I was still looking for his family, but less actively. The idea of him hanging around was beginning to grow on me. He seemed to want to be wherever I was; it was unusual, if not comforting. I’d grown used to having him nearby.
“I’ll be back soon, boy,” I told him, scratching behind his ear before I slipped out the door, closing it behind me and locking up.
I gunned it down highway 28 to the 401. It took me twenty-five minutes to get to Cobourg. I pulled up to the curb outside of my ex-girlfriend’s house, barely putting it in park before I jogged up the walkway, my eagerness to see Sawyer propelling me forward.
My knuckles rapped against the door, and it swung open a moment later. Cheryl stood in the doorway, her red hair hanging in a thick braid over her right shoulder, her green eyes boring into me with disdain. “You’re late.”
“By two minutes,” I retorted, cocking a brow.
She rolled her eyes, turning her head. “Sawyer! Your dad’s here!”
I heard my daughter’s footsteps as she raced down the hall from the living room, her blonde hair up in two braids over her shoulders, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. “Daddy!” she squealed, jumping. I crouched, catching her in my arms and lifting her.
“Hey, baby,” I said, hugging her. “How was your week?”
“Good!” Sawyer grinned, nuzzling into me.
“She’s got dance rehearsal tomorrow morning at eight,” Cheryl said, her lips thin. She held Sawyer’s bag for me. I reached out, taking it from her.
“I know,” I replied, setting Sawyer down so she could say her goodbyes.
“Her costume is in the bag. Please make sure you get it back to me in one piece,” she added spitefully.
“I will. Have a good weekend. We’ll see you on Sunday,” I responded, keeping my tone amiable.
“Bye, Mommy! Bye Baby Sis!” Sawyer said, pressing a kiss to her mother’s growing stomach. Cheryl smiled affectionately at her, and some of my internal irritation eased. She may be selfish and manipulative toward me, but she loved our daughter, and Sawyer was pretty stoked about getting a baby sister in four months.
I took Sawyer’s hand in mine, and we walked down the driveway to the truck. Opening the rear passenger door, I helped her climb into her seat, listening while she chattered happily at me about school and dance. I buckled her in and walked around to the driver’s side, stepping up into the cab.
“What do you feel like having for dinner?” I asked, turning around to look at her, my smile growing. For the first time in two weeks, I felt like I could breathe a little easier. I had my daughter back, and all was right.
“Pizza!” Sawyer exclaimed, her eyes widening with excitement. I nodded, recalling the pizzeria Gwen had suggested when she found out I was new to town.
I quickly looked up the number to the pizzeria and put in an order for pick up. Hanging up, I started the truck and shifted into gear, jumping onto the highway.
I parked against the curb outside of the pizza restaurant and walked around to help Sawyer out. She took my hand and peered up at me.
“Can we watch a movie when we get home?” she asked as I opened the pizzeria door with my free hand and held it for her.
“Sure, but first—” I said, ready to tell her about the dog. The words fell away when I looked up and saw a familiar red skirt and polka dot dress at the counter. Gwen turned her head, her eyes widening when they landed on me. She stood next to a tall guy with dark hair and brown eyes, and he touched her arm with familiarity.
Jealousy washed over me, but then I reminded myself that I had no business being jealous.
“Alaric, I see you’ve decided to hit up one of my recs,” Gwen said, and her dark-haired friend swiveled to look at me. He slurped from a can of Sprite through a straw, his eyes volleying back and forth from her to me.
“Yeah, I figured we’d try it out,” I responded.
“We?” Gwen hadn’t noticed Sawyer yet, but her friend had. He elbowed her discreetly at the same time I felt a tugging on the hem of my shirt.
“Daddy, can I get a pop?” she pleaded, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.
Gwen’s gaze dropped to her, and her mouth opened with surprise. She blinked a few times, her eyes moving from Sawyer to me and back again. Clearing my throat, I looked down, smiling patiently at my daughter. “Sorry, kiddo. No pop.”
“Chocolate milk then?” she bartered. Gwen smiled a little, her eyes catching mine, understanding dawning in her pewter irises.
