by Lex Martin
Ethan clears his throat, still not looking at me. “Cody’s with Logan. They’ll be back soon.”
Hugging Mila, I ask her if she’s hungry, but all she does is sniffle.
When Ethan finally turns and we make eye contact, I mouth, “I’m so sorry.”
God, I am. Sorry for not coming in the house last night when he suggested it. For not getting up earlier this morning. For opening my mouth around Allison.
Let’s not forget the underwear.
Hot shame burns my skin as this morning replays on fast-forward through my mind.
Ethan gives me a tight-lipped shake of his head, and I’m not totally sure what it means, but I do know this family has been through too much this morning to worry about me. He might fire me as soon as he’s done with his cup of coffee, and that would hurt, but I’d understand.
Right now, though, nothing is more important than cheering up the little girl in my arms, so I swallow back the thick knot of embarrassment.
“Mila, baby, how do you feel about Mickey Mouse pancakes? Someone recently reminded me that pancakes always make everything better. Think you might want to help me whip up a batch?” It takes everything in me to keep my voice light. To pretend I’m okay. To focus on her instead of my own bruised pride.
She perks up in my arms and nods. “Yeah, I can help. Can I stir the batter? I like stirring the batter.”
There’s my sweet girl.
Ethan gives me a half-smile.
I’ll take it.
Ethan
The morning is fucking awkward. Blue balls aside, that is.
And while I’d love to pull Tori aside to apologize, she’s getting my daughter to smile for the first time since she got home from her mother’s, and I’d do almost anything to help Mila forget all the crap her mother screamed at me.
Tori’s sweet voice fills the kitchen as she ignores all the embarrassing shit that went down an hour ago and makes my daughter breakfast. As they’re serving it up, the front door opens, and Logan strolls in with Cody.
Pulling up a bar stool next to me, he whispers, “Medusa gone?”
I nod and sip my cold coffee before I reach for Cody. He’s a mess. Dried spaghetti sauce on his chin. Crusty God-knows-what on his clothes. Dinner from last night.
“Hey, stinker. Want some pancakes?”
My son claps and gnaws on his fist. I’ll take that as a yes.
“Tori, would you mind plating up something for Cody?”
“Coming right up.”
I’m a mess of frustration and anger, but watching Tori teach my daughter how to flip pancakes dials me down a notch, especially when Mila squeals with delight when she almost misses the pan.
My brother hangs around until we put the kids down for a nap. By then, I think I’ve figured out what I need to do.
When I reach Tori’s room, she’s sitting on the bed, her hair pulled up into a messy bun.
I rap my knuckle on the door frame. “Got a second?”
Her whole body tenses, but she looks up at me and nods. Without any makeup, it’s easier to see the shadows under her eyes.
You kept her up all night, asshole. And then slept out in the truck. Of course she’s tired.
“May I?” I point to her bed. When she nods again, I sit next to her and rub a hand over my face. “Not sure where to start here except to thank you for cheering up Mila. You could probably tell she heard her mom and me arguing.”
“No worries.” She blows out a deep breath. “I feel pretty responsible for what happened, so it’s the least I could do.”
It takes me a second to absorb what she’s saying. “You can’t be serious.”
“I was the reason you were out there this morning.” Her slender hands twist in her lap. “Then I had to open my big mouth and ask about making the kids breakfast when I should’ve kept quiet.” Groaning, she turns and buries her face in the comforter, mumbling something about her underwear.
Smiling, I rub her back. “You’re a sweetheart, you know that? And there’s nothing about last night or this morning that you should be embarrassed about. I’m the one who tracked you down at that bar and force-fed you carbs until you were putty in my hands. What can I say? I’m hard to resist when I break out the big guns.”
When she peeks over at me, I lift my arms and flex.
Her shoulders shake with laughter, and she rolls over onto her side. “Pretty confident there, aren’t ya, stud?”
