The more I was around her, the more I wanted to be around her. I couldn’t see that changing anytime soon no matter how many times I told myself to squash it. She just kept doing little things that got under my skin—things she probably wasn’t even aware she was doing.
The way she tucked her thick, glossy hair behind her ears, fuck, it made me want to run my hands through that hair almost as much as it made me want to gently kiss those earlobes. The way her hand flew to her mouth when she was surprised, which of course made me ache to press my lips to that mouth.
And the way the corners of her eyes softened every time she looked at Olive, making me want to stare into those eyes forever.
All of these were things I seemed to have no control over. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to gain control. Control was just maddeningly out of reach.
But, hell. That was the question: had I really tried? Deep down?
No. probably not. Because the honest to God truth was that I liked losing myself in her. No matter how much my brain kept telling me to rein it in, every other part of me was urging me to let loose and surrender control. Because losing myself in her wouldn’t be losing myself at all. It would be finding the truest version of me.
Fuck. I let out a shaky breath, ran my unsteady hand through my hair. I didn’t know what I was going to do tomorrow, or next week, or next year. I’d worry about that when the time came. But I knew what I was going to do tonight. I was going to invite her to stay.
It wasn’t like I was going to make a move on her, I reasoned. There’s nothing inappropriate going on, and there won’t be. Hell, Olive will be asleep right up these stairs, plus a thousand other reasons.
But, even though it wasn’t like I was going to jump her, I knew that asking her to stay for a drink was not a smart move. The thing was—I didn’t give a fuck. Not in that moment.
Right then, all I could think about was not letting her go. Not even for the night. I wanted to sit across from her, study her intoxicating face, look into those intelligent eyes and watch the world going on behind them.
I wanted to hear her voice, and hear her thoughts. Damn, I just…I wanted to be around her.
It had been so long since I’d felt like this that I’d wondered if that part of me was just dead forever. If it had died with Jen. But, no. It hadn’t. Or if it had, Evelyn had brought it back to life. She’d brought me back to life.
God. The thought I’d had when I watched her onstage, that she was magic…I’d had no fucking idea how true that was. In fact, I probably still didn’t. But I was beginning to realize it, and with that came both excitement for finding out more, and fear of what could happen if I lost her.
Chapter 15
Evelyn
NICK CLOSED THE door softly and we tiptoed away. Nothing worse than a four-year-old cranky from being woken up. I’d figured that out pretty quickly from on-the-job training.
As we padded down the staircase, Nick said, “Damn, it’s late. Sorry about that. I lost track of time.”
“Well, The Little Mermaid is pretty engrossing,” I teased. “Keeps you guessing, right up until the last second.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess. The first couple hundred times you see it, anyway.”
I was just reaching for my purse and turning to say goodnight when his voice interrupted. “Can I maybe make you a cup of coffee before you go?”
The question sent such a tremble through my fingers that my purse strap slipped right through them, sending the contents of my bag clattering all over the entryway tile when it hit the floor.
We froze in place, like people who’d just seen the red numbers on the timepiece countdown mechanism of a bomb and were waiting with bated breath to see if those numbers were going to start digitally counting down to doom, or soldiers who’d just realized they stood smack in the middle of a minefield and weren’t sure which way was safe to step.
After several seconds of silence, we relaxed. I breathed a sigh of relief that it hadn’t been my own clumsiness at the idea of spending time with Nick that would’ve, ironically enough, been the thing to burst that bubble.
I turned my head and looked back at him, and he was grinning widely at me. “Maybe you don’t need any caffeine,” he joked. “You seem a little jumpy.”
“No, I’d like some coffee. It would be good before the drive home.”
That was the lamest excuse ever for accepting the offer. The campus was a ten-minute drive away at most, and that was only if Arcata was experiencing their version of “bad traffic.” Still, I couldn’t exactly say something like, “Yes, please. I’d like some hot coffee. And maybe a little bit of your hot bod for good measure.”
I put my purse down on the entryway table, being exceptionally careful to make sure it didn’t tumble to the ground and create a repeat performance. This was my first chance to spend any one on one time with Nick (any sober one on one time, at any rate) and I wasn’t going to fuck that up.
As the coffee brewed and that rich aroma filled the air, I couldn’t help but revel in the feeling that suffused me. I couldn’t really put a finger on it, but it was something like coziness. Like what I’d thought before, about this feeling like home. I had a deep sense of belonging here, and Nick was part of that.
“How do you take it?” Nick asked, pouring the dark brown, steaming liquid into two mugs.
“Black,” I responded immediately. Of course, it was a total lie. The truth was, I took it with so much cream and sugar that it tasted more like a Werther’s Original hard candy than anything resembling coffee. But I couldn’t admit to that. Not to Nick. I wanted to impress him.
He smiled as he handed me the mug and I got the distinct impression that he saw right through my lie. And, hey. The joke was really on me, anyway, because now I was going to actually have to down this whole bitter mug’s worth of java.
We settled in on the couch and the feeling of coziness and contentment returned.
So did my nerves, stretched–rubber-band taut.
