Instead, all she got was silence.
By 2 a.m., her anxiety was solidifying into anger. She pushed the bedcovers aside and stomped to the bathroom to pee. Wash her face. Something. This was ridiculous, but even more ridiculous was how genuinely upset she was about Maxwell’s late night. As she splashed warm water over her face, trying to talk herself down from worries and doubts and insanity, she heard the front door click shut. Jill straightened, listening intently. Footsteps on the staircase. Maxwell was finally home.
But she was too wound up to be relieved, or even calm. She hurried out of the bathroom, hoping that maybe she’d make it into the bedroom before he reached the landing. But when she stepped out of the bathroom, there he was at the end of the hallway. Disheveled. Handsome. Looking like he’d been devoured by whatever pretty girls he’d chosen to throw himself at that night.
“Jill. You’re awake,” he said, the surprise evident in his voice. Reminding her of far too many late nