Page 61 of When We Were More
“We don’t show any physical affection in front of the kids, especially Layla. It would be confusing.” I nod, but I’m shocked she said it. I figured I’d have to set that boundary. “We don’t tell anyone unless we okay it with the other person. No feelings. We keep feelings out of it. If we break that rule, it has to end.”
“Okay.” I think we’re going to do this.
“Okay.” She faces forward again and is quiet for about fifteen seconds before she turns to me. “Should we shake on it, or something?” She appears to be thinking about it.
“What? Are you serious?”
“I don’t know how this works. I’ve never done it before. You have…”
“I think a verbal agreement is sufficient, tiger.”
Her expression falls flat, and then she frowns.
“Why do you call me tiger?”
I hesitate. The reason I first started might annoy her. But she asked, so I’ll answer her honestly.
“Well, at first it was because you had your claws out around me all the time.” She narrows her eyes at me, and I hold up a hand to signal her there’s more. “Then it turned into how fierce you are. In a good way. The night I found you doing the ‘Fuck you, Joe’ thing solidified it. Plus, if that didn’t, the scratches I’m guessing I have on my back from last night should.”
Her cheeks turn rosy red. Something in me likes that I can make her blush.
“This plan we have, is it effective immediately?” There’s a brightness in her eyes, and she’s clearly fighting a smirk.
“Yes.”
“Do the benefits include showering and having sex once more before you have to leave?”
“I think we can work that out. You ready?”
She nods, and we both stand. I turn off the heater, and we head inside. She leads the way up to take a shower, and I lock the front door after taking the cups to the dishwasher. When I get upstairs, she’s rinsing her hair, leaning back under the water, and looking like a goddess.
I watch her for a second, before joining her. Damn, I’m one lucky man.
CHAPTER 23
Henry
It’s Christmas Eve, and it’s been almost a week since I began having the most mind-blowing sex of my life. Definitely not what I expected from a woman who was worried she wouldn’t be a good lover because of her lack of experience. I guess there’s something to be said about sex when it’s someone you care about. As a friend, I mean.
Matilda and I started out rough, but once we each settled down a bit, we realized we get along well—like each other, even. Over the last week, we’ve managed to find time to rendezvous three additional times. Once more at her place when I went over to verify measurements for her bathroom remodel. A second time at mine when she came over to approve the initial drawings, and the last time, yesterday, is seared into my brain forever. It’s safe to say I’ll never look at my office desk the same.
I’m disappointed that Matilda refuses to see each other today, or on Christmas. I pushed back, but she’s adamant it’s time for family. She doesn’t want to confuse my girls and cause them to wonder why she’s the only friend her father has over for the holidays. I want to respect her boundaries, but hey, if we happen to go to Aron Falls’ Christmas Eve festivities at the townsquare for the first time, and I happen to run into her, then that’s not my fault.
The adorable off-tune rendition of the Christmas carol that Layla is singing pulls me from my thoughts. Lena claps her hands in front of her repeatedly as she howls what I assume she thinks are words.
I watch them in the rearview mirror, and my pride swells. I make a lot of mistakes as a single dad, I’m sure, but my girls are happy and healthy. That’s a miracle after what they’ve been through with losing their mom.
“Daddy, sing with us!”
How can I say no to this sweet little girl? I can’t. Thus, I add my voice to the cacophony of sounds filling my truck as we approach my mom’s house. It’s the best damn sound I’ve ever heard.
When we arrive at Mom’s for brunch, and I get the kids out of the car and into the house, the snow boots and winter outdoor gear all removed, they take off looking for my cousin’s kids. Christmas Eve brunch is one of the few times each year that I get to see my cousins. Mom invites her sister, as well as Dad’s sister and their families, every year.
This year is different. Mom has made it clear that this year, she’s inviting the man she’s seeing. I feel a number of things about it, most of which I’m not able to give a name to. I want my mom to be happy. I do. But I also never want to see her hurt and in pain like she was when she lost my dad.
I kick off my shoes, hang my coat, and head into the kitchen in search of my mom.
The comforting smell of cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven, washes over me. We always have them, homemade by Mom, on this Christmas Eve celebration. It goes back as far as I can remember. Mom says it was something she did with her parents as well.