Being this close to Nick on the couch, the lights down low, hands cupping the warm mug…it felt like every romantic-slash-domestic fantasy I’d ever had growing up.
I was living the dream, baby.
“So, do you have a lot of brothers and sisters?” Nick asked.
“No. Only child.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s surprising.”
“Why’s that?” I teased. “Because I don’t seem spoiled and self-centered enough? I could work on it.”
“No,” he chuckled. “Because you’re so great with Olive. I just assumed you must’ve grown up taking care of younger siblings.”
I pressed a hand to my heart, which had melted a little at his statement. “Well, it’s not hard to be good with Olive.”
He grimaced. “You’d be surprised.”
“What are you talking about? She’s awesome!”
He leaned back into the cushions. “I agree. She is.” He paused and I let the silence hang between us. Finally, he reiterated, “She is awesome. With me. And now with you. But she isn’t like that with everyone. You have no idea how many nannies and babysitters I went through before she connected with you.”
I wrinkled my forehead. This just didn’t add up. “I don’t understand. I’ve seen her get cranky if she’s late for a nap. Sometimes a little pouty if I make her eat her veggies, or tell her to come inside because it’s getting dark or something like that. But I can’t even picture her throwing a ‘devil child’ fit, like the kind of thing that would make babysitter after babysitter throw up their hands and quit.”
“You’re right, she’s not like that at all. It wasn’t a bad behavior problem. It was more like a no behavior problem.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
He nodded and for a second, he seemed very far away. “You have to understand how tough it was for Olive after her mom, Jen, died. How tough it was for me, too.”
I swallowed hard around the lump that had suddenly formed in my thr
oat. I’d grown so attached to Olive—and to Nick, when it came down to it—that the thought of them in that kind of pain tore my heart apart.
He took a deep, shaky breath and continued, “Jen was her rock. Her foundation. I was working all hours, trying to build my clientele. Some days I left before she woke up and got home after she was asleep. Most days, maybe. Now that I think about it. Jen was with her day in and day out.”
My hand twitched, itching to reach out and rest on his arm, but I held back. “You sound like you have some regrets.”
He let out a wry bark of a laugh. “I have almost nothing but.”
Oh, man. I knew this was a heavy conversation and I should be concentrating solely on the content of it, but I was really struggling with the urge to lean forward and wrap my arms around him. In fact, it was taking almost everything in me to resist. When I spoke again, my voice had a rasp to it. “I think you’ve done a great job with her. I can’t think of a better dad.”
He smiled. “Thanks, Evelyn. That means a lot. I’ve gotten better. But there was a long time there after Jen’s death that it was all I could do to get myself out of bed every morning and keep breathing until I fell into bed again at night. I was on autopilot. I never dropped the ball, I guess. Not in a way that anyone could see from the outside. She was always fed, always clean. But I was a shell of myself.”
“That’s understandable.”
“But not excusable. Not to me, anyway. I was asleep at the wheel. I should’ve noticed that she needed something I wasn’t giving her. That the fact that she was going through her days like a zombie…like me…wasn’t normal. Instead I was…”
He trailed off, and when he didn’t finish, I filled in. “Grateful.”
His head snapped up, his eyes met mine. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I didn’t know how to say it. But, yeah. I thought it meant that she wasn’t affected. That she’d been too young for it to really sink in. Not to mention, I wouldn’t have known how to handle anything else. So, yeah. I was grateful.”
“That seems so natural to me. You were drowning. Of course you’re not going to go looking for more water to swallow.”
He smiled a little. “Thanks.”
“It’s true.”
“Anyway. Time went on. Months. Years. And she never really snapped out of that zombie phase. Not in a creepy way. She’d talk. To me, or other people she already knew. But she wouldn’t trust anyone, especially women. The ladies who tried to babysit her…she’d just ignore them. I mean…hardcore ignore them. Pretend they weren’t even in the room.”
Damn. Talk about committing. And she was only four! Maybe Olive had the makings of a future actress.
“Wow. I find that hard to even picture. She was so open with me. And right away, too.”
He looked right into my eyes again, and my breath caught. The energy between us grew electric. If it had been any other situation, any other guy, I would’ve sworn we were about to kiss—and oh, God, how I wanted that. I wanted it so much.
But even though he didn’t kiss me, the words he spoke hit me almost as hard as a physical touch would’ve. In a low, intense voice—and without ever breaking eye contact—he said, “I know, Evelyn. That was the first thing that showed me how special you are.”
I could barely breathe. “The first thing?” I whispered.
His lips curled up in a small smile. “Yes,” he said softly. “The first of many.”
Chapter 16
Evelyn
I CLOSED THE door softly, pausing at the last moment to get in one more glance at Olive. I couldn’t help but smile. Her rust-colored curls were spread out across her pillow as she slept, and her breathing was deep and peaceful. A sliver of moonlight fell across her bed, and I couldn’t help but think that the image was like heaven’s way of shining a spotlight on the sweet girl, showing her for the angel that she was.
I only wished I felt as peaceful as little Olive did.
