“It’s annoying.” I slurp my wine as I flop down on the second couch alongside Pen.
“As usual, you’re missing the point, Esme.” Pen drills her with a look. Those two still fight like cats and dogs, but they would go to the ends of the Earth for one another if the chips were down. “Ben can’t just show up here and railroad Sierra into doing what he wants.”
“To be fair, he’s trying to protect us, and he backed down on the New York plan pretty fast.” I tuck my knees underneath me.
“Now you’re defending him?” Pen says, her tone dripping with incredulity.
“No. I’m…” I rub a tense spot between my brows. “I’m mad and confused and guilt-stricken and relieved and impressed and hurt and a million different things.” I tilt my head to the side, eyeballing Pen. “It’s a complicated situation. One part of me feels guilty that I kept Rowan from him. Especially when I see the lengths Ben is going to, to keep us safe. That part of my brain is questioning everything I’ve done.”
“You did what you felt was right,” Esme says, sitting up against the arm of the couch. “And you shouldn’t feel guilty for that. You were protecting your son.”
“You were terrified after what you discovered in New York, and you were right to be afraid. If I was in your shoes, I would have done exactly the same thing,” Pen says.
“Everything is going to change now.” I take another sip of my wine. “And I’m scared.”
“Ben won’t let anything happen to you or Rowan,” Esme reassures me. “At least, in that regard, he hasn’t let you down. Imagine how it would’ve felt if he had wanted nothing to do with Rowan?”
“That might have been better,” Pen murmurs.
“I thought so at first,” I agree. “But Ben is right. It wouldn’t change the facts. Rowan is always going to be at risk because of the blood that flows through his veins.”
“What’s your new bodyguard like? Is he hot?” Esme waggles her brows.
“What has that got to do with anything?” Pen asks, rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath.
“She’s virtually married to him now,” Esme quips, and I almost choke on my wine. “It helps if he’s easy on the eyes.”
“He’s definitely easy on the eyes.”
“Oh my God.” Esme spills some of her wine on the floor as she swings her legs around. “I know what you should do! You should seduce him! Imagine how fucking pissed Ben would be if you screwed one of his employees.”
“Number one: I’m in a relationship and I don’t cheat. Number two: Ben would probably murder Alesso and me if we had sex. Number three: Alesso is loyal to Ben and fairly aloof. I would have zero success seducing him. And number four: We’re not in high school anymore. Doing something so juvenile is beneath me.”
Esme pouts, lifting her legs back onto the couch. “Well, that’s no fun. I was hoping to live vicariously through you.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going through a dry spell?” Pen inquires, crossing her feet at the ankles.
“We can’t all be as lucky as you and find our soul mate in high school.”
Pen tugs at her ears. “Sorry, I must be hearing things. What did you just say?”
Esme throws a cushion at Pen. “You heard me, and you also heard me the million times I apologized for ever doubting you and Eric.” Esme smiles, but it’s tinged with sadness. “I’m happy to admit I was wrong and you were right. I envy what you have, Pen. Marriage might not be in the cards for me, but I can see how happy you are. You love your husband and your kids, and you have the career too. You make it look easy, and I’m in awe of you.” She turns to me. “And you too, Sierra. You made the right choices for you and your son, and you’re a fucking amazing mother. No matter what happens with Ben, don’t let him take any of that credit, because it’s all on you.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Esme,” I reply, fighting a sudden wave of nostalgia. “I know we didn’t talk for a few weeks after I found out I was pregnant, but I always knew your heart was in the right place. You have always had my back, and you came through for me when it counted.”
“And you’re going to be the most successful female lawyer Chicago has ever seen,” Pen loyally adds. “Look at your amazing track record so far. You are the only attorney in your firm who has won every single case. That is freaking incredible, and you deserve it because you work damn hard.”
“To us,” Esme says, raising her glass.
“To us,” we agree, joining in her toast.
“When will he get here?” Rowan asks the following day for the umpteenth time. I glance at the clock on the wall, fighting the anxiety clawing at my throat.
“Ben should be here any minute now,” I tell him, wiping the kitchen counter down for the tenth time. I barely slept a wink again last night despite the alcohol sloshing through my veins. I’ve been antsy all morning, worried over how this is going to go down.
The bell chimes, and Rowan whoops, racing toward the door. Nausea swims up my throat, and my stomach is twisted into knots as I run after him, grabbing him before he reaches the door. “What did Mommy tell you about opening the door?”
“I am not to open the door on my own, but Mommy, this is different. Ben’s not a stranger. He’s my friend.”
“Firecracker.” I brush strands of his dark hair out of his eyes. “We don’t even know for sure that it’s Ben, which is why you must let Mommy check first.”
He bobs his head, his eyes darting to the door with eagerness.
Butterflies swoop into my chest, and I offer up a silent prayer as I inspect the excited glee on my son’s face. Please God, let this go okay for his sake. While I am still furious at the way Ben has treated me, I am determined to take the moral high ground and act civilized for Rowan’s sake. Clutching my son’s small warm hand, I peer out of my new peephole before opening the door to Ben.
Unlike me, he is the epitome of cool, calm, and collected as he stands on my porch looking hotter than any man has a right to look. He’s ditched the suit for dark jeans, black loafers, and a fitted black shirt that molds to his impressive chest. Like yesterday, he has rolled the shirt sleeves up to his elbows, showcasing his strong tanned arms and a coating of sexy dark hair. A flashy black and silver Patek Philippe watch is strapped to his wrist. When he kneels in front of Rowan, the air swirls around him, blasting his spicy scent in my face. He smells as good as he looks, and I swear my ovaries swoon.
“Hey, Rowan,” Ben says, smiling. “It’s good to see you again.” He lifts his clenched fist, and the second Rowan presses his much smaller knuckle against his father’s, I almost choke on the messy ball of emotion lodged at the back of my throat. Rowan grins, and his blue eyes glow with happiness. Watching them up close like this, the resemblance is so uncanny it blows my mind. They are like carbon copies of one another, and cracks fissure the temporary walls I erected around my heart.
“You wanna see my art studio or see my bugs first?” Rowan asks, grabbing Ben’s hand without hesitation.