“All right,” I gave in. Satisfied, Sawyer let go of my shirt and climbed on the long wooden bench by the door. Finally, I turned to Gwen. The guy she was with was still watching us with interest.
“Oh, this is my friend, Renly. Renly this is Alaric,” Gwen said quickly. I nodded, thrusting my hand out to shake his. My father used to say you could tell a lot about a man by how he shook hands. Renly’s grip was feather light, and given the way he swooned at my touch, the jealousy I’d initially felt evaporated.
Renly wasn’t a threat. Not that he should have been in the first place.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Renly remarked, earning a hard jab in the ribs from Gwen. She glared at him, and he grinned innocently.
“Nice to meet you,” I managed, doing my best to ignore the discomfort I felt at this interaction.
Sawyer kicked her legs, regarding Gwen and Renly with green eyes. “Hi, I’m Sawyer,” she said, her curious gaze landing on Gwen. “You’re pretty. You look like the lady on Daddy’s leg.”
“Aww, thank you, that’s really sweet. I think,” Gwen looked at me quickly. “It’s not a zombie tattoo, is it?”
“Pin-up girl,” I clarified with a grin. Sawyer was referring to the tattoo of a pin-up girl holding a welding gun on the back of my left calf. She had dark hair and red lips. I’d gotten it years ago and hadn’t drawn the same parallels as my quick-witted daughter. Of course, the damn thing was at the back of my leg, and I didn’t often see it.
But now that Sawyer had mentioned it, I could see the resemblance. It was very befitting of Gwen, and ironic, in a sense.
“Oh, well, that’s cool,” she managed, biting her lip a little. She appeared to be uncomfortable too, or maybe she just didn’t know what to say.
The whole situation had spiraled completely out of control. I hadn’t told her about Sawyer because I only counted on one night, maybe a repeat or two if I ran into her at the bar again. But now that we worked together, seeing her was unavoidable, and repeats were completely off the table. Which was unfortunate, because Gwen looked incredible in that dress.
“Williams?” the server called, standing behind the counter with two white pizza boxes and a paper bag. Gwen stepped up to the till and paid. She glanced at me over her shoulder once, immediately turning to look at the cashier when she caught me looking at her.
I stood aside to let them pass with their takeout. Renly held the door open, and Gwen paused, looking at me with indecision. She opened her mouth to say something, thought the better of it, and smiled.
“Enjoy your pizza,” she said politely—her voice an octave higher than usual—before she fluttered out the door.
“Can I help you?” the server asked, eyeing me with consideration.
“Yeah, I put in an order for pick up. Petersen.”
“Oh, right, I’ve got that right here for you,” she said, turning around to the metal warming shelves behind her. I’d ordered a cheese and pineapple pizza for Sawyer, who was the only kid I’d met who liked pineapple on her pizza, and meat lovers deluxe for myself.
“Can I get a chocolate milk, too?” Sawyer piped up, standing on her tip-toes to see over the counter.
“Of course,” the server said warmly, opening the refrigerator and grabbing an individual carton.
“Thank you!” Sawyer grinned brightly as she reached for the chocolate milk.
“Let’s not open it until we get home, all right?” I said, swiping my card through the reader. She nodded, eager to just hold it.<
br />
Gwen
“Holy shit, you didn’t tell me he had a kid!” Renly said, scandalized.
“I didn’t know,” I replied, glancing back over my shoulder at the pizzeria and worrying my lip. If he had a kid, did he have a wife, too? He didn’t wear rings, but that didn’t mean anything these days.
“Wow, though,” Renly sighed dreamily, reaching his car and looking at me over the top of it. “I don’t have ovaries, but if I did, they’d implode. He’s a fucking DILF, Gwen!”
“Tell me about it,” I grumbled, crotchety. My libido was out of control and seeing Alaric tonight in dad mode definitely didn’t help. It shouldn’t have been so seductive to watch him be a father, and I felt incredibly betrayed by my lady bits.
