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“What?” I ask, now irritated that he’s impeding my progress.
“Don’t even look at those dishes.” He shakes his head back and forth as he begins bouncing Astria on his hip mimicking my movements from earlier.
My eyes dart around the apartment we share. It’s not dirty or disorganized, it’s lived in. This is our home base, and the dishes in the sink and the toys on the floor just mean that we’re doing life here together. I’m fine with the daily chaos, but I need to reset before I can rest at night. I won’t sleep knowing I’ve left things undone.
“Damien, you know I can’t go to bed with a mess. You know this about me. I just need to wash the dishes and pick up the playmat, and then…” I count off my mental list of things that still need to be done before I can blissfully collapse into bed but am interrupted before I can finish.
“Nope.” His large hand lands on my shoulder and he turns my body in the opposite direction with an easy movement that makes my skin tingle beneath his touch. “You are going to waltz right on into that bathroom and run a tub full of steaming hot water. You’re going to sprinkle those delicious smelling salts that you love so much in there, and then you’re going to stay until your toes wrinkle.”
A hot bath sounds so glorious when he says it that way, but my brief fantasy is quickly interrupted by my to-do list. Sleep is at the top of my priority list and those things all stand between me and my bed.
“What about everything else that needs to be done?” I huff, mad that I almost got my hopes up about a hot bath.
“Astria and I have it covered.” I glance back at him over my shoulder, and my heart melts. “We’re going to do the dishes. I’ll give her a quick bath in the sink and get her all ready for bed. I’ll get her things picked up out here.”
“But…” I start.
“The only butt I’m interested in is your naked one in that bathtub.” I feel my face flush, and I hope he doesn’t notice. I know he’s kidding.
He pushes my shoulder gently until I take a step toward our shared bathroom.
“Well, when you say it like that. How can I argue?” I try not to think too much about his comment as I smile over my shoulder and I walk away, snatching a clean folded towel from the laundry basket on my way out. I put a little extra sway in my hips because this is what my life has come to. Flirting with a man that I can’t ever have.
If this man thinks for one second, I won’t use the image of his chiseled jawline and the heat in his gaze the moment I sink into that hot water, he’s dead wrong. I’m shameless. This Mama’s got needs too.
Chapter Seven
Damien
“Don’t look at me like that.”
Astria smiles her gummy little grin up at me, and I know it’s a match to the goofy grin on my face.
I’m an idiot. I know it. Astria knows it; that’s why she’s silently judging me in a way only a six-month-old baby can. And Gia knows it.
“You think the comment about her butt was too much? Crap, her booty. Don’t say butt, Astria, it’s a bad word. Shit. Don’t say crap either. Okay, let’s stop now and pretend this conversation never happened. We’ll let this be our little secret.” I take a deep breath and turn to the sink full of dishes with our daughter seated solidly on my hip. I send up a silent prayer that shit is not the first word out of our daughter’s mouth.
I work through the motions of cleaning the kitchen and picking up Astria’s toys, and I use every tactic of distraction I can think of to not imagine Gia’s naked body soaking in a hot bathtub just a few feet away.
One wall. That’s all that separates us. That damn wall. It’s the story of my life. There’s always something standing between us. Age. Tyler. A mutual agreement, also referred to as our signed marriage certificate, to remain platonic and co-parent our daughter. And that wall. I guess, in a way, it’s symbolic of our relationship.
Don’t get me wrong, I love having them here. I love sharing our space. The transition to co-parenting was so much easier than even I thought it would be. It feels less like the formal obligation that it sounds like, and kind of like a real family.
Gia and I work together seamlessly. We laugh over dinner. We work as a team to get the housework done, both realizing when the other person needs a break. We respect each other and communicate openly.
About everything except the one thing I can’t tell her. Because if I tell her that she’s the first person I see in my mind when I wake up in the mornings and the last person I imagine before falling asleep in an empty bed every night I’ll ruin everything.
I can’t tell her that I wish it was my bed that she lays her head down in each night.
I can’t tell her how fucking adorable she looks in the silk hat she lovingly refers to as her bedtime bonnet.
I can’t tell her that every fucking time I hear her in the shower my dick gets hard.
I definitely can’t tell her that I love the sound of her voice when she calls me just to check in or that I wish more than anything she’d come watch one of my games. Not just be there to take photographs, but be there for me, wearing my number on her back.
It’s never been my number. Even when we were kids, she always wore T’s number.
Astria babbles and I’m pulled from my thoughts. An abrupt reminder of why I have to keep my feelings on lock. It’s normal. What I’m feeling is normal. Any man in my position would feel this way about the mother of his child. Right? I’m biologically programmed to want her. It doesn’t mean I can have her.
