The Hook-Up Experiment

by Emma Hart

  She snuffled a little before she rolled over and quieted.

  “Um,” Peyton whispered from the door. “I just went to get water and found this on the floor under the table.” She held up Briony’s beloved Cinderella doll, complete with ketchup stain in her hair. “She told me how much she loves her.”

  I took the doll from her and kissed her cheek. “Lifesaver.”

  She blushed and stepped out of the room, disappearing before I could even lay the doll in bed with Briony.

  I tucked her right in, kissed her head, and went downstairs after Peyton. I found her sitting on the sofa, cradling a bottle of water, completely enraptured with the live-action Beauty and the Beast.

  It was a strange sight, but I didn’t say anything. I hovered in the doorway and watched her.

  The TV flickered over her features, showing them off to perfection. The gentle curve of her lips and the slight shadow of her eyelashes whenever she blinked. The shadows of her lashes spread out like spiders legs across her skin, and I was mesmerized by how the shadows both shortened and lengthened with each and every blink.

  She reached up and tucked some hair behind her ear. One loose lock fell back against her cheek, but she ignored it, throwing her head back to laugh.

  Soft. Quiet. Genuine. It sent goosebumps across my arms, and I drew in the quietest deep breath I ever had.

  The TV flashed, and in that moment, my memory did the same.

  I saw the seventeen-year-old Peyton Marie Austen. Her hair wasn’t as long or curly. Her lips weren’t in that pink-plum lipstick she adored, and she looked like a baby version of the woman she was now.

  And for the first time in ten years, something struck me hard.

  Thank fucking God she ignored me. Thank God she never wanted to hear my reason for standing her up. Thank God in ten different languages that she kept her damn stubborn streak.

  If she’d listened to me, there was no chance that I’d be looking at her, sitting on my sofa, after spending the last three hours snuggling my daughter and humoring all her questions—and there were a lot of those.

  Peyton covered her mouth with her hand as another giggle escaped her, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  My phone pinged.

  She jumped, hand to her chest, and looked over at me. “How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough to see you laughing like a little girl at Lumiere.”

  “He’s funny!”

  I grinned and pulled my phone from my pocket. Lawrence’s name flashed in the message box, and my stomach dropped.

  The phrase no news was good news was true.

  He never had anything good to say.

  “Elliott? Are you okay?” Peyton’s brows pulled into a frown, and she reached for the remote.

  “I’m fine. I just—gimme a minute, yeah? I’ll be right in.” I took my phone to the kitchen and opened the message.

  Lawrence: Bethany and Vincent are not backing down. Hearing set for three weeks from tomorrow. Will call you tomorrow with specifics.

  I wished he’d waited until tomorrow to tell me anything at all.

  I let go of a long, heavy breath and sat on one of the chairs.

  Just like that, any good feelings I’d had while staring at Peyton like a lovesick puppy disappeared. Completely disintegrated. The space they left was filled with dread.

  The sick knowing that I’d done everything for the little girl upstairs, that the only thing I’d ever done for myself was go on that damn blind date, and someone wanted to take her away from me.

  I couldn’t even be righteous or forceful right now. A hearing date. That made it real. That was a real thing that was happening and signified the start of the single biggest fight of my life.

  How could I be thinking about Peyton and falling for her when I didn’t even know if I could keep the one girl in my life who was every cell in my body?

  “Elliott?”

  I looked up, hand rubbing over my mouth. Peyton stood in the doorway, grasping hold of the wooden frame with one pink-nailed hand. Her blue eyes were steady on me, but concern tightened her features.

  “Are you okay?”

  I could lie. I could tell her yes. I could tell her I’d never been better, and that it didn’t matter, there was nothing she could do or say even if it did matter.

  “No.” The word fell from my tongue so easily. “Not really.”

  She hovered there for a moment before she pushed off the door toward me. There was a click and the room filled with light. I didn’t even know it was dark in here. I’d been so consumed with my phone, I hadn’t cared.

