Page 63 of Living at 40

Can this be real? It’s my same thought.

“I want to date you, too.” I lean forward for a kiss, but she pulls back too quickly to make it anything more than a soft peck.

“I will not distract you from Lorna, though. We need to be cognizant of her. She has a lot going on.”

I nod to agree, nearly loving this woman for her concern for my daughter. I hear what she’s saying, but I’m also feeling strangely like Chloe—a little selfish. How is it fair that my ex gets to date? She wants to move to France, and I can’t even figure out when to see Autumn again.

“We’ll work it out,” I state as I said earlier. Leaning forward, I capture her lips as I didn’t like the too-quick kiss or the way she pulled away from me. Our mouths meet and slowly move together. Tongues twirl. Teeth nip. She grips my jaw, and my fingers wrap around the back of her neck. We’re both hungry for more when we can’t go much further than heavy petting tonight.

God, I want this woman. It’s only been three days since I last saw her, and I’m desperate for more. This feeling of wanting her so much is near dizzying, and the fact she wants me in return is mind-blowing. I’ll never have enough of her, and it’s more than diving into her body. I want her smile. I want her heart. I want us.

We must make this work.

+ + +

In the middle of the night, I get a call from Lorna, sobbing into the phone.

“What’s wrong, honey?” With Autumn tucked next to me, I’m groggy with sleep. I shift in order to concentrate on my daughter, and Autumn rolls toward me.

“Don’t make me go, Dad. Please. I don’t want to go to France. I know it will be awful in middle school, but I promise I won’t complain. I won’t be upset about anything, just don’t make me move somewhere where I don’t know the language and won’t like the food.”

“Calm down, baby,” I say, trying to get a grip on my bearings. Scrubbing a hand down my face, I eventually roll from the bed and stand. “No one is going to make you go anywhere you don’t want to go.”

While my daughter might have been apprehensive about middle school, she’d rather face the torture of it than travel halfway around the world. And while France is as civilized as they come and full of food she’d grow to love, as well as a language I’m certain she’d master, I understand her apprehension.

“Dad, please let me live with you.” Her plea breaks my heart.

“You know I want that, right?” My constant concern since Chloe told me her plan is that she hasn’t been totally forthright with our daughter, and the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. “I told Mom you could live with me.”

Another sob has my heart ripping in two.

“Lorna, did Mom say something differently?”

“She just keeps telling me I have to go with her. It will be an adventure, but I don’t want an adventure. If I wanted to move somewhere, it would be Lakeside.”

“Oh, baby,” I whisper, knowing it can’t be this difficult or this easy. If Lorna was on board to move, I just might be persuaded to race back to Lakeside. Does Mason still want to open a business together?

Spinning in a half-circle, I face my bed where a sleepy Autumn is watching me. I adore this woman, and I want everything with her. Would it be ridiculous to give up a good job with the firm? Could I uproot my entire life? My thoughts race to Ben and his situation. He just wants to be happy in his final days. He wants to live where he wants to live, love who he loves, and slow down a bit. Would any of that be wrong?

“Honey, nothing’s going to happen tonight. Mom and I need to talk, and we will. Tonight, you need to calm down and go to bed.” What is she even doing up this late?

“But Dad—”

“No, but Dad. You aren’t going to France, and I’ll be speaking with Mom tomorrow.” My voice hardens. I don’t understand how Chloe can do this to us. We might not be a couple, but we had an agreement. We’d parent together. We’d make choices for our daughter together. We’d been agreeable so far in our arrangement, but this is too much. I am not backing down.

“Fine,” Lorna moans, and the hint of impending teenage years creeps closer.

“I love you, baby,” I say to her, watching Autumn watch me.

“Love you, too, Dad.” With that, my daughter hangs up, and I stare down at Autumn.

“Lorna, right?” She slowly smiles in the dim light of my room. Streetlamps cast a glow through the blinds.

Softly, I chuckle. “Yeah.”

“You’re so sweet when you tell her you love her.” Her voice softens, and I collapse back to the bed, sitting on the edge.

“I don’t toss those words out lightly,” I tell her, brushing a hand down her arm. “My daughter is the love of my life.”