to a sports channel, but I can only find golf. Which is about as exciting as watching paint dry, in my opinion. After the pros play a few holes, I check my watch. Yep, we’re officially going to be late. I wander down the hallway and holler, “Put the pedal to the metal, woman. We needed to leave, like, five minutes ago.”
“If you’d just tell me where we’re going, I could get ready faster. But since you won’t tell me anything, I don’t know how to dress,” she complains.
Between carting the girls to and from summer camps and while Annabelle has been at work, I’ve been doing some work of my own arranging a surprise. As always, I’m a steamroller, and I may have overstepped with this one. But sometimes it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
“Wear something casual. No need to dress up,” I huff, glancing at my watch as I pace in the hallway outside our bedroom. “Seriously, Yankee. Let’s move!”
Right after our Disney trip, we got hit with a wave of press coverage. Over the past two weeks, the media hype surrounding us has calmed down, though the occasional photo of us will still pop up on the gossip sites. I know that’s why Annabelle is fretting about what to wear. She wants to be looking her best in case a paparazzo spots us.
All because of that one unflattering shot of her at the grocery store after she'd taken a hot yoga class. To me, Annabelle will always be gorgeous, but even I had to admit, that photo did her no favors.