  Peyton took the chair next to me at the table and rested her hand on my arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No,” I said honestly. “But I think I need to.”

  She lightly squeezed my arm. “Is it about the fight thing you said at my house?”

  I tilted my head and met her eyes. “Fight thing?”

  “Yeah. Right before you left, you said something about going into the fight of your life and that you couldn’t fight for me, too.”

  I winced. “That came out wrong.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. It depends on the fight. If the fight is to pay your electric bill, then I’d be pissed.”

  The sparkle in her eyes made me smile. It was tiny, but it was a smile all the same.

  Man. This wasn’t going to be fun.

  “Come sit in the front room. This is a long story.” I got up, taking her hand. She let me pull her into the room and drag her down onto the sofa next to me. “A few years ago, I met this girl. She was a great girl, and we started to see each other casually. We weren’t exclusive, but we reached a place where we were only sleeping with each other. About three months into that, she found out she was pregnant. There was no doubt the baby was mine because of the dates.”

  Peyton’s eyes were wide, but it wasn’t shock. She was simply listening to me and looking at me the entire time.

  “A couple months later, we broke up. The seriousness of the situation had hit us, and we realized that while we were great at being casual, a serious relationship didn’t work for us. She was too wild, and I was too controlled and possessive. She didn’t like it, so we called it quits. Nothing changed in terms of the pregnancy. I was there for every doctor visit and when she was born.”

  I looked down.

  “Then, one day, when I was at work when Bri was three weeks old, Jenna went to my parents’ house. She left Bri in her car seat with all her things, plus a diary. She told them she wasn’t cut out to be a mom, and everything I needed to know was in that journal.”

  Peyton moved closer to me, and without hesitation, took my hand in hers. Her fingers threaded between mine, long and slender and soft.

  “She relinquished parental control not long after that. Bri is one hundred percent mine. I tried to be the good guy and give her parents all that they wanted, but they never visited. They didn’t see her or care about her until a few weeks ago.” I met her eyes. “But they didn’t come to me. They went to their lawyer.”

  “Oh no,” she whispered.

  “Yes. They filed for full-time custody. They claim Jenna wasn’t in her right mind when she signed Bri over to me, and that she’d benefit more from being in a two-parent family over me alone.”

  “That’s bullshit.” Peyton touched her hand to my cheek and made me look at her. “You know that, don’t you? Jesus—I’ve met her twice, and one of those times, she was throwing up. You’re the best thing she could ever wish for.”

  I scratched at my chin and moved away from her to get up. “That text was my lawyer. The initial hearing is set for three weeks’ time. I won’t have to be there. It’s just a presentation of the case, but it’s such shit.” Both of my hands went into my hair and gripped it. “I never hid her from them. I never tried for one second to keep her from her biological family. Her so-called mom is the one who walked away, not me. She’s the one who wrote a fucking journal every day of her pregnancy and document
ed how much she hated it and Bri. I’m the one who stepped up and has done everything for her ever since she fucking left.”

  Fingertips. Against my back. They were so gentle.

  Peyton trailed her hand across my back until she was standing in front of me. Her ghost of a touch tickled across my hand, then she moved her hand up my arm, over my shoulder, up my neck, until once again, she was cupping the side of my face.

  “Elliott,” she said in a voice so soft it barely had any volume, “I don’t know what to say to you, but I know one thing. You’re the most amazing father to her. If anyone looks at you and agrees with her parents, they need to be fired and have all their licenses revoked. Briony needs you, and nothing will ever change that. You’ve had her for her entire life. She only knows you.”

  I looked down her, meeting the blue ocean that was her gaze.

  Her strong, steely, compassionate gaze that thumped me right in the chest.

  “In fact, she’s so strong-willed over talking to you through a damn door that if she ever had to leave, I have no doubt she’d break out of a maximum-security prison to find her way back to you. And she’s three. That’s some Disney princess shit right there.”

