Page 20 of Staying for You

“Desperation. Why else?”

“I don’t know. You think with your wiener a lot. I figured that’s what happened here, too.”

Again with the silence. Does he not realize that tells me all I need to know?

“How much are you asking me for?”

“I don’t know. Couple grand oughta do,” he mutters.

Now it’s my turn for silence. “A couple grand? You think I just have that much lying around?”

“You don’t?”

That’s not the point. Why would I give him a few thousand dollars?

“It’s not really your business whether I have the money or not. The key to that sentence,” I tell him, starting to get angry, “is that it’smymoney.”

“If I explain the whole male escort thing to you, would you give it to me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He scoffs, not believing me.

“Of the two of us, I’m not the liar,” I remind him.

“Ouch.”

“Right.” I hear a knock on my door and those butterflies that were in my stomach earlier just from thinking of writing again multiply tenfold knowing who’s on the other side. “Scott, I need to go.”

“What? Why? Where evenareyou?”

“I escaped,” I say cheekily. He isn’t a good enough detective to decipher my meaning. No one knows where I am except my mom. I wanted her to know in case there was an emergency. Contrary to how she was as a mother, she’s one of the best Nanas in the world. She pulled her head out of her ass after I graduated college and she realized what a crazy four years it had been for me to have to stay living at home while commuting back and forth just so I could take care of everything at home.

“Cami? You okay?” I hear Owen shout and fling off the blanket and crawl out of the chair. There really isn’t an easy way to get in and out of it but dang is it comfortable. Worth it.

“Coming! Coming!”

I stub my toe on the leg of one of the kitchen chairs as I run past and let out a muffled curse. “What is going on? Who are you talking to?” Scott demands to know.

“No one.”

“Now who’s the liar.”

“And here I thought you were a shitty detective,” I say when I get to the door. “I gotta go, okay?”

“Wait! There’s something else!”

“What is it?” I snap and open the door. No use in trying to hide my baggage of crazy. But holy crap. He’s got a baby strapped to his chest and one on his back. He’s double baby-ing looking like a mountain man with his scruffy beard that has little snowflakes melting on it and the kids are bundled up with rosy cheeks and yup, my ovaries just exploded all around us.

I know I’m staring like a goon. Probably with my mouth hanging open and drool escaping. My ex-husband keeps saying my name in my ear and it snaps me back to the present enough to lift a hand and point to the phone, mouthing the wordsorryand rolling my eyes. He gives me a funny look then laughs when I make ahe won’t shut upgesture with my hand.

He chuckles and the sound hits me right in the place that’s been sadly ignored for oh so very long. He’s standing in front of me as if I’m not currently fighting a battle inside over whether or not I should attack the poor guy, smooshing a baby between us, and kiss all over his sexy face. But seriously, come on! Who could blame me!

Let me repeat it for you.

He has a baby strapped to his chest AND one on his back. He’s sexy without the babies. With? I’m helpless. I have no power against his crooked grin and the way his hand is resting softly on the top of his niece’s stocking hat covered head. Especially when he bends his head to kiss the top of hers, those chubby little legs kicking happily. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. Your uncle is a hottie.

“Cami!”

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