Page 15 of Reclaim Me

“Oh.” I bite my lip as I pull into the driveway and put the car in park. “I’m not sure, sweetie.”

I don’t give her time to call me out on my lie, choosing instead to hop out of the car and rush to her side and open her door. She hops out, and I cringe when I hear the squish of her wet socks inside the sneakers I bought her for her first day at her new school. I’ll have to wash and dry them tonight if they’ve got any chance of making it out the door tomorrow morning.

“Let’s go, Nugget, we don’t want to get rained on again.”

Taking her hand, I rush us inside, and we make it in just as another shower begins. I busy myself with locking the door and shedding my wet jacket and shoes. Beside me, Riley is humming the theme song to Rugrats while she mirrors my movements. Recently, she’s been into what she calls ‘retro cartoons,’ which is just her way of saying she’s into the shows from when I was a kid and calling me old at the same time. Right now, she could call me an old hag, and I wouldn’t care because I want her brilliant mind focused on something besides me dancing around her questions.

I glance at my watch and then at her, raising a conspiratorial brow. “If you hurry, you’ll have time to watch an episode before dinner.”

My offer has her moving twice as fast, and I laugh as she starts to race up the stairs, all thoughts of our previous conversation washed away by the promise of some screen time. Once she’s gone, I make my way into the kitchen to find Marcy tending to multiple pots on the stove and Aaron sitting opposite her at the island with his laptop in front of him. He looks up as soon as I cross the threshold into the kitchen and treats me to a wide grin.

“Hey, babe. Did you get caught in the rain?”

“Yeah, it started to pour as we were leaving the cemetery, and of course, Riley wanted to splash in the puddles.”

“Of course,” he says, smiling indulgently as he opens his arms wide for me. I walk into his embrace, hoping the physical contact will help ground me. Aaron squeezes me tight and places a kiss on my cheek. It’s soft and chaste. Decent. The kind of kiss that makes it impossible for me to forget that his mother is standing a few feet away, watching us.

“I hope you two didn’t track in any mud because I spent the whole morning mopping the floors.” Marcy’s voice is soft with a perfect Southern lilt to it that makes it hard for you to suss out the bitchiness that’s present in almost everything she says.

Pulling back from Aaron, I turn my attention to her, forcing a smile even though I want to tell her that I can cover the entire house in mud if I want because it’s my damn house.

“Did you? I hope that wasn’t too hard on your hip.”

Marcy’s eyes fly to mine, and I have to hold in the laugh her expression has building in my chest. She hates when I bring up her hip, but I’m going to continue to do so until Aaron realizes that her whole reason for having to move in with us was bullshit. A week after he got his promotion and told her we were moving to New Haven, she started complaining about hip pain and talking about how she might need to have a replacement soon because she could barely get up and down the stairs in her house some days. Aaron, being the loving and dedicated son that he is, immediately offered to help her find a place without stairs, but she made excuse after excuse about why that wouldn’t work until, finally, he asked her to move in with us.

I could see the game she was running from a mile away, but I couldn’t convince Aaron that he was being played by his own mom, so here we are, all living under one roof like she wanted. The only problem is I won’t let her or Aaron forget why we’re in this little arrangement from hell in the first place.

“No, my hip is just fine, Rae,” she says, stirring a pot of greens while holding my gaze. “Thank you for asking.”

“Of course, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Maybe you won’t need the hip replacement after all?” I cock my head to the side and lift a brow, which makes her serene expression falter. She doesn’t like when I bring up the surgery I’m a hundred percent certain she was never told she needed.

Instead of answering, she places the top on the pot of greens and turns to the sink to wash her hands. “You should go freshen up, Rae, dinner will be ready soon.”

As if anticipating me following his mother’s order, Aaron releases his hold on my waist and turns back to his computer. I stand next to him, momentarily stunned by the dual dismissal, and then place my hand over his to still his fingers. He looks up at me with knit brows.

“You need to freshen up, too,” I say, dropping my voice low as I bat my lashes at him.

Surprise etches itself into his features, and even though I can tell his interest has been piqued, he still chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s not Wednesday, Rae.”

The low reluctance in his voice as he reminds me of our agreed upon day for carnal indulgence makes my chest tight, but I push the frustration down, hiding it under a sultry smile that tells him I don’t care that his mother isn’t at bible study.

“I know what day it is, Aaron.” Lifting my other hand, I rake my fingernails over the back of his neck. “And I want you, no, I need you today.”

He licks his lips, glances at his mom, and then back at me. The short shift in his attention is almost enough to make me want to give up altogether, but then he closes his laptop and rises to his feet.

“We’ll be back, Mom.”

It takes Aaron and I an hour to freshen up.

Forty-five minutes of that is me quietly begging him to go harder, deeper, and longer as if his dick could dislodge the memory of coming face-to-face with Hunter. As if a few orgasms could erase the mark he left on my soul. The other fifteen was spent showering and getting dressed for a dinner I didn’t want but am currently forcing myself to eat.

“You should have gotten some of my noodles,” Riley says to me from across the table where she’s slurping down spaghetti noodles with nothing but grated Parmesan on them. She’s been watching me push my food around my plate while Marcy fawns all over Aaron, who keeps giving her compliments on her dry-ass chicken. Now, they’re both looking at me instead of each other.

“Something wrong with your food, dear?” Marcy asks.

I set my fork down on the side of the plate. “I guess I’m just not hungry. Riley and I had a late lunch.” My fib would be more convincing if Riley wasn’t currently scarfing down her food like she hasn’t had a single meal today, but now that I’ve said it, I have no choice but to go with it. “We went to this cute cafe not far from your job, Aaron. It’s called Twisted Sistas.”

“It’s my new favorite place,” Riley adds.

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