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“Go wash up, Layla,” Harper told my daughter.
“You too,” Matty prompted in my direction.
Nodding, I slid off the chair and wandered around to the sink.
“Not here,” she scolded stepping in front of it. “I prepare food here,” she reminded me.
Shaking my head, I turned and wandered out of the kitchen and down the hall to the first available bathroom, washed my hands, checked out my red-rimmed eyes, and returned to the kitchen.
Harper placed a huge platter of cheesy garlic bread—Layla’s favorite—at the center of the table and sat down. Matty followed suit with deep dishes full of her amazing meatballs and lightly buttered spaghetti. Turning back, she placed a large bowl of grated Parmesan cheese near my setting and stood back wiping her hands.
“There, I’m done for the day. Cole, I’ll see you in the morning. I hope everyone has a great night.” We all called out our goodbyes as Matty left and turned our attention to our food.
“Delicious,” Harper groaned, slumping back and sliding down her chair; her hand over her stomach, she looked totally sated from the taste of her food.
“Yum,” Layla agreed, her clothes splattered in Bolognese sauce with a face to match, “I’m stuffed.”
When Harper was finished she stood up from the table, pulled Layla’s chair out, and helped her to her feet. Lifting her sweater over her head, I noted the tiny sparks of electricity as her hair made static electricity from the wool.
“Yikes,” Layla commented and laughed as her hair crackled for a few seconds before she quickly smoothed it down.
“Bath time,” Harper informed her, “I’ll go start it, Honey. Don’t forget to come up before the water gets cold,” she added. Without looking at me, she left the room and Layla came around the table and climbed up on my knee.
Placing her hands on my face like she always did when she had something serious to say, I waited patiently for her to let me know what was on her mind.
“You won’t forget me when you go to work tomorrow will you, Daddy?”
Her words crushed me. “Baby, look at you. I could never forget you, not even if I wanted to. You’re so precious, you know that?”
“Mm-hm,” she muttered, not totally convinced.
“Baby, it’s three weeks. Twenty-one sleeps. Now I know you can count to twenty-five, because we did that leading up to Santa’s visit, right?” She nodded. “So, you can count the sleeps down until I get back, and meanwhile I’ll Skype every day.” I watched her consider my reply in the intelligent little way she had, and she nodded again.
“Okay, I won’t be sad because I’ll still see you every day and you came back last time, so I know you’ll come back.” My heart squeezed again at how grown-up she was attempting to be about me leaving.
“Baby,” I said, taking her tiny hand and placing it over my heart, “You feel my heart beating?” She nodded. “Every single beat in here has your name on it. Every single pause in between is your smile. I’ll be back before you know it, and we’ll do something fun together, okay?”
Nodding again, she squeezed my cheeks together, pursing my lips, and she rapidly peppered a bunch of small kisses over them. She kept on doing it and I had no idea what was going on in her head. Eventually she stopped. “I lost count, but I think there’s enough there to last until you come home,” she informed me, and I realized the significance of what she had done.
Feeling my throat close, I knew I had to move before I broke down and cried again, so I set her down on her feet and began running toward the stairs with her. “Thank you. Now we need to move before we both get into trouble with Harper for letting the bath get cold.”
With Layla in bed, I packed the last few things I intended on taking with me and stowed them neatly in Stuart’s car. He had left it open outside the house, ready for me to load, and was driving me to the airport to meet the guys at the private airplane. I closed the trunk, went straight back inside, and up to my bedroom.
Stripping off my clothes, I took a hot shower, dried myself off and lay naked on my bed. Even though it was a bitterly cold February night outside, my bedroom felt stiflingly hot. I flipped through the TV channels on my remote and lay back to watch a biographical documentary on David Bowie to distract myself from darker thoughts. It must have worked because I don’t remember falling asleep.
My TV timing out woke me up. The room was in darkness, but somehow, I knew I wasn’t alone. My bedroom door was ajar and there was a distant light somewhere down the hall. “Layla, is that you, Baby?” I asked shifting onto my side and pulling the comforter over the lower half of my body.
“It’s me,” Harper mumbled in a low tone.
“Harper? What are you doing in here? What’s wrong?” Shifting up onto my elbows, I tried to focus in the dark.
“Nothing,” she sighed, “No, that’s a lie, everything. I’m sorry. I heard the TV from outside and I knocked, but when I opened the door, it switched off. I thought you did it when you saw me come in.”
“No, I was asleep, it timed out. What can I do for you?”
Harper chuckled in the dark, “You can’t say stuff like that, Cole.” I got the double entendre as soon as she said this and my dick bounced with interest against my leg. The flirty sound of her voice tugged at an invisible cord inside of me, sending sparks of possibility I was tired of fighting.
“Why are you here?” I asked, trying carefully to keep any encouragement from my voice.
