Page 15 of Finding Gwen

Oliver was on top of my chest, his face inches away from mine, as I laid on the couch. Realizing none of it was real, the heart that felt so full only a few seconds ago slowly drained. Groaning, I sat up, lifting Oliver off of me and onto the couch. I was about to stand up when it hit me. “Oliver, how did you get out of your crib?”

“I climb Daddy. I strong.” He looked at me as if I should have known the answer already. It occurred to me that typically Gwendalyn and Oliver have already started their day long before I found the energy to climb out of bed. The dad-guilt hit hard as I wondered what else I had missed. Had she said something to me about Oliver climbing out of his crib? Had I been so distracted by my thoughts of her that I couldn’t even process the information she told me about my own son?

“Daddy, where Miss Gen? I hungry,” Oliver whined while shifting on my lap.

“How about we make breakfast today?” The words were out of my mouth before I could even process them. I hadn’t cooked a full meal by myself since long before Oliver was born, let alone with him. When his mother left, we survived on casseroles from neighbors and a lot of boxed pasta. Boiling water had always been simple enough. Surely I could find my way around the kitchen again if only to spend some quality time with my son, right?

“Pancakes and bacon, Daddy!” Oliver’s face brightened, the joy apparent on his face of getting to help me.

“Of course, figlio mio.” Scooping him into my arms, I walked to the kitchen and put him on his feet by the fridge. He ran around the island, coming back with a step stool I had never noticed before, and placed it in front of the counter. Maybe distancing myself from Gwendalyn wasn’t the best plan. I was a stranger in my own home.

Pulling out all the needed ingredients for breakfast and placing them on the counter in front of Oliver, I looked down at him. He was bouncing on his feet, happily waiting for a task. He grew up right in front of me and I never noticed. Mentally kicking myself, I determined it was time to get my head out of my ass and stop acting like a lovesick teenager. I was a grown ass adult who could control his feelings and his dick.

“Alright, little man. Let’s get breakfast going.” Oliver clapped his hands, then excitedly reached for the eggs I had set out. Before I could stop him, he had them crushed against the counter, shell pieces and yolk flying everywhere. I may have overestimated my abilities.

Chapter Ten

Gwen

Rolling over in bed, I readjusted the pillow beneath my head and pulled my blankets tighter around myself. Though slightly confused by the lack of softness to them, I decided it wasn’t important enough to warrant getting up. My body relaxed back into the mattress so I could hopefully get a few more minutes of sleep before my alarm goes off. Yawning, I breathed in the most intoxicating mix of pine and bourbon. Immediately, my eyes flew open. This wasn’t my bed. I nearly fell on my face trying to rid myself of the sheet tangled in between my legs when a photo of Ollie and his dad caught my attention. Freezing, I looked around the room and recognized all of Anthony’s things. Shit, how did I end up in his bed?

A loud beeping sound interrupted the growing anxiety, and it took me longer than it should have to recognize it was the smoke alarm. Rushing out of the room, I crossed the hallway to find Ollie’s door wide open with him not inside. Frantically searching the closet, I called out to him, wondering if he had climbed out of his crib and then hid when the alarm went off. “Ollie! Oliver!” Panic set in when I couldn’t find him. Running down the steps, I continued calling for him as I made my way through the house.

In the midst of looking, Ollie’s giggles broke through the panic, and I followed the sound through the house in a sprint. I was preparing myself to have to scoop him up and make a run for it when I rounded the corner into the kitchen, stopping dead in my tracks.

On the stove was a tray of what I could only assume used to be bacon by the smell in the air, but was now burnt beyond recognition. Next to it was the stove top griddle, which had a half melted spatula on it, covered in a wet baking mix. There were eggshells scattered on the floor and a bowl filled with more of the wet mix. Looking at Ollie, his back turned to me, there was no hiding that he was covered head to toe with flour. He had his little hands up in the air mimicking his dad, who was using a kitchen towel to try to fan smoke away from the alarm. Anthony was shirtless under the kitchen apron he had on, and I couldn’t help myself as I admired the detailed lines of his arm muscles and noticed he, too, was covered in flour. Trying to hold in my laughter, I slapped my hand over my mouth, muffling the chuckle that escaped. I was unsuccessful, tears springing to my eyes as a full laugh came out of me, causing me to lean on the doorway for support.

