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She’s gone.
I’m awake before my alarm goes off. Lying in bed, studying the ceiling. I already know she’s left the house. It feels empty without her, like she had some kind of irrepressible energy that permeated every room.
A soft knock on my bedroom door is the only warning I have before Bella hurries in and jumps on the bed. Like the rest of the house, I tried to keep my bedroom cozy and practical rather than cold and utilitarian. It was important to me that Bella feel at home and comfortable here. There are shelves of books, a television hidden in the built-in cabinets, and a comfortable reading chair in the corner. The platform bed is in the middle of the longest wall, covered in soft blankets and lots of pillows. Bella grabs one of those pillows now and hugs it to her lap.
“Dad, where’s Piper?” She sits cross legged on top of my comforter in her pink unicorn pajamas. “She’s not in her room or in the bathroom or in the kitchen. I checked.”
“Piper needed a break today,” I explain. “But she’ll be back. I promise you that.”
Because I know why Piper ran. I know about running from pain. I know about doing what it takes to survive, especially when you think you have to do it alone.
And since I have a few more years of experience than Piper, I know when it’s time to accept help. If she thinks I’m going to let her run away from me, she’s got another think coming. She’s mine. She’s ours. Mine and Bella’s.
“You need to find her, daddy. She belongs with us. You’ll never let her go, and neither will I,” Bella instructs with a serious look on her face. Then her face breaks into a huge smile. “You can make pancakes when you get her back.”
See? Even Bella knows it. I know it. Now, I need to make sure Piper knows it.
“You know a good investment when you see one, huh, pipsqueak?” I grab my daughter and tickle her until she’s squiggling and squirming with giggles, burrowing beneath the pillows to hide.
“Go get some breakfast,” I say once things have calmed down a bit. “I’ll come down in a minute.”
“Okay!” She skips out the door, her faith in me secure. I never want to disappoint her.
While I get dressed, opting for a more casual look with dark-washed jeans and a white button-up shirt, I’m already planning my strategy for getting Piper back. First, I need a babysitter. Next, I need to do anything and everything to get my woman back.
A few hours later, I’m sitting in my BMW in front of Piper’s old apartment. It’s one of those side streets that’s full of apartment complexes. Her building is three stories high with a parking lot on one side and a nice wooded area on the other, offering privacy for the rows of balconies. Her car is parked in one of the designated spots.
For a moment, I wonder if I should have brought flowers or chocolates. Just as quickly, I dismiss the idea. Piper doesn’t need stereotypical gifts. She needs someone who is going to be there for her—with her—through thick and thin. Someone strong enough to weather the storm with her and believe in her, even when she doesn’t believe in herself.
That someone is me.
I take the steps to her second-story apartment two at a time. After knocking on her door, I wait for a minute. She doesn’t answer, but I know she’s there.
“Piper.” Just her name.
She opens the door, but stands so she’s blocking the entrance. She’s wearing ripped jeans and an oversized t-shirt with her hair up in a messy bun. She looks warm and comfortable. It makes me want to tuck her into bed and tuck myself right beside her, above her, into her, or wherever.
“What do you want, Elijah?”
“Let’s talk inside.”
She sighs, but steps aside. “After last night, I thought you’d be happy to let me go.”
I enter the room and she closes the door behind me. This is the first time I’ve seen her space. There are a few halfway packed boxes—evidence of her getting ready to move in with me. But besides that, it’s colorful and cheerful. The furniture is used but clean. Plants in brightly colored pots sit in corners and mixed media artwork covers the walls. It looks like her. It looks like Piper.
It’s all I can do to stop from scooping her up in my arms--all her color and playfulness and sassiness--and kidnapping her back to my home.
“I’m not,” I respond to her statement. “I’m not happy you’re gone. And neither is Bella.”
Piper huffs, and she sounds both petulant and guilty at the same time. She goes to walk past me, but I grab her arm. She swings to stand in front of me, inches separating us from each other.
“I’m also not happy that you assumed I would give any credence to anything that uppity son of a bitch said,” I murmur while staring down at her, waiting for her reaction.
It doesn’t take long for my words to register.
“What?” she gasps with surprise, her hands landing softly on my chest. She looks up at me, her brown hair messily framing her heart-shaped face. Hazel eyes widen with surprise.
“Your ex is an idiot,” I state.