How is it that she can look this beautiful in sweats and a t-shirt? “Just messing with you.”
Those big hazel eyes study me, and she gives me a shy smile. “I sorta like when you mess with me.”
Not sure why everything is so easy with this woman. I’d have never guessed this was the case when we first met.
Damn. That makes this even harder.
I look away, needing to keep my wits about me, and Tori makes it difficult to concentrate. Not to mention the sexual frustration that’s had me almost crawling out of my skin since we met.
“So, I, uh… need to ask a favor.”
When I glance back at her, she’s nodding. “Of course.”
Swallowing, I motion toward her. “Listen. I had a great time with you last night.”
God, I hate this.
The smile on her face fades.
“But?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
“But Allison leveled me with some pretty serious shit out there today. Like threatening to petition for custody of the kids when I know damn well she doesn’t want them.”
“Are you serious?” She sits up, her face reflecting the riot of emotions I’m feeling.
“Yeah. She wants me to fire you.”
“I’m not surprised.” Tori’s shoulders slump. “I understand needing to make your kids a priority, and if that means you need to find another nanny, I promise I won’t take it personally.”
I reach for her and pull her to my side. “I’m not firing you, babe. I told Allison she’d need a court order to make me do that, so unless you really did get arrested for snorting coke off a hooker’s tits back in the day, I think we’re okay in that regard.”
She chuckles and leans into me. “So… then?”
“So until I can see what Allison’s gonna do, what she’s gonna level at me on Tuesday at the courthouse and the fallout of what happened today, I think we should put what’s going on between us on the back burner. I need to talk to my attorney and figure out how to deal with her demands in a way that won’t set her off. I can’t have her freaking out in front of the kids again.”
Tori shocks me once more, wrapping her arms around my waist in a tight hug. “Whatever you need. I know Mila and Cody come first, as they should.”
I kiss the top of her head, hating that I probably shouldn’t even do that, but holding her is heaven, and the comfort of having her in my arms is overwhelming. “I’m so sorry,” I mumble in her hair. “I want you to know I really like you. I like being with you. Hanging out.”
Those words feel sorely inadequate, though I’m not sure how to phrase what this woman makes me feel.
“I like you too, Ethan.” Her chest rises in another heavy sigh. “But I understand.”
That’s good, because I’m not sure I do.
Tori
Cody tugs on my shirt, and I nearly fall out of my flip-flops. I don’t know why I’m so jumpy. I’m not the one getting divorced today.
Poor Ethan was a wreck this morning. Spilled his coffee all over his slacks and had to change. I guess his nerves are rubbing off on me.
Since our chat on Sunday morning, we haven’t had any more heart-to-hearts, nothing beyond a soft smile over dinner or a hug when I bring him lunch. Mostly, he’s been working his ass off in the barn to make up for the time he and Logan had to take off today to go to court.
I can’t lie—I miss the intimacy we’d started to build before Sunday morning brought everything crashing down. He’s pulled back, and while he explained why he needed to do that, it’s difficult
not to feel a little hurt.
“Want a sandwich?” I ask Cody as I brush his blond hair off his forehead. If I cut it into small squares, he might eat it this time instead of just tearing it apart and gobbling up the lunch meat.
He blinks up at me with his daddy’s blue eyes and gives me a big toothless grin. “Sammich.”
“You got it, buddy.” I grab the bread and a few plates. “Mila, are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
When she doesn’t say more, I turn to watch her coloring at the kitchen table. She’s been coloring a lot lately, ever since she heard her parents arguing Sunday morning.
Last night, Ethan mentioned that he was going to explain to her what was happening today, so I know she might be feeling emotional.
After I make the kids lunch and seat Cody in his high chair, I lean over to see what Mila’s coloring.
“That’s so pretty. Is it for your dad?” She’s drawn a horse and an enormous butterfly.
“Yup.”
“He’s going to love it.”
She doesn’t say anything and barely touches her sandwich.
