Page 16 of Rolling with the Single Daddies

I grab my keys and head to the office, desperate for distance. As I drive, I can’t shake the fear that Avery will become a problem between Diego and me. I’ll have to choose. I have to keep what’s best for Evie in mind.

This shouldn’t feel like a fucking sacrifice. Avery’s my nanny. That’s my only claim to her. I need to kill the boner and be a fucking adult about it.

At the shop, I bury myself in the details of our international expansion. Probably not the best paperwork to look over when my focus is so scattered.

A knock on my door breaks my feeble concentration.

“Mr. Bane? A customer wants to know if we can special-order a cigar.”

“Which one?” I don’t bother to look up.

“The Sweet Alice. It looks like we used to carry it.”

My heart stops. My fingers tighten on the contract, crumpling the edge. It’s my late wife’s favorite.

“No.” The word flies out of my mouth.

“Are you sure? It pulls up with one of our vendors.” He’s oblivious to my emotional turmoil.

I’m paralyzed by grief and longing. All I have left are my thoughts. And they go to Avery. To new life, new possibilities. And to betrayal of a different sort.

The question is which betrayal is stronger? Is it worse to consider opening my heart to another woman after my soulmate died? Or is it worse to raise Evie without even trying to bring a mother figure into her life?

I roughly gather the papers and shove them into a desk drawer. Grabbing my keys, I bark out, “Order it.”

He asks if I’m okay. I’m not. Maybe I answer him, maybe I don’t. I slam my office door shut, lock it, and head straight to my bike.

The open road is my only solace. Rolling the throttle, I sort my next steps. I’ll talk to Avery and apologize correctly, promise that it will never happen again. Same for Diego.

When I walk through the front door, the house is quiet. I find Avery on the floor of Evie’s bedroom, playing with both of our kids. She turns, startled by my presence, and I’m struck by how beautiful she is, how perfectly she fits the motherly role, and how my heart lets her right back in.

I glance at the family photo, my wife beaming with joy as she holds our precious bundle.

“You’re home early,” Avery whispers. “Everything okay?”

She’s caught my gaze.

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. She must see something in my eyes because her expression softens. She moves her baby to the playpen, hands Evie a toy, then guides me to the living room.

“If you’re worried about the other night. It won’t happen again.” Her voice overflows with sincerity. “I didn’t mean to disrespect—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” The dam breaks. She’s so easy to talk to. I find myself telling her about the cigar, about my amazing wife, about the gaping hole her death leftin my life.

“I don’t mean to pry, but what happened to her?” Avery asks softly.

I hesitate, then decide to trust her with the truth. “She was killed by a rival motorcycle club.”

Avery’s sharp intake of breath makes me look up. Her face has gone pale, her eyes wide. People are always surprised by this, but there’s something different in her eyes. Or I’ve just majorly overstepped and she fears for her own life.

She converts her momentary shock to a guarded reaction. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

I consider what she might be thinking. “You’re safe. It’s in the past.”

“Of course.”

There’s more she’s not saying, I can feel it. But before I can press, she continues, “Sometimes bad things happen. Like why I’m a single mom. My ex isn’t a good person. My biggest mistake ever.”

I study her face. Pain hides behind her eyes. I decide to lighten the mood. “Isn’t it ironic how some mistakes pan out? You ended up with Bella and motherhood looks good on you.”

---