My womb had screamed put a baby in me so loudly that I was surprised Alaric hadn’t heard the damn thing. Of course, it didn’t have a voice, so that probably helped, but still. Bad uterus, bad.
Not that there was a chance in hell I’d listen to it. I didn’t feel like an adult myself yet and knew I wasn’t anywhere near ready for a kid. The idea of having something else that dependent on me made me want to break out into hives.
“But kids,” Renly pointed out, his nose wrinkling with disdain. “That can’t be very fun.”
“Definitely not,” I said, looking up as the pizzeria door opened again. Alaric held it as his daughter twirled onto the sidewalk in front of him, and it was all I could do to not let out a ridiculous, dreamy sigh of my own. I was fully aware that I was reacting the exact same way I had when I saw him with Tig.
Watching in the side mirror as Alaric lifted his daughter into his massive truck, my treacherous ovaries melted like butter.
Ren put on his blinker, jarring me from my reverie. He pulled from his parking spot, heading to my apartment. It was only a ten-minute drive, and within minutes of landing on my couch, we were diving into the pizza like we’d gone months without food.
Since reaching his ideal body weight, Ren didn’t usually let himself let loose like this, but even he couldn’t deny a slice from the pizzeria. Every time he came home, we indulged. But Ren would make me pay for it when he woke me up to hit the gym in the morning.
He took a huge bite of pizza and chewed, staring at it lovingly. “I will hate every part of working this off tomorrow, but damn it…it’s soothing my soul.”
“Tell me about it,” I sighed before taking another bite. “You’re a bad influence. I wasn’t supposed to eat fast food again until after Kelsey’s wedding.”
“Dieting?”
“Poor.” I laughed, sighing. “Turns out I sort of suck at managing my money. Or at least not blowing it on comfort food and impulse purchases in an attempt to make myself feel better.”
“I’m sorry,” Ren winced, setting down his slice.
“No, it’s all good,” I said to Ren. “I’m relieved I have an endless supply of cute outfits. They’ve been coming in handy lately.”
“Dress to impress, that’s what I always say,” he nodded in agreement. “Seems to be working, too.” His eyes twinkled.
“What are you talking about?” I laughed awkwardly.
“The man was practically undressing you with his eyes. It was hot.” Renly pointed out.
I shrugged, although, inwardly, I was squealing and tap dancing with excitement, and so very thankful to not be imagining his attraction to me.
I knew the faces he made when he was taking pleasure in something. I knew what he looked like when he was coming. I’d seen the heat pool in his eyes, and I knew he still wanted me.
He was just…fighting it.
I cleared my throat. “Well, anyway. I’ve started writing again. This story is just flowing right from my fingertips.” I shook my head, bewildered by it. I hadn’t had creative bursts like this in years. “When it’s done, I’m going to look into publishing it. You only live once, right?”
“Sounds like someone got a new outlook on life screwed into them,” he teased, giving me a goofy, crooked smile. He was happy for me, ecstatic even. Ren knew how much writing meant to me, and he knew that I put the pen down for months after Erik had stomped on my heart.
The night I met Alaric, I’d discovered something within the wreckage—a pulse. It was faint, but it was beating again. The numbness was gone, and I felt renewed. I poured my emotions into my manuscript, knowing that they could live there free and safe from the real world of disappointments and letdowns.
“Ha, but kind of…yes,” I said excitedly. I bit my lip, thinking about the manuscript. Two lonely people getting together for a single night of passion that gives them more than they bargained for. Maybe parts of it were inspired by our night together—the feral passion and fervent intensity of the night were easy to translate into passion between my characters, but this novel was a safe manifestation of desires I wouldn’t dare voice.
“I’m really happy to hear this,” Ren said, squeezing my hand. “I worry about you.”
“Well, you don’t have to, not anymore. At least not when it comes to that.” I waved my hand, mentally dismissing Erik from the narrative. “Fuck that tiny-dick asshole.”
“Hear, hear!” Renly laughed, toasting me with his pizza slice.
Alaric
As we walked from the pizza shop and toward the truck, my thoughts shifted from the encounter with Gwen to what was waiting at home.
