Page 66 of A Daddy for Mother's Day

Izzie stomps towards her bedroom—or as much as she can stomp in her drunken state.

She gets into the room and tries to close the door on my face, but I don’t let her.

“I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re safely tucked into bed,” I tell her.

She huffs at me. She goes to flop down on the bed, but I reach out and pull her back up to standing vertical.

“Not happening,” I say. “You need to change into pajamas or you’re going to be bitching in the morning about how uncomfortable you were.”

I walk over to her dresser and find a matching set of pajama shorts and tank top. I hand them over to her and nudge her in direction of the bathroom.

She finally listens to me; she knows I’m right.

Ten minutes go by, and I’m about to go make sure she hasn’t passed out in there when she finally comes out. Dressed in the pajamas—backwards, I might add—she walks over to the bed and climbs on top.

I walk over to lift the covers over her.

“Goodnight, Izzie,” I tell her before moving away.

She doesn’t give me a response. As I reach the door, I hear her soft snores.

Before closing the room behind me, I take one last glance at Izzie. She’s angelic while asleep; her features are soft and free of any concerns or tension.

I sigh.

Get out of here, Brady.

I close the door and head to my own room. I doubt if I can even fall asleep after replaying that kiss in my head over and over. If I do manage to sleep, I’m likely to dream about it.

It’s going to be a long night either way.

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