Mr. Always & Forever

by Ashlee Price

  Yes, it’s all his fault.

  Why does he have to show up now when I’ve already got this? Why does he decide to start acting like a father now?

  I grab the pillow beside me, hugging it to my chest and tucking it under my chin. As I do, my gaze rests on the pile of toys and books in the corner and on a wayward Lego block under the coffee table before landing on one of Alexa’s many pictures on the shelf.

  Who am I kidding? I haven’t got this. I never have and I often wonder if I ever will. And as for Conner just getting his father act together now, that’s really my fault since he only found out now.

  He took it rather well, actually.

  I always thought the day he found out about Alexa, he’d either not care, get mad at me for getting pregnant even though he was the one who didn’t use protection or deny it, deny her.

  Yet from the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew he was her father. He felt it. I saw it in his eyes. And he wanted to be her father.

  Remembering that teary look in his eyes, that smile on his face as he spoke to her in the hospital, I feel something clench my heart.

  I wasn’t ready for that. I suppose that’s why I gave in so easily when he asked to be a part of Alexa’s life. That and knowing Alexa deserves a father, needs a father. I did. I looked up to my father all throughout my childhood, and I know my life wouldn’t have been the same without him.

  It still isn’t, I think as I glance at the lone picture on the shelf that has me as a child with my parents and my little sister.

  Alexa needs her father, and now she finally has him. So, how could I kick him out the door?

  I pick the Lego block from beneath the coffee table, toss it into the box against the wall and get off the couch. I turn off the lights in the living room before heading into the bedroom and then the adjoining bathroom.

  Wiping my mouth on a hand towel after brushing my teeth, I remember that Conner doesn’t have a towel.

  Grabbing one from the top of the bedroom closet, I knock on the door to the other bedroom. When he doesn’t answer, I push it open and find him lying on his chest on the bed, asleep.

  I suppose he must be tired. He stayed awake most of the night watching over Alexa, refusing to leave until he was sure she was okay.

  Placing the towel on a chair, I go to the bed and pull the blanket over Conner so he doesn’t catch a chill. As I lean over him, I find myself staring at him, remembering the first time I saw him.

  Not at the office, but at the party when he asked me if I wanted a drink.

  He was dashing in his tux and his red-and-black mask back then. Just the memory of it makes my heart skip a beat.

  He’s still hot now. The past six years have done nothing to diminish those good looks. His lips still look kissable, his chin swoon-inducing, his broad shoulders grab-worthy, his backside still chunky.

  In spite of myself, I grin. Then I slap a hand on my forehead to scold myself.

  What am I thinking? I’m not a virgin anymore, so why am I acting like one? Again? Yes, technically, I’ve been celibate for the past six years, but I’m a mother now. I’m wiser now. After all that’s happened, there’s no way I’m having sex with Conner.

  Still, staring at his face, I can’t help but wonder how things would have been if only he hadn’t stolen my story. Would we have dated? Would we be happy now?

  He stirs, interrupting my thoughts, and before I can step back, his arm goes around me, pulling me into the bed and into his embrace.

  Panicking, I hit his arms, then slap him across the cheek as soon as he’s released me.

  “Ingrid?” He rubs his cheek as he sits up.

  “How dare you,” I tell him in a whisper through gritted teeth, my fists clenched at my sides.

  He glances around him, confused. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It was just habit.”

  “Habit again, huh? What a convenient excuse.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Well, I guess some things really never change.”

  He scratches his head. “What were you doing in my room anyway?”

  I grab the towel off the chair, tossing it at him.

  “One, this isn’t your room. It’s Alexa’s, in case you haven’t seen the name on the wall. Two, this is my apartment, so I can do whatever I want. Three, you damn well better behave or I’ll kick you out, regardless of Alexa’s opinion.” I hold a finger up. “Keep your hands off me.”

  “Okay.” He raises his hands. “Hands off.”

  Still seething, I march out of the room, passing through the bathroom where I stop by the sink to wash my face in hopes of helping my temper simmer down.

  Why, oh why, did I let those two talk me into letting Conner stay in my apartment?

  Already, I smell trouble.

  ~

  I smell bacon.

  The whiff of salty, fatty, honey-cured goodness hits my nostrils as soon as I step out of my room, making my mouth water.

  Stepping into the kitchen, my eyes grow wide as I see plates of bacon on the counter. Conner, wearing my apron, is standing in front of the stove.

  He turns around, smiling at me. “Good morning. I hope you don’t mind that I made breakfast.”

  I didn’t even know he could make breakfast.

  I rub the sleep off my eyes, still feeling that I’m dreaming.

  “Please sit.” He gestures to the stool. “Eggs are almost ready.”

  No, this isn’t a dream.

  I sit down, running my hands through my hair as I suddenly feel conscious about my appearance. I blow on my palm to smell my breath, then quickly put my hand away as Conner places a plate in front of me. Moments later, he places the plate of scrambled eggs on the counter and hands me a fork.

  “Dig in.”

  I set my fork down on my saucer. “You didn’t have to make breakfast, you know.”