Who am I kidding? In this house, that’s never gonna happen.
I’d been giving the advice I’d gotten from the girls a lot of thought over the past couple of weeks. In fact, I’d been giving a lot of thought to everything to do with Nick and my unrequited crush on him, including the conversation we’d had the last time I was here.
In fact, I thought calling it a “crush” was too juvenile. Too childish, too shallow. A crush was something you could have on a celebrity, someone you’d never even met or had a conversation with. That wasn’t what I felt for Nick. I’d come to realize that my feelings for him ran deep, right down to the core of my soul. I thought about him all the time, and I’d do anything for him. I’d sacrifice anything to help him.
I loved him. That was the simple fact of it, and I had to admit it to myself.
I sometimes wished that they hadn’t given me the advice they had, to just let my feelings run free because it would be worth it—but, in reality, it probably hadn’t made any difference. My feelings had already been gaining strength and pushing against the bars I’d tried to impose around them. It was a matter of time until they Hulked their way through whether I consciously let them grow or not. They had a mind of their own.
My heart clenched in my chest. The whole line of thought was pointless, anyway. Whether it was love or just a crush didn’t change the “unrequited” part, and that was the part that sucked.
I wandered around the living room, studying the photos Nick had hanging on the wall. On the occasions where I’d watched Olive at night instead of in the afternoon, studying the photos on Nick’s wall had become my ritual, the first thing I did after I put the sweet little girl to bed at night.
Almost all of the photos were of Nick and Olive, from the time she was a baby up until now. There were formal portraits and casual snapshots on trips they’d taken. There were also plenty of photos of Olive by herself.
It was clear to see, judging only by the selection of photographs Nick chose to display, what his priorities were. Olive was what was important in his life. Everything else revolved around her.
My stomach twisted. God, it was what made me love him like I did.
Out of all the photos though, there was one that was my absolute favorite. It’d been taken when Olive was just a few months old. Nick was holding her in his arms, his elbow supporting her head which was already dusted with fine, copper-colored duck fluff that hinted at the gorgeous auburn curls her hair would develop into.
In the picture, her arms were flung outward with abandon, and she looked up into Nick’s face with an expression of pure joy.
Although that was super cute, it wasn’t the part that made it my favorite. No, that was the expression on Nick’s face.
It was aglow with love. You could see it shining from him, like his face had its own light source. You could show that photo to anyone, no context necessary, and they’d be able to tell you who those people were and what the photo was—it was a daddy, holding his princess. He’d do anything for her. He was overcome with love for his baby girl.
Ahh…
It sent me spinning out, lightheaded, and it didn’t feel like I could bring myself down from it anytime soon.
I shook my head, hoping to clear it.
Nope. No dice.
Damn, I had to cool off. I couldn’t still be in this heightened emotional state when Nick came home in an hour. If I were, I’d be liable to blurt out something stupid I wouldn’t be able to take back. Not an admission of my feelings or anything—I’d had quite a bit of practice now, keeping those to myself—but…something. Something dumb, something vulnerable, or something that would make things awkward between us. I could feel recklessness crashing like bumper cars inside my chest. I had to get control.
I headed into the short hallway behind the stairs that led to the garage. It was only long enough for the guest bathroom and a linen cabinet next to it. I flipped on the light in the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, nudging the door shut with my foot. Yep. My skin was flushed, like I’d just finished a workout. I turned
on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face, then patted it dry with a towel. I took another look.
Damn. My skin was still reddish and blotchy.
You know…there is one way to get this out of your system…
I couldn’t, though… could I?
In a flash, overriding reason, I decided to go for it.
I sat down on the toilet lid, reaching over to make sure the door was locked. Was I really going to do this? It was so unlike me. I didn’t go in for big risks. I wasn’t a danger junkie. I didn’t get off on kinky stuff like public sex.
But there was something about the idea of touching myself here, in Nick’s house, where he lived…where he slept, ate…showered…it got my juices flowing, and I couldn’t explain it.
Maybe because it made the whole thing more intimate and immediate. It made me closer to him somehow, to give myself pleasure while I was in his home, his sacred domain. They say a man’s home was his castle, and I wanted nothing more than to be his queen—this might be the closest I ever would get.
I reached up and cupped my breasts in my hands. I took my time, feeling their weight. I imagined it was Nick who held them and let out a little whimper of delight. Would his hands feel good on my tits? I closed my eyes and pictured it…his strong hands cupping the naked skin of my breasts, playing with my nipples…
I took my nipples between my fingers and tweaked them. They’d already been firm to the touch from how turned on all of my thoughts had made me, but the pressure from my fingertips caused them to harden up like little pebbles. Sparks shot down my belly, and I felt the first waves of lightheadedness swim through my brain.
I was seized by the urge to touch my own bare flesh. I wouldn’t go so far as to get undressed here in Nick’s house, but I needed to touch my naked skin. I slipped my hands lightly underneath the hem of my T-shirt and moved them upward, burrowing my fingers under the elastic of my bra when I reached it, and then pushed it up over my tits. I now had unfettered access to my nipples.
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