I placed the pizza on the front seat before buckling Sawyer in and walking around to climb into the driver’s seat. I gave her a serious look through the rearview mirror before starting the truck. “You might notice something different about the house,” I told her, still watching her reflection in the mirror.
“What?” Sawyer asked, gazing at me with curiosity.
“Well, earlier this week, I had an unexpected visitor drop by, and he’s going to stay a little while,” I said.
“Who?”
“A dog.”
“A dog!” Sawyer repeated, her green eyes widening with excitement.
“Yep. A stray dog—a dog that lost his home. He came to me for help, so we’re going to find his family,” I told her, figuring honesty was the best policy.
“What’s his name?”
“Tig.” The name fell from my mouth before I could call it back, but I figured if the dog were sticking around, he’d need a name. If Sawyer got to name the dog herself, she could grow even more attached, and that’d make things harder for her if we found his family. Gwen’s suggestion fit him, too.
“What a silly name.” Sawyer giggled.
“Yeah.” I smiled, loving the sound of her laughter, feeling grateful to be able to hear it again. I turned, the engine rumbling to life with a twist of my wrist.
I drove slowly through town, appreciating the historic buildings and old, hometown feel before picking up speed once I’d reached 28. We continued driving down the country road, the silence broken up every so often with Sawyer asking questions about the dog.
She was practically vibrating with excitement when I pulled into the driveway and parked in front of the garage. Once I unbuckled her, she jumped from the cab.
“Come on, Daddy!” she said impatiently while I grabbed her overnight bag and the pizzas. She skipped ahead of me, dancing on the balls of her feet while I unlocked the door.
The dog was sitting exactly where I’d left him, in the entrance to the hallway. He tilted his big, black head, his tail wagging against the hardwood floor.
“Woah! He’s BIG!” Sawyer exclaimed, her eyes wide with uncertainty. She moved a little closer to my leg, intimidated by his size.
I set the pizzas down on the deacon bench and crouched, putting my hand on her tiny back. “Come here, Tig,” I instructed. Tig tilted his head but stood, ambling over with gentle, slow steps. “Hold your hand out, Sawyer.” I gently took her hand. Tig sniffed it, then licked her, his tail wagging the whole time.
She giggled. “It tickles!”
I let them get comfortable with each other for a few more minutes. When Sawyer w
as fearlessly accepting face kisses from him, I stood.
“Do you want to feed him?”
“Yes!” she shouted, clapping her hands together. Tig was unruffled by her exuberance, his gentle spirit shining.
Grabbing the pizzas from the bench, we headed into the kitchen, and I set the food down on the counter before walking into the mudroom. I picked up the scooper and showed Sawyer how to fill it with kibble from the massive bag I’d bought from the pet store.
She took over, pouring the kibble into the bowl, and again, Tig sat, gazing longingly between the food and me, waiting for permission. “Go on then,” I said, nodding once. Tig stood and dug in, his tail wagged. “All right, your turn, kiddo. Let’s go eat some pizza.”
She skipped from the mudroom, an ecstatic grin on her face. “I like Tig, Daddy!”
“That’s good.” I smiled at her, removing two plates down from the cupboard. Opening the first box, I put two small slices of pineapple and cheese pizza on Sawyer’s plate. I grabbed four slices from the other box and put two sticks of garlic bread on my plate and one on Sawyer’s.
We shifted to the dining room table, the old oak set my mother insisted that I took when I moved into this house. It was a lot bigger than my last place, and Mom said she had no use for it anymore, as she’d be joining us during the holidays.
Guilt rose when I thought about my mom, as it often did, only this time I felt guilty for not calling her back. After the dog showed up, things got a little hectic, and it slipped my mind. “We should call Grandma after we finish eating. I know she misses you.”
“Okay!” Sawyer nodded, taking a bite of her pizza.
Finished with his dinner, Tig meandered into the kitchen, his head turned toward us and his tail wagging. He curled up in front of the counter, a few feet away from the table. She watched him with fascination.
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