Page 79 of Reclaim Me

“That sounds like a beautiful morning.”

“It was the best morning!” She smiles. “Now, Daddy’s making pancakes, and I’m in charge of drinks.”

“Oh, that’s a big job for such a little girl. Are you sure you’re ready for that kind of responsibility?”

Riley rolls her eyes. “It’s just juice, Mommy. I can do that easy.”

“Of course you can,” I assure her, smiling because she hates when I forget that she’s a big girl who can do hard things. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yep,” she says, popping her lips on the ‘p’

“If you’re in charge of juice, what are you doing up here with me?”

“Well, I came to see if you wanted orange juice or apple. Daddy said he trusted me to make a good choice for you, but I didn’t want to choose wrong.”

“Rileyyyy!” Hunter’s voice comes through the door, followed by the sound of his footsteps, and I look at Riley, stretching my eyes wide.

“Uh oh, sounds like the boss is looking for you.”

She giggles as Hunter calls out for her again. “Where’d you go, Nugget?”

“I’m in here with Mommy!” she shouts, sitting up just as he pushes the door open slowly and peeks his head through.

I sit up, too, because it feels weird to be seen lounging around in his bed, but I immediately regret the decision when Hunter’s eyes fall on me. My nightie, which is just a white version of the one I spilled wine all over last night, is sheer, leaving very little to the imagination. Hunter’s mouth hangs open as he studies me, his eyes traveling from my face down my neck and then to my chest, where my nipples are standing at attention, straining towards him through the thin fabric.

“Can we have breakfast in bed?” Riley asks, slicing through the building tension the way only a child can.

Hunter swallows, and his lips part like he’s preparing to answer her question, but no words come out. I jump in, intending to save him by supplying an answer but only managing to make everything worse when I say, “No, sweetie, we don’t want to make a mess in Daddy’s bed.”

28

HUNTER

Now

Puddles.

The first time I took Rae in my bed, she left puddles in my sheets. Big, wet, mattress-ruining puddles that made it necessary for me to invest in a waterproof mattress topper. Those damn puddles are the only thing on my mind as I make breakfast, burning pancake after pancake as her words about making a mess in my bed play over and over again on a loop.

We don’t want to make a mess in Daddy’s bed.

Fucking hell.

I want her to make a mess in my bed. I was going to make a mess of her in my bed last night, but I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t want a conversation about her shitty-ass boyfriend to be the catalyst for our first moment together in years. When I take her—and I am going to take her because I don’t give a fuck about the floundering commitment she’s made to Aaron, it’ll be about us and only us.

Not him.

“It’s burning again, Daddy.”

I curse under my breath, scooping another charred-to-a-crisp pancake out of the pan and onto the plate I’ve designated for myself while Riley looks on, swinging her legs from her perch on the countertop by the stove. She’s as adorable as she can be in her unicorn PJs and matching bedroom slippers. When she came down the stairs early this morning, I’d just gotten back from my run, which I’d intentionally pushed up just so I could get back before she or Rae knew I was gone.

Turns out, I’d timed it perfectly because my sleepy girl came down rubbing her eyes and looking for her mom mere minutes after I walked through the door. Since it was our first time spending a morning together, I didn’t know what to expect from her mood. Didn’t know if she was a crier or a grump like me. Turns out, she’s neither. Well, at least with me. I remember Rae mentioning something about Riley not being a morning person, but that wasn’t my experience at all. I guess it’s true what people say about some kids saving the drama for their mama because Riley and I had the chillest morning in history. She talked me into taking her to see the treehouse, and I caved, giving her a ride on the Daddy Express so the morning dew didn’t make her slippers wet.

We chatted all the way down to the edge of my property, with Riley telling me all about her dreams and asking me about mine. I had to lie because none of the images my brain conjured during the few hours of sleep I got were appropriate to share with my kid. Riley is still talking, and my attention is split into thirds, trying to focus on Riley’s voice as she talks about the birthday party she’s now apparently having at my house, not burning the last of the pancake batter, and Rae moving around upstairs all at the same time.

She’s on the phone. Her voice is a low and concentrated whisper that makes it impossible for me to make out anything she’s saying or decipher who she’s saying it to. I don’t think it’s Aaron. He’s probably still mad about her being here with me this weekend, and while I know the decision has caused her some distress, I can’t help but feel grateful that she made it. I would have been happy just having Riley here, but something about Rae being here too, invading my space with her scent and making herself at home between my sheets, just makes everything so much better.

“All the bubbles have popped. Mommy says that means it’s time to flip it,” Riley is telling me now, prompting me to flip the pancake before it’s resigned to the same fate as the others.

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