Page 66 of Auctioned to Dr. Daddy

“We’re finished,” I snap, louder than I mean to. I wince a little when Tabitha stirs, but she ends up falling back asleep with a little huff.

Even Emma had gone still when that happened. Neither of us wants to get caught fighting in front of her. We worked hard not to do that when we lived together, even during the final days of our marriage.

It’s only when she fully settles back down that I speak again. “Emma, we’re finished. We’ve been finished for a long time. And don’t try to act like you’re here for me. We both know that you're here for the name I put at the bottom of a check.”

“I’m here for Tabitha,” counters Emma.

“Then you’re a week early because visitation isn’t today.” Without waiting for her response, I turn and storm into the apartment building. I’m actually expecting Emma to come after me, giving chase to try and change my mind.

But she doesn’t.

I take the stairs, in desperate need of a distraction as I try to calm myself down. When I get to the top floor, I take another breath, genuinely expecting Emma to have used the elevator. But she’s not waiting for me when I step out into the narrow strip of the hallway that makes up the space outside of the penthouse suite.

I let out a breath of relief, feeling truly free for the first time in years.

I fish out my key to get into my apartment. It only takes a few minutes for me to get Tabitha woken up. Groggily, we get her changed into her pajamas and then tucked into her bed.

I give her a kiss on the forehead, her favorite stuffed rabbit, and leave the door open enough that the light from the hallway can shine in.

A grin spreads on my face when I see no new messages from Emma. Normally she would be blowing up my phone by now.

This is a conversation we’ve had in the past as well but this time I’ve made my point perfectly clear—Or perhaps it’s that she realized my feelings for Demi are real.

I pour myself a glass of sweet red wine and sit down on the black leather sofa.

For a long time, I knew that the divorce had affected me more than I cared to admit, perhaps more than I’d realized.

I had lost a part of myself, my determination, the power I had over the situation. And now I feel whole again. It’s my love for Demi that reminded me of who I was.

Without thinking, I grab the phone and pull up Demi’s number. It’s late, but I shoot her a text anyway; just one, asking if she’s already started packing yet. The previous owner left two days ago so she can move in anytime now.

There’s no response at first, and I figure that I’ve missed my chance and she’s fallen asleep. But then the phone rings.

“I’m trying to go through my clothes,” says Demi.

I laugh. “Go through them?”

“You know, downsize. Get rid of what I don’t wear.”

“You realize that the house you’re moving into is bigger than where you live now, right?” I ask, chuckling into the receiver of the phone.

Demi laughs too. “It’s the idea behind it! You’re supposed to get rid of some of the old stuff when you move. Pretty sure that’s like, the only legal way to do it.”

“You think the police are going to come to your house and arrest you if you take a few old tee shirts up to the new house when you move?” I tease.

“Absolutely. The tradition police. They take their jobs ultra seriously. You’ll never believe what they did the last time I didn’t wear green on St. Patrick’s Day.”

“I’m going to guess—” I pretend to think about it. “They gave you a fine.”

“They pinched me,” snickers Demi. “Come on, that answer should have been obvious.”

“It’s late,” I counter, but I’m smiling. The tension that my encounter with Emma had brought up slips out of my spine. “You should give me a pass on things because of that.”

Demi hums. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“What are you going to give me, if I give you a pass?”

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