  I placed my hand over hers. “She doesn’t know, and she’ll never know. She’s never asked why she doesn’t have a mom because mine is so amazing to her, but that doesn’t make it easier. She’s mine. I have the papers saying so. But grandparents…they’re fucky rights, Peyt. They’re so grey they have more shades than that book series.”

  “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

  “Right. We’re not talking one paint sampler here—we’re talking an entire store’s worth on a good day.”

  “Stop,” she said softly, placing her other hand on my other cheek. “Stop this.”

  “I can’t. I—”

  “Elliott.” She closed the distance between our bodies until there was barely a breath between us. “I know you can’t. I know you won’t stop worrying about this, but as someone who’s seen you with her twice, there’s no way anyone with half a brain cell will ever take her from you unless it’s to feed some freaking ducks or something. She loves you, and you love her more than anything. If they’ve never seen her, I don’t see how they have a claim to custody.”

  “Neither do I, but that’s how this works. They get a fair shot and—”

  She pressed her lips to mine. “Stop,” she whispered, lips moving against mine with the short word. She pulled back, eyes full of the stubborn determination that once frustrated the hell out of me.

  Now? Now, it made me want to stop and listen to her.

  “Being angry won’t help anything. It doesn’t help you or your mom or your dad, and it sure as hell doesn’t help Bri.” She dropped one hand. The other slid down the sharp line of my jaw, and I swear she rubbed her thumb over the light stubble that coated my chin.

  “Did you just rub my stubble?”

  “Shut up,” she said quickly. “It felt good. Don’t judge me.”

  “No judging.” The barest of laughs bubbled inside me. “And for what it’s worth, you’re right.”

  She sighed. “Hearing that never gets old.”

  “Why? ‘Cause it’s a rarity?”

  She smacked her lips. Her glare was hot, but there was nothing really behind it. “Look. Fight of your life or not, I will be the next best thing.”

  Cute. She thought she wasn’t.

  “Let’s sit again. I promise not to get up again.” I pulled her to the sofa with me. She all but fell on top of me, but her ass hit the cushion next to me.

  Her legs were both hooked over mine. I stared at them for a moment in anticipation of her moving them, but she didn’t.

  She kept her legs over mine, her body close to me, and her hand on my arm.

  I rested my hand between her legs, halfway up her thighs, and exhaled slowly. “Rationally, I know the truth. I know she’s mine. I know there’s no reason to take her from me, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared. Who am I if I’m not her father, Peyton?”

  Chapter Seventeen – Peyton

  There was no greater force than love.

  Husbands. Wives. Siblings. Children. Friendships.

  Pizza. Wine. Orgasms.

  It was all relative.

  I didn’t have a chance to answer him. He was caught in a loop, one that reflected on everything he’d ever done as her father. I was by no means privy to his thoughts, but I didn’t need to be to know he was replaying almost every second he’d ever spent as her father.

  “What do I do if I don’t have to wake up at six a.m. to watch re-runs of Paw Patrol or Nella on Nick. Jr?” he asked the TV. “What am I supposed to do for breakfast if I don’t have to make chocolate toast with a banana and some grapes?”

  I had no answer to that.

  But, he had more questions.

  Fears. Anxieties. Nightmares.

  I set my hand on his firm forearm and, leaning back, looked at him. And listened to him. I sat while he let every single thought burst out of him like a firework display.

  Except this display didn’t boom in my ears—it boomed in my heart.

  “How do I do laundry without getting stains out of unwashable satin dresses? How do I do the grocery shop each week without wondering if she’ll want strawberry or chocolate milk this week before bed? Can I even tidy the front room without swearing because I stepped on some tiny plastic thing I don’t even identify with? Can I fill the dishwasher if I don’t have her plastic plates?

  “How would my trash look without fifty boxes of apple juice? Do I know what it’s like to buy cake an adult would eat? Or buy yogurt that doesn’t have some stupid character on the side? What would I do with the Trolls or Barbie or Disney undies in the wash? Not to mention the one million hair ties I find everywhere from the fridge to the back of the toilet.”