Ollie noticed me first, turning and running toward me, laughing. Picking him up and putting him on my hip, I wiped some of the mix off his face. “Miss Gen, I make breakfast!” I looked at Anthony, who had stopped fanning the smoke, and noticed the pleading look on his face. Hiding my smile, I walked past him and opened the window nearest the alarm. Within minutes, the alarm stopped blaring, and I looked down at Ollie.

“How about we let your dad go get cleaned up while we handle the kitchen? Then we can see what can be saved for breakfast.” Turning to Anthony, he looked dumbfounded, so I gestured with my head. “Go, I’ve got this.” I offered a smile, hoping it reassures him.

“Thank you,” he mouthed, not meeting my eyes before leaving the kitchen. I refrained from staring after him, knowing I would probably drool over his shirtless back more than I did his arms. After setting Ollie down on his feet, I ruffled his hair, shaking out all the loose mix, then brushing off his pajamas.

“I think this is as good as it’s going to get, buddy. We’ll get you changed after breakfast,” I said.

“Clean?” he asked, continuing to smile up at me.

“Yeah, let’s get things cleaned. Wanna go get the broom and dustpan?” Without answering, Ollie grabbed it and began haphazardly sweeping the floor. Even though I knew he was going to end up making a bigger mess, all that mattered was he was kept busy. This way, I could focus on cleaning up everything else. After taking inventory of what needed to be done, I started tossing things into the trash.

Twenty minutes later, the kitchen was returned to order and Ollie was watching Daniel Tiger in the living room with a bowl of dry cereal. He had quickly lost interest in helping clean, which I didn’t blame the poor guy, and nothing was very salvageable from the breakfast disaster.

I was starting the dishes when I heard a pounding on the front door that echoed through the house, startling me. Drying off my hands, I made my way to the front door, peeking in on Ollie to make sure he was still hypnotized by the talking tiger. There’s another knock on the door, this one visibly causing the door to rattle on its hinges. Without looking through the peephole, I swung open the door and my heart dropped into my stomach.

Standing on the porch was Matthew, holding a single rose in his hand. I froze, stunned.

He must have thought it was an invitation as he tried to walk into the house. Panic coursed through me, throwing a look over my shoulder to make sure Ollie was still in the living room and Anthony was upstairs. I could still hear the water running in the shower. Shoving Matthew back onto the porch with a hand on his chest, I stepped outside with him, closing the door softly behind me.

“Matthew, what are you doing here?” Again, he tried to push the flower toward me and I pressed my back against the door, putting as much distance between us as possible. He pulled away, looking almost hurt that I wouldn’t accept his gift. There were so many questions running through my head right now. “How did you find me? How did you get out of jail?”

“I called in a favor. I know you didn’t mean to have me arrested,” he chuckled, as if this was all some kind of game that he was obviously winning. Why had I been so naïve as to think one of his good family friends wouldn’t come running to his rescue? “I had to call in another favor so I could find you. I know you feel guilty about having me arrested, which is why I came to find you.”

“Why would I feel guilty, Matthew? You tried to force yourself on me.” I was trying to stay calm. Matthew needed to leave so I could get back inside before Anthony came downstairs and discovered I was gone.

“If Ivy hadn’t shown up, you would be back with me, where you belong.” His jaw set as he spoke, his fists balling at his sides. He leaned forward, and I reached for the doorknob behind me, my flight instinct seconds from setting in. My chest rose rapidly, trying to figure out if I could make it inside before Matt could react. I would deal with Anthony’s unfortunate opinion of me later. I just needed to get away. As if seeing my reaction, he lifted his hands defensively, the crumpled flower dangling between his fingers. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry. We’ve been engaged for over a year, baby. Just come home and we can figure this out.”

“I don’t belong to you. Matt. I’m not something you can own,” I lashed out, a wave of confidence washing over me.

“Fuck this.” Matthew lurched forward, throwing the rose on the porch and grabbing my wrist. “It’s time for you to stop playing house with some stranger.”

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