Page 22

Almost gray…

“Fuck. You’re right. I’ll… I’ll follow your lead on this.”

“Of course you will. And drop some cash in the swear jar. The F-bomb is a big payout for this baby girl.” I reach into my pantry and pull out a large blue mason jar, setting it on the counter. I wait. And wait. And when Eddie doesn’t reach for his wallet, I poke at the jar, moving it closer to him, and tap my fingernail against the granite.

“You’re kidding me,” he huffs, brows raised as he stares into my eyes. His huff is almost as good as his sigh.

My lips tug up on one side. “I assure you, I am not. Pay up. Evie and I might need a girl’s day to recover from the nope-rope trauma.”

Eddie looks past me, and when I follow his gaze, I see his daughter propped on her knees in front of the sofa with a dishtowel. She’s gliding it along the cushion that I will never be able to sit upon again making hissing noises like it’s one of those things.

Bless it and fuck my life, all at the same time. “You ruined her.”

Laughter rumbles behind me, low and laced with a touch of deviousness. Cunningness… which my brain magically changes to cunnilingus. Heat pools low in my belly and I swear to all that is unholy, all I need is one good sigh from him and I could combust.

And that just about happens when warm hands land on my hips. His fingertips press in and with everything I have, I want to look down, see the way my flesh yields for him, but it only lasts for a handful of heartbeats before he slides around me. I don’t get a sigh so much as a tightening of his muscles, an indurating of his spine.

“Ma coccinelle, it’s time for little bugs to go home.” He scoops her up into his arms, and her delighted giggles ring through my bungalow.

I love that sound. And I hate when it’s gone. I’ve gotten quite attached to it in the time I’ve spent with Evie. I like having her in my home, playing in my garden, picking berries and pruning suckers from my tomato plants.

And her father… don’t get me started. It’s a life I never really considered for myself. Not that I couldn’t have it, but more like I’m not cut out for it.

Eddie quietly gathers the bits of Evie’s day into her bag, while talking with her almost nonstop. Naming each item, commenting on the color, the texture, how big or small.

He’s a good dad.

A remarkable father.

And I would bet my ass he’s a prodigious Daddy.

“Come back for me, Jess, just for a minute.” His voice is soft and soothing, sending a thrill down my spine in the best possible way. But he’s also right there. So close there’s little more than a whisper between us. “Ma coccinelle wants to say goodbye. And I would like to thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for rearranging your life for us.”

A mess of confusion envelops me, short circuiting my brain. Sweet baby kisses smack against my cheek in tandem with a warm palm to the nape of my neck as the soft pillowy lips I’ve spent hours fantasizing about press against my forehead.

“It’s been my greatest pleasure,” I say, soaking up as much of this as I can. “Drive safe. Sleep tight⁠—”

“Bugs bite,” Evie finishes.

She has wormed her way into my heart.

Whoever said silence is golden hasn’t gotten used to a certain level of chaos in their lives. I, in fact, have come to miss it.

No.

I crave it.

My bungalow is too quiet, too still. I don’t like it. It’s unsettling. Nerve-wracking. Disquieting.

It took almost no time to tidy up the handful of things that Evie moved around, though I shuddered when I put her dishtowel-snake in the laundry basket.

And now… now…

Now nothing.

I don’t know what to do with myself.

I wander back into the kitchen and stand in the middle of it contemplating what to do next. I’m metaphorically itchy. Realistically restless.