“Honey, are you sad about today? It’s okay if you are.”
Tears start tumbling down her cheeks, and I pull her into my lap. “Yeah, I’m sad. Re-re-realllllly sad.”
My heart crumbles into a million pieces as I rock her gently. “It’s okay to cry about it, to me or your dad. To your momma too. We all love you, and it’s good to talk about how you’re feeling with people who love you.”
When Mila and Ethan spoke last night, he told me she hadn’t wanted to discuss it. Just kept nodding and acting like the divorce wasn’t a big deal.
It obviously is.
Mila hiccups and holds me tighter. “Momma says she doesn’t want me living with Daddy any-any-anymore.”
As much as I’m struggling to not voice anything derogatory about Allison, I don’t think it’s healthy to turn kids against their parents.
“Sweetheart, she’s just upset, okay? I’m sure she’ll work things out with your dad.”
She nods. “I wanna st-st-stay here. With you and Daddy.”
“And he wants you here. I’m sure once everything settles down, it’ll be okay. Your daddy loves you so much. He’d move mountains to be with you.”
“I wish it was like it used to be. Like in our pictures.” She sniffles, and I grab a napkin and help her blow her nose. “Except I want you here too.”
Mustering a smile, I wipe away a few of my own tears that escape. “If your momma was here, you guys wouldn’t need me to help out, but I understand what you mean.”
I consider the family photos on the mantel in the living room and can’t help wonder what happened to Ethan and Allison to bring them to this point.
Although Allison seems like she very much wants this divorce, she sure leveled a shitload of acrimony my way when she found me with Ethan. She screamed at me like I was the other woman. Like I was responsible for breaking up her family.
Which makes me wonder if she still loves Ethan.
Or if there’s a part of Ethan that still loves her.
After a few more minutes of holding Mila, I sit her in her chair. “Know what always cheers me up? Decorating cookies. Do you think you’d like to help me make some? You can help me stir.” I really shouldn’t feed these kids so much sugar, but I’m at a loss for how to get her out of this funk. I make a mental note to figure out more craft projects.
“Can we do different color icing?”
“Yup. And we can do different shapes too.”
“Can we make Daddy some too?” She sniffles and smiles, pausing to wipe her nose on her arm. Okay, gross.
“Sure can.” I reach for a wet wipe to clean off the snot.
After we set up all the ingredients for the cookies, I pin her drawing to the fridge with a magnet.
When I turn back to Mila, she motions me closer. Leaning close, she points to her drawing and whispers in my ear, “You’re the butterfly.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “Butterflies are my favorite.”
Aww. “Thanks, babe. You and Cody are my favorite.”
She whispers solemnly, “What about my daddy? Is he your favorite too?”
That’s an easy answer. “Absolutely.”
Probably more than I’d care to admit.
An hour later, I’m writing the directions down as quickly as possible, but Beverly’s zipping through the recipe faster than I can write.
Pushing the phone higher with my shoulder, I hum into the receiver. “Wait, so you use ice water?”
“Oh, yes. The colder you get the ingredients before you roll it, the better. Otherwise, it’ll get sticky. I also roll out the ball of dough between two large sheets of plastic wrap so you don’t have to peel it off a counter. Way easier.”
“You’re a genius. My crusts never come out right, but I’m going to try this. Baking is tougher for me, so I appreciate the tips.”
“Be sure you send me a picture.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Of my crust?”
“Heck, yes, girl. Gonna be checking your work.”
She’s snickering into the phone, and I’m shaking my head. “The pressure!” I joke. The front door opens, and my pulse kicks up. “Hey, I think Ethan’s home.”
When he enters the kitchen, my attention snags on how handsome he looks in a suit. Damn, he cleans up nicely. Except when we make eye contact, his grim expression makes my stomach clench.
“It’s your mom.” I motion to the phone, my heart sinking when he shakes his head because he always takes her calls.
