Page 44 of Playboy’s Purgatory

Because I wasn’t lying when I said I watched her. Just because I only saw what I wanted to see to fit the story, doesn’t mean that I’m not looking at those moments differently now.

Instead of calculation, I see care.

Instead of arrogance, I see determination.

Instead of elitism, I see strategized self-protection.

Fuck, I was a fool.

“I did,” I confirm while holding up the bags and giving a little shake. Not too much or else who knows what the egg slime will do.

Lara grabs a wad of paper towels and walks toward me, every step hesitant like she’s not sure what I’m going to do when she reaches me. I want to hook my arm around her waist and pull her closer to me.

I watch her face as she reaches up and gently wipes away the cracked egg. Some has dripped down onto my shirt, but I’m not worried about it. Still, she wipes it away.

“Sorry about the projectile sliming,” she murmurs as she cleans the last of the mess.

“I should have looked in your hand before startling you. Next time, I will, especially because you could have a knife in your hands,” my tone is part teasing and part completely serious.

“I don’t think I would have thrown a knife at you,” she says it thoughtfully, as if she’s really thinking about whether she would have or not.

“I’m not going to take the chance,” I pout a little, hoping she’ll take pity on me.

When she smiles, even if it’s smaller than before I interrupted their karaoke concert, I tuck the sight of it away. I made her smile.

It doesn’t feel like a very big win, but I know it’s a start.

“What did you get for dinner?” Vanessa asks the question as she steps closer and peers down into the bags like she’s suddenly developed x-ray vision.

“I got everyone’s regular orders,” I tell her. “Honey helped me.”

Lara looks like she’s trying to come up with any excuse to turn down the food in my hands. I can’t let it happen. Who knows when I’ll get another golden chance like this one.

“I was going to drop off your dinner and take mine home, but now I’ve been assaulted by unfertilized poultry,” I try to keep my voice innocent with an edge of grievance.

Lara isn’t buying it and she shoots me a look. Then she looks between me, with hope written on my face, and Vanessa, who is practically bouncing on her toes.

I don’t ask to stay and eat with them, but I don’t have to. The unspoken words are hanging in the space between us and we both know it.

“Fine,” Lara finally relents while rolling her eyes, “you can stay and eat.” She mumbles under her breath, “You’re both incorrigible.”

“Mama,” Vanessa exclaims and wraps her arms around Lara’s waist, “you’re the best.”

“The best,” I chime in, the perfect echo.

Lara purses her lips and makes a humming sound before motioning toward the door to access the stairwell to the apartment upstairs. “I’ll finish up the batter and make sure everything is locked up down here. Vanessa,” she looks toward her daughter in a way that holds weight, “how about you take Playboy upstairs so he can wash his face. I’ll be up in just a few minutes.”

“You got it,” Vanessa chirps.

She grabs my arm with surprising force for her age and pulls me along behind her. It’s not like she really has to pull me along; I’m not going to miss this opportunity by dragging my feet. Hell no.

The moment we step inside their apartment above the bakery, something settles in my chest. Everywhere I look there are little touches which could only be left by the ladies who have made this space into a home.

It’s not huge, but it doesn’t need to be since it’s big enough for this little family. There are pictures on the walls and drawings on the fridge. The blanket draped over the edge of the couch, which is a little big for the space but comfortable looking, looks like it would be cozy.

When the fuck have I ever thought of anything as cozy?

I think these ladies have already gotten under my skin.