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Now, I only had a gnawing edge of guilt over not being able to do absolutely everything for my daughter. Marina was a godsend and kept me sane. In her sixties, she was like a second grandma to Nellie. She lived in the in-law suite on my first floor and helped out when I needed her but kept to herself when she was off the clock. It was the perfect setup.
Convinced I wasn’t going back to sleep, Nellie went out to play with her nanny, and I hopped in the shower to get ready for work.
As the just-short-of-scalding water slid over my skin, I let my head fall back. Flashes of my dream played out behind my eyelids.
Funny I’d dreamed of being on the back of someone’s bike when I had never ridden with anyone but my father—and that had ended the moment I’d become old enough to drive myself. But since Jake had been the driver, the dream had probably had little to do with motorcycles.
I pressed against my collarbone. It was no longer tender. The bruise he’d left there a week ago had healed and faded. The ones on my thighs and rug burns on my elbows and knees had too, as if my interlude had never happened. Except…when I crossed my legs a certain way, I could still feel the ghost of him driving into me.
I didn’t date or have casual encounters with men. Jake was the one indulgence I’d allowed myself since my marriage fell apart three years ago. He was exactly what I needed right now. No strings, no complications, nothing personal, just crazy, intense sex. I couldn’t say if it would happen again or when, but I had plenty of memories to get me through lonely nights.
Chuffing, I shook my head. Enough of this.
It was too early in the morning to be thinking about the sex I wasn’t having. Jumping out of the shower, I dried myself, then wrapped a towel around my chest. My routine was almost muscle memory now, so it took me no time to blow-dry my shoulder-length bob and flat iron the wave out.
Over my years of working in an office, I’d honed my style. Dresses were easier since they were one piece and I rarely had to fuss with them. I slipped on one of my favorites, a burgundy, high-necked, short-sleeved sheath with a built-in belt.
My reflection didn’t quite match what was in my head. Since having Nellie, I had bountiful curves where I’d once been relatively straight. Then again, pre-motherhood, I’d spent hours in the gym with my ex, doing everything in my power to retain his physical ideal: small and tight. Given my Italian heritage and love of carbs, I’d been working against nature. But I’d loved him, so I’d considered all the work I’d put in to whittle myself down to the slightest version part of being a good wife.
Pffft.
If he’d been making the same effort to keep me happy, I’d have had more to show than ten years of lies and a very public divorce.
I smoothed my hands over my rounded hips and the slope of my stomach that seemed to be here to stay. I was trying really hard to love myself in this shape.
The added pounds certainly hadn’t deterred Jake.
I met my eyes in the mirror and whispered sternly, “Not that it matters what a man thinks.”
I knew better than to base my self-esteem on a man’s good opinion, which could be rescinded at any moment. What I thought was paramount—and that was…a work in progress.
Today, I felt good, though. Whether it was a leftover boost from my wild night with Jake or the dress that fit me like a glove, I wasn’t sure, but I’d take it. It meant my appearance would fade to the back of my mind where it belonged. My days were far too full to be distracted by the size of my thighs.
The bathroom door cracked open, and Nellie’s head peeked through.
“Oooh.” She pushed the door open wide. “Mommy, I like this.”
“You do?” I took her hands before she could paw at me. While she was dressed and appeared shiny and clean, one never knew what could be lurking on a three-year-old’s hands. “What do you like about it?”
Her brown eyes flared. “The color, and…” she guided our joined hands to my thigh where her index finger poked the fabric, “the bumps. The bumps are nice.”
“That’s called slub weave. I love how it feels too.” I let go of her hand to tug her braid. “I love your hair, Nell-Belle. Marina is so talented.”
And thank god for it. If Nellie’s hair were left up to me, she’d have a lopsided ponytail every day.
She patted her head. “It’s beautiful, right, Mommy?”
I bent down to kiss her forehead. “Yes, my love. Everything about you is.”
My workdays were scheduled to the second. This was by design. When I was in the office and away from Nellie, I did not want to waste any precious time. Every day, I dropped her at the company day care ten floors down and hit the ground running.
This was why my brother’s random visits annoyed me. Luca often wandered in, checking out the books on my shelves and view from my windows, taking his sweet time getting to the point of his appearance.
As CEO of our family’s motorcycle company, Rossi Motors, he could do what he wanted. As my younger brother, he most often wanted to bug me.
When he folded his long limbs into the chair opposite my desk, I paused reading a manufacturing report to give him my attention.
“Good morning.” He rested his ankle on the opposite knee, the picture of relaxation.
