Page 3 of Good and Gone

I glance at the time on my phone and then jump up, but my legs tangle in the sheets. I fall out of bed, landing on my ass, my head bumping the nightstand. “Ow! Damn it…”

He looks at me with a furrowed brow. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, rubbing my head. “I have to run to the store.”

He looks at me dubiously. “Right now?”

“I forgot I’m supposed to take muffins for Mason's class,” I explain.

“So?” he says, like this is a ridiculous diversion, the kind only married people with kids can understand. “We're in the middle of something. Can't you do it later?”

“No, I can't do it later!” I say, pulling on my robe and tying it tight. I rush out of the bedroom, my hair wild and messy, my face flushed.

“What time would later be, anyway?” I call over my shoulder.

“Seven-thirty?”

“No, I’m supposed to have them there by eight,” I say. “I’m cutting it close as is.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” he tells me from behind. He makes his presence known with a heavy sigh.

“I have a feeling eighteen kids expecting a treat and their teacher would disagree with you. Not to mention the embarrassment Mason would feel.”

“People make mistakes, Hailey. You improvise.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you don’t have to try to be so damned perfect all the time. Quit letting strangers dictate your life. Who cares what they say? Who cares what they think?”

“I care.”

His eyes crinkle in that familiar way. “Yeah, well,” he says motioning toward his body. “It’s you who ends up missing out.”

“I love you. But you don’t know what you’re talking about. And besides—our son is not a stranger. His teacher and classmates are notstrangers.”

He readily acquiesces, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Okay,” he says, nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck. “You win.”

“It’s not a contest, Tyler,” I say, turning to face him. “It’s parenthood.”

His eyes narrow, digging into mine as he gazes. Stern features and dark eyes are a stark contrast to his actual personality. One sideways glance and he’s been known to send the neighborhood kids off in tears. “You want me to go instead?”

I don’t think he means it as a question, but that’s how I take it. It was a bit of a trap, and he fell right in. “Would you mind?”

“Yes, but I know that's not the answer you're looking for.”

“Tell you what—I’ll handle breakfast and then I’ll even get everyone out the door,” I say, though he knows as well as I do that this is no trade. I do it every morning. He has a commute. Mine is just down the hall.

He nods, his eyes softened by a touch of appreciation. “Deal,” he says.

He kisses me then, his lips seeking mine. I let him in, despite my better judgment, and we pick up where we left off. His hands find their way under my robe, tugging at the tie until it comes undone. He slides the robe off my shoulders and lets it fall to the floor, his eyes hungrily roaming over my body. He reaches for me, pulling me close as his mouth finds mine again.

We're lost in each other, tangled up in the moment, when there's a loud crash down the hall. It sounds like someone dropped a tray of dishes. We both freeze, listening for any follow-up noise, but there's nothing.

“Oh look,” he says. “The little angels are awake.”

2

Hailey

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