Page 23 of All My Love

“And that’s when I realized, marital law is just…not for me,” Tiffani says, slicing her hand through the air to show her absolution on the matter. “And I know, years of law school down the drain is crazy but… I don’t want to be jaded,” she says to Ev and Deuce as her eyes lift to mine. “I don’t want to not believe in love.”

I have never wanted to roll my eyes so hard.

If I’ve mislabeled Tiffani Ledbetter and she actually is just a single woman looking to revamp her life and add love? Fine. I’m wrong.

But everything about her screams insincere, from her overly white veneers to her too clean boots.

I don’t miss the way her eyes linger on my lips when I speak, either. She wants me to notice, too, and I don’t likethat. I’ve never been attracted to women who are desperate for my attention. Tessa was that way when we met. And that didn’t end so well.

The opportunity that she’s looking for, though, despite her corny ramblings on love, is pretty obvious.

She wants to fuck me.

No matter how long it’s been, I know the look. I know what the subtle bite of her bottom lip means, I know that adjusting the heart on her sterling silver necklace is meant to draw my eyes to her breasts, and I know the slide of her boot up my calf isn’t an accident, either.

I’ve never been a man who enjoys a casual fuck. I’ve done it, sure, but it doesn't offer much fulfillment to me. But it has been a long time.

Dolly flashes through my mind again, causing my spine to jolt slightly, because when I see her smile, my balls tingle a little. I reach into my pocket and slide out my phone, looking to the table. “I’m gonna see if Bear’s all good.”

But when I slip my hand in my jacket pocket, I find my phone and a small piece of paper. I pull it out and Ev, who is watching me, snatches the paper before I can see.

“Aww,” she chides, pressing her hand to her chest. “How cute is this.”

I take the paper back and find a small drawing, done by Bear, with the help of Dolly. They’re painting together, and below are the scribbled words, “Have fun. We miss you, Daddy.”

My chest tightens at the sight, and I blink away the immediate heat that forms behind my eyes.

Deuce leans over, peering at the drawing. “Ahh,the kids did it. Cute.”

Kids. He means Bear and Dolly, because he views Dolly as a kid. I know she’s legally an adult but the fact that my family views her as youthful and childlike makes my gut churn with self-loathing and disgust for thinking about her the last few days.

I shove the phone and art back into my pocket. “I’ll check on them later,” I say, smiling at Tiffani.

I don’t love Tiffani.

But I need to have sex.

I can’t perv on the babysitter. I’m not that guy.

nine

I AM NOT CRAZY.I AM PASSIONATE. THERE’S A CLEAR DIFFERENCE.

Dolly

The credits roll as Bear hides his yawn in a couch pillow. “What next?” He bounces on the cushions, onto his knees, eyes wide with excitement despite the sleepiness that hangs in light bags beneath.

Bear gets up early. I know this because I have taken note of their daily routine for the last five years. Ever since he turned one, his bedroom light comes on around 5:30 in the morning every day. He’s an early riser, but likely because his daddy needs to be out on the land before the sun is up.

Ranch families are early to bed because of how early they are to rise, so even though Bear is still plucky, I know he must actually be tired. Tonight he’s in cowboy pajamas, ahundred little cowboys in various stages of bull riding printed all over on top of the deep blue flannel. They’re adorable, and as I take a bit of his sleeve in my fingers, tugging gently, desperation washes over me.

I want to fold those little cowboy pajamas. I want to be the one whose fulfillment comes from carefully washing, folding and putting away Bear’s laundry, so that when he gets out of his bath each night, everything he needs is carefully put just where it belongs.

I want to be the one to read him a bedtime story, like I will tonight. But I want it as a constant, not as a task as a babysitter. I catch up to his conversation, replying, “No, buddy. It’s dark, you’re clean and in your jammies.” I pinch my hoodie and yoga pants, “And so I am.”

Bear pushes out his bottom lip in an adorable little pout. It would work on me if I didn’t love this little boy so much. The creek at night is risky, and he’s far too precious. “It’s too dark out there. It’s not safe.”

He folds his arms over his chest, not hiding the yawn that comes.

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