Page 126 of Shortcake
Butter melted immediately against the four pieces of toast and I switched to the jelly, spreading it on Conrad’s pieces first, I sliced the crusts off and cut it diagonally—just as he liked it. Then handed the pieces to him.
He smiled, taking them with a quick bite.
This is good. Not to be dramatic, but at least now I could prepare myself—both emotionally and physically—for her arrival.
Conrad took a large bite of his toast, then ripped off a square from the paper towel roll. “Good,” I said, finishing spreading jelly on my slices of toast. “That gives me plenty of time to get dressed and look presentable.”
“What do you mean? You always look incredible,” Conrad said, scarfing down the rest of his toast.
I glared at him. “It’s sweet of you to say that, but I’d rather not be in my cotton robe and coffee-stained slippers.”
He rolled his eyes, smiling as he bent to brush his lips to mine, his woodsy cedar scent surrounded me and as I opened my mouth to his, I tasted the lingering sweet strawberry jam clinging to his mouth.
“You always look beautiful,” he whispered. “But I understand.”
And while I was at it, I should probably put something on other than my usual summer uniform of a tank top and denim cutoffs. I had to look presentable. Mature. And responsible enough that she would feel comfortable with me spending time with her daughter.
A lot of time, preferably.
The doorbell rang and Gus charged at the door, barking ferociously. As though he would do anything other than lick the intruder once that door opened.
I took another giant glug of coffee before rushing to answer the door.
“Who the hell is that?” Conrad asked.
“I told Tom to come by with paint samples for the kitchen when he arrived.”
Chuckling, Conrad followed me down the hall. “Let me get this straight… you need to be showered and dressed and presentable for my ex, but Tom, the painter is free to see you in your skimpy robe?”
“That’s right.”
From behind his coffee mug, I saw Conrad’s grin. “Okay. That’s my girl.”
It was the first time I’d seen him smile since the whole debacle with Harper. Even though I knew it was fleeting, it gave me a brief surge of hope that things between the three of us would eventually be okay.
She couldn’t stay mad forever.
I whipped the door open, only, it wasn’t Tom standing there.
It was a woman.
Correction: A gorgeous woman.
“Good morning,” she trilled, her British accent lyrically beautiful. “I’m Meghan. Harper’s mother. You must be the Addison I’ve heard so much about.”
Meghan.
Conrad’s ex.
Harper’s mother. She was here.
Now.
And I was still in my robe and stained slippers.
“Meghan?” Conrad croaked behind me.
She looked like she was in her mid-to-late thirties. She had dark brown hair in a sleek bob. Hair that was so naturally silky and straight that not even an hour with a flat iron could tamemyhair to do that.