  Conner shrugs. “I just thought it’s the least I could do since I’m staying here and all. Plus, consider it an apology for whatever I did last night.”

  I blush, remembering it, but dismiss it with a wave of a hand. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Right.” He lifts a mug. “Coffee?”

  “Please.”

  He pours coffee into the mug and places it in front of me.

  I wrap my hands around it, savoring the warmth. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He pours himself a mug, then brings it to the counter and sits on the stool across from me.

  “So, I was thinking…”

  I stop stroking my mug and look at him.

  “…that maybe we should work together on this assignment,” he finishes.

  I throw him a questioning look. “But we need a story each.”

  “Yes.” He nods. “So we need two stories, and we can work on them together.”

  I still don’t understand. “Why would we do that?”

  “It’ll be easier. You know, two heads are better than one.” He drinks a sip of coffee. “Plus, with our combined knowledge and contacts, we’ll be able to come up with two incredible stories which are more likely to get us the job.”

  I shake my head. “I still don’t follow. You’re saying that we should work together to get the job, but only of us can get the job.”

  “Better one of us than one of them,” Conner answers. “At least, whether it’s you or I who gets it, Alexa wins.”

  I tap the rim of my mug. I hate to admit it, but he does have a point.

  “Also, this way, you won’t have to worry about me stealing your story,” he adds.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Because I’m helping you write it?”

  “Because we’ll be helping each other,” he corrects. “We’ll be a team, not competitors. Or still competitors but still a team. You know what I mean.”

  I grab a strip of bacon off the plate, chewing on it. “Okay. But we’ll only help each other with research. You write your story. I’ll write mine.”

  He, too, gets a strip. “Fair enough. Though we can read
each other’s story when we’re done just to…”

  “I don’t think so.” I finish the strip of bacon and grab another.

  “Okay.” He wipes his fingers on a table napkin. “So, do you have any…?”

  He stops, his gaze drawn to something behind me.

  “Hey, kiddo,” he greets.

  Or someone.

  “Good morning.”

  “Conner!” Alexa runs over to him, giving him a hug.

  I frown. “Why don’t I get that kind of greeting every morning?”

  Alexa gives me a hug.

  I kiss the top of her head. “Good morning, sweetheart. Are you hungry? You’re up early.”

  “I’m excited.” She rests her elbows on my lap.

  “Because Conner’s here?”

  “Not just that,” she answers. “Because you promised you’d get me new sneakers today. You didn’t forget, did you?”

  Actually, I did. I pause at the realization.

  “I didn’t forget,” I lie.

  “So we’ll go buy new sneakers?” Alexa asks. “You know my old ones aren’t good anymore. And I don’t really like wearing those girly shoes to school.”

  I stroke her hair. “But sweetheart, you just…”

  “Why not?” Conner interrupts me. “If she needs sneakers, I’d be happy to get her a pair.”

  “Really?” Alexa’s eyes grow wide as saucers and she looks at me expectantly.

  Conner nods as he touches my arm. Once again, I’m defeated.

  “Okay,” I give in with a sigh. “We’ll all go to the mall to get you shoes.”

  Chapter Five

  Conner

  “There you go.”

  I pull on the shoelaces of the purple-and-pink sneakers Alexa picked, making sure they won’t come undone.

  “How do they feel?”

  She kicks her feet, then jumps on the floor, turning around before giving me a thumbs-up.

  “Perfect.”

  I smile, getting off my knees. “Glad you think so.”

  I gesture to the saleslady. “Excuse me. We’ll take a pair of these.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As the saleslady scurries off to get it, I sit on the bench beside Ingrid, stretching a shoulder.

  “Who knew shopping for a kid could be so hard?”

  She grins. “Oh, waiting for her to make up her mind is the easy part. Chasing her down and getting her to sit down and actually try something on is usually a lot harder.”

  I chuckle.

  “Although it’s easier now,” Ingrid adds. “You should have seen us doing this when she was three.”

  I would have if I knew about her, I want to say. Then again, I’m not sure. Would I have been ready then?

  Instead, I turn to her. “I should get you something, too.”

  Her blue eyes widen. “What?”

  I nod. “Yeah, a present, you know, to let you know I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  She waves her hands in front of her. “I didn’t do them for you, so no need.”

  “I want to, though.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Surely there must be something you want, something I can get you.”

  She shakes her head. “I…”

  “Mommy needs a new dress,” Alexa blurts out.

  Ingrid and I both look at her.

  “Alexa,” Ingrid scolds. “I do not…”

  “You’ve said so a lot of times,” Alexa points out. “You keep saying I have more dresses than you and that your old ones don’t look nice anymore.”

  “I do?” Ingrid asks.

  Alexa nods.

  Ingrid lifts her hands as she shrugs. “Wow. I didn’t know you had such a good memory when it came to these things. Aren’t you supposed to be remembering other things?”

  Alexa sits in between us. “I have room to remember a lot.”

  Ingrid strokes Alexa’s hair, shaking her head. “Oh, you sure are too smart for your own good.”

  “So, that means yes?” I ask her. “To the dress, I mean.”

  She shakes her head more quickly. “Really, you shouldn’t.”

