Page 14 of My Ex's Brothers

“Did you…unpack…all of my stuff?” I ask in wonder.

Dane shuts the door, skirting past me, drawing my attention to his perfectly corded back muscles. He disappears into the kitchen, and I realize Lyla is in her jump swing, bouncing back and forth.

The house is…clean.

Lyla’s happily bouncing along as if I haven’t even been gone, and Dane…

“Yeah, I figured while she was napping, I could, you know, maybe take some things off your plate?”

I watch as he washes her bottle therightway. Astounded doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel. Because Dane acts like he’s done this before, and that makes me feel a mixture of jealousy and…longing.

Because watching him do all this is like watching what Dexshouldhave done.

You’d think a man with four kids would have known how to wash a bottle, or even change a diaper.

But Dex didn’t want to do any of that. It was like pulling teeth to get him to feed Lyla.

“You didn’t have to do any of that,” I say, emotions swirling inside me, threatening to pour over.

Dane settles the towel down on the counter as I pick up Lyla.

“I know,” he says softly as he walks over to us. He stops next to me, close enough I get a heady whiff of his deodorant. Close enough his warm breath tickles the flesh of my neck as he grabs Lyla’s tiny hand, his dark eyes lighting up with excitement as he peppers her small fist with kisses.

“But I wanted to,” he says, and I can’t help as my gaze falls to his mouth as he pulls away from Lyla. It’s just a split second, but our eyes meet. Just like they did that night, across the room at the bar. Dane bites his lip, closing his eyes as he turns away, and only then do I feel like I can breathe.

“Thank you,” I say as he heads down the hall to the laundry room. I bounce Lyla in my arms.

“Anytime,” he says, his voice faint down the hall. I collapse on the couch with Lyla on my chest, capturing her gaze as I pretend to blow bubbles at her.

When Dane comes back out in his freshly laundered T-shirt, the strangest feeling pools in between my legs. My heart beats a little faster, and I realize I don’t want him to go.

But I know he has to, because he isn’tmine.

He isn’t my ex, and he isn’t a friend, he’s…

Something in between. Something I’m not quite sure how to define yet, so I don’t try to.

“Good luck with your interview,” he says with a smile as he heads for the door, his hand hovering there. Almost as if he wants me to stop him.

As if he wants to stay.

I wish he could, but I know that’s a dangerous road. One I need to steer clear of for both mine and Lyla’s sake.

I smile at him, nodding in response. “Thanks, I’ll let you know what happens,” I say.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking. But as I watch him leave, I can’t help but hope to see him again.

After a quick nap with Lyla,I’m panicked to awaken to the darkness in my apartment. One look at the clock and I note that it’s nearing five p.m. Dinner time.

“Shit,” I say as I pick up my sleeping daughter, change her, and get us both ready for a trip to the store. I had every intention of going to the store earlier, but I suppose a nap was long overdue for us both. Still, I’m surprised that I’m able to get us both ready and in the car in under thirty minutes.

Even though I haven’t been here in awhile, I remember the roads like the back of my hand. Lyla, of course, decides to wake up as I’m placing in her cushioned seat for the cart, and she isn’t thrilled to have been awakened. A couple passes me, shooting me dirty looks, and I push my cart with my head held high, past all the individuals shooting me scathing looks becausehow dare Ibring my adorable daughter to the store.

The horror!

I let out a heavy breath, jiggling her and doing all I can while simultaneously trying to make it through the aisles in one piece. Due to her stubborn nature, she screams and cries, begging for the spotlight.

Just like her daddy.

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