Page 71 of Stay

What if—

My cell vibrates in my back pocket.

The frenzied what ifs vaporize when I see who’s calling. “Hey, Angel.”

An immediate calmness pours over my head when she replies with a sexy, sultry, “Hey, Daddy.”

We can go into heavy detail on why these honorifics work for both of us, but I’m not about to dissect what doesn’t need to be pulled apart. Our dynamic is perfection for a bunch of reasons that are no one else’s business.

“Where are you?” I glance at the clock on my wall. It’s six-thirty already. Damn, today flew by. “I’ll come meet you.”

“What if I’m on my way to get a root canal?”

“I’ll come hold your hand and give support.”

“What if I’m in the middle of a gynecologist appointment?”

“I’ll still come hold your hand and give support.”

“What if I’m getting a tattoo of your face on my ass?”

“Then I’ll definitely come hold your hand and give support. It’s better to be there in person, anyway. Wouldn’t want them to make my nose too big or anything.” Her giggle is music to my ears. Closing my laptop, I get up and grab my coat, eager to be with her. “You hungry?”

“Starving. Want to meet up for dinner?”

“Tell me when and where. I’ll be there.”

“Your place. Half hour.” Haley starts her engine. “I have a surprise for you.”

I hope it comes with stilettos.

Hanging up, I bolt from my office, and nearly trample poor Tamara on my way out.

“Hey, Cole, I need to talk with you.”

“Tomorrow.” I holler from the elevator. “Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.”

The door closes with her staring at me, slack jawed.

I make it home in pretty good time, considering rush hour. Shoving my door open, I stop in my tracks when I see Haley in a pair of red fuck me pumps, a white feathery tutu, and my collar. The leash attached to it hangs down her back, hitting her calves as she walks around what can only be described as the most pathetic Christmas tree I’ve ever seen in my life.

It’s three-foot tall, crooked, pre-lit...

And pink.

“What’s this?” I stalk closer.

Haley turns and now I see she’s got peppermint candy nipple clamps on her tits.

Holy. Shit.

“What’s it look like?” She saunters over and kisses me. “I got us a Christmas tree.”

Did I mention she’s wearing a headband that has candy canes attached to little springs that make them bounce all over the place?

“Well.” She purses her lips. “I didn’t get us this Christmas tree. I already had it.”

My chest tightens. I remember when she once told me she never had a Christmas tree growing up. Her parents couldn’t afford one or didn’t have a place to put one up. “This is yours?” I reach out and grab the wiry tip of a branch. It’s all plastic.

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