  “I want to.” I get off the bench, offering Alexa my hand. “Shall we go get your mommy a new dress?”

  ~

  “You really shouldn’t have,” Ingrid says. We’re still discussing the matter as we stroll the mall about an hour after I got her the dress and minutes after we dropped Alexa off at an indoor playground.

  “Please.” I raise my hand. “I’m glad I did.”

  I really am. Seeing her in that black turtleneck dress that showed off her slender shoulders, clung to her breasts and tapered around her waist before flowing down, stopping just short of her knees, I felt smitten all over again. Granted, she still looked better—best—in that red cheongsam, but this dress was a runner-up, showing off her curves and taking my breath away.

  How can the mother of a five year-old be so hot?

  “Thank you.” She slings the paper bag over her shoulder. “And thank you for Alexa’s shoes. You didn’t have to buy her an expensive pair. She’ll outgrow them in no time.”

  “It’s fine,” I assure her. “I’ll just buy her a new pair when she needs it.”

  Ingrid shakes her head. “You’ll spoil her.”

  “I don’t think so.” I tuck my hand in my pocket. “I don’t think she can be spoiled. She’s a great girl. You’ve done a great job.”

  “Really?” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I often wonder if I’m doing good. Sometimes I feel like I have no clue at all what I’m doing.”

  “Really,” I tell her. “She’s amazing.”

  She’s smart. She’s sweet. She’s confident. She’s fun.

  “Both of you are,” I add, looking at her.

  As Ingrid turns her head in surprise, our eyes meet and I find myself drawn to those sapphire pools, helplessly drowning in them.

  She quickly looks away, though, wrapping her arms over her chest.

  “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen her throw a tantrum or me yell at her.”

  “What’s the most trouble she’s given you?” I ask. “Like the biggest mischief she’s ever gotten into?”

  “Hmm.” Ingrid touches her chin. “That’s a tough one, but I’d say it’s that time when she got into my make-up kit and got my lipstick and mascara all over her face, and a pillow.”

  I laugh, imagining it.

  “I didn’t yell at her, though. I couldn’t. She was too funny.”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I would have felt the same.”

  “Besides, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she cried because of how scary she looked,” Ingrid adds.

  “Really?” I chuckle.

  She nods. “So I felt that was punishment enough.”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  “Needless to say, she never went through my make-up kit again.”

  “Smart kid.”

  “Too smart.”

  “Nah.” I stop walking. “She’s just like her mother.”

  Ingrid stops, turning towards me, and just like before, her eyes create a spark in mine. Again, she looks away, blushing, walking faster as she rubs her arms.

  I keep up with her. “Are you cold? I can lend you my coat.”

  “No, thanks.” She stops rubbing her arms, reaching for her neck instead. “I just…”

  She stops walking.

  “What?” I ask her.

  “My scarf.” She places both hands around her neck. “My scarf is missing.”

  “It’s not in the bag?”

  She checks the paper bag and her purse, shaking her head. “I must have left it somewhere.”

  “At the restaurant, maybe?”

  She touches her chin. “No. I don’t think I had it there. The last time I remember I had it was…” She turns around, her gaze distant. “At the department store before I tried on the dress. I must have left it in the dressing room.”

  She walks off and I follow her, all the way back
to the department store. She heads straight to the women’s section and into the dressing room she used earlier.

  I follow her there.

  “Here it is.” She takes the scarf off the peg. “I knew…”

  I cut her off with a kiss, pushing her against the mirror as I become unable to restrain myself.

  For a moment, she doesn’t move. Her lips are frozen but soft beneath mine. Then she pushes me away, placing a hand over her mouth, her eyebrows pulled up in horror.

  As she runs off, I frown, tempted to punch the mirror as I realize what I’ve done.

  Damn.

  “Ingrid!” I chase after her, making my way through the aisles of clothes, the salesladies and the shoppers.

  She doesn’t stop, rushing on.

  “Ingrid, wait!”

  “Conner?” A voice calls my attention and I turn my head to see Leslie in one of the aisles, walking towards me. “What happened to you? You just left.”

  “I had work to do,” I tell her, glancing at Ingrid, who’s slowed down and is glancing over her shoulder. “I have to go.”

  “Wait.” Leslie clings to my arm. “How long are you staying in Boulder? Do you want to go to a bar again sometime? I know a few more good ones.”

  “Sorry,” I mutter, freeing myself from her grip and running after Ingrid.

  It’s too late, though. She’s running even faster now, disappearing in the crowd.

  I stop running, resting my hands on my hips as I catch my breath.

  Boy, am I in trouble now.

  ~

  “Just to be clear, I’m not with that woman, okay?” I explain back at the apartment as I sit beside Ingrid on the couch. Alexa is taking a nap in the bedroom, exhausted after her shopping trip. “I’m not with any woman.”

  Ingrid raises a hand, her eyes on the TV screen. “I don’t care, okay? It’s none of my business.”

  “And I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have sprung on you like that.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She nods, still not looking at me. “That was totally a violation of the hands-off rule.”

  I lean over to her to whisper in her ear. “Well, technically, I kept my hands off…”