  “Hair accessories. The bane of women everywhere. The bobby pins multiply like socks lose their pairs,” I said.

  “Right. What’s up with the fucking hair slides? On Saturday, we have a pack of ten matching pairs. On Wednesday, Cinderella is sporting four unmatching ones, Bri has one set, and the rest have been taken by magpies.”

  “Never buy glitter or shiny ones. That’s a life lesson right there for you.” I tapped the end of his nose, mostly because I wanted him to look at me. “Honey, you won’t have to have any of those fears be your reality, ever. I promise you.”

  “You can’t promise me that, Peyton.”

  “You need a fake girlfriend? I can pretend we’re engaged or something, so the two-parent thing is negated.”

  His lips curved up. “I promise you, if you ever pretend you’re my girlfriend, you’ll stop pretending pretty damn soon.”

  “I think that’s a threat,” I said slowly. “But I’m not entirely sure. Are all threats bad?”

  “Are you trying to distract me?”

  “No. If I wanted to distract you, I’d do this.” I tugged the neckline of my tank top down, so he could see my cleavage in its full glory. “But, I’m not, so…”

  “Whoa, whoa.” He stopped me from releasing the fabric. “Don’t be drastic. I do need cheering up.”

  “Elliott Sloane, stop that.”

  “Stop what? Perving on you? Never.”

  I pursed my lips, but only because I was trying to hide a smile. I didn’t want to be that asshole, but there was a bright glint in his eyes. There was the unmistakable shine of happiness, even though the fear and desperation that obviously tainted him.

  Was I the cause of that? Did I bring that tiny smile even though the lines of frustration were still so furrowed in his brow?

  Maybe.

  Maybe I didn’t want to know, even now.

  Maybe I wanted to stop thinking, full stop.

  I leaned forward and touched my lips to his. “I have to go. I have a call at eight-thirty tomorrow.”

  “On your cell?”

  “Office phone.” I moved my legs, but his hand slapped from between my thighs to outside m
y right one, holding me locked in against him.

  “Bri wakes at six-thirty every day,” he said, eyes locked onto mine.

  “Congratulations. You created a living, breathing alarm clock.”

  He snorted. “Baby, do you need to go home?”

  Baby.

  I hated that.

  Was that why my heartbeat went funny at the sound of him saying it to me?

  “No.” It took me a minute, but I finally got it out.

  “So, stay. Bri will wake you up. She might make you watch her shows before you’ve had coffee, but that’s a price I’m willing to let you pay.”

  I leaned back, unable to control the half-smile my lips curled into. “Elliott, I can’t stay with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Every time we’ve stayed together, we’ve had sex.”

  “We stayed together last night and had an intervention the size of your brother between sex and sleep. By the way, the dildo thing? You never explained it?”

  Oh. God.

  “It was translucent and had a large…head. She thought it was a baby palm tree, and since my bathroom is blue…” I shuddered. “And yes, we did, but still. Sex.”

  Elliott’s eyes held mine in a heavy stare that said so many things but revealed nothing at all. “Peyton, we’re not having sex tonight.”

  “We’re not?”

  “No. You could fall asleep right now and not wake until midday, but we’re not having sex tonight.”

  My lips were dry. “Why not?”

  His fingers were rough. They trailed across my temple to my hairline. Into my hair and the sweeping motion that tucked my hair behind my ear. His eyes followed that slow, smooth movement until his hand had dropped back into his lap and our gazes had collided.

  “Because, if we have sex tonight, I don’t have a reason to ever see you again.”

  His words sent a shiver down my spine.

  We’d had sex twice.

  One more time.

  One more, and we were done.

  We’d never have to see each other again.

  I’d never have to see the guy who never really broke my heart ever again.

  I’d never watch princess movies with the cutest girl ever. I’d never eat pizza with him. I’d never watch him wander around shirtless. I’d never see him yell at me for how he felt.