Logan walks up behind him, slaps him on the back, and tells me they’ll be in the back office.
I nod, watching the brothers disappear down the hall.
“Um, Beverly, can he call you back later?”
She’s quiet. “You have my number now. Call me if you or my son need anything.”
“Yes, ma’am. I sure will. We could FaceTime this week if you want so you can see the kids. They miss you.”
Logan set up his mom with an iPhone before she left, but they haven’t had a chance to video chat yet.
“Thanks, Tori. I appreciate it. And thank you for looking out for my son. He’s told me what a great job you’re doing there, taking care of the kids. Taking care of him.”
“It’s my pleasure.” And it has been.
When we’re off the phone, I do my best to keep myself busy in the kitchen even though I’m dying to know what happened today.
Is he upset his marriage is over? He doesn’t seem like he’s pining over Allison, but it’s not like I knew them as a couple. Maybe they always argued.
It’s none of your business, Tori. If Ethan wanted to tell you, he would.
My heart aches at the prospect. It’s true. I’m not entitled to know anything. I’m just a babysitter. Not his girlfriend. Certainly not anyone he needs to confide in.
I’m chopping vegetables for a stew when his voice cuts through the silence.
“Hey.”
I clutch my chest. “Damn, you scared me.”
Ethan grabs a cup of coffee and pulls up a chair. “Sorry ’bout that.”
When he sits next to me, I catch a whiff of alcohol coming off his breath. Maybe tequila.
“You okay?” I ask gently.
“No.” He rubs his bloodshot eyes as his brother joins us.
Logan slides a notepad across the table to his brother. “Let’s list everything. How much she invested. How much you’ve paid her already. The balance. How we can make up those funds and pay the bitch back.”
“Stop calling her that.” Ethan grabs a pen and begins scribbling on the paper. “What if Mila hears you?”
“I just can’t believe her crap.” Logan’s grumbling trails off.
I look between the brothers, not sure what to say.
Logan must see the question in my eyes. “Allison wants us to pay back the two-hundred-thousand-dollar investment her parents made on the ranch.”
<
br /> “Okay.” I guess that happens when people get divorced, right? They split up assets?
“In one lump sum.”
“Damn.” Yeah, that sucks.
“But it gets worse. She claims it’s so she can be financially stable enough to petition the court for part-time custody of the kids, which”—he lowers his voice—“we all know is bullshit because she can barely handle them four days a month. Our attorney didn’t want to challenge her on that rationale because doing so might make us look bad in the eyes of the judge. He said that since Allison already agreed to let Ethan have the kids for the time being, there’s no point stirring that pot.”
Logan explains how Ethan provided spousal support for the last year as payment on that investment from her parents in a show of good faith. He didn’t technically owe her alimony because they hadn’t been married ten years, which is one of the requirements for spousal support in Texas. “But Ethan being Ethan, he wanted to help her out because he’s a good guy.” Logan groans and shoves his hands through his hair. “We have three weeks before we have to go back to court and settle this.”
Ethan seems lost in thought. “It was the right thing to do. She’s the mother of my children. I couldn’t let her starve. It’s not like Allison had the chance to build any kind of career while she was living here.” He gets up suddenly, his chair scraping across the floor. “I know her family has money, but it’s not her money.”
Fists tight, shoulders rigid, he shakes his head, stalking around the kitchen before reaching for a beer in the refrigerator and slamming it shut.
All of the glass rattles.
Whoa. I’m not expecting his fierce tone or the anger radiating off him right now, especially after how Allison spoke to him on Sunday.
With a loud smack to the bottleneck of the beer to the edge of the counter, Ethan pops off the metal lid, which rolls around on the floor.
Although the bartender in me is impressed, the haunted expression that flashes on his face before he gazes out the kitchen window tugs at my heart.
I clear my throat. “Do you, uh, do you guys need some privacy? I can head to my sister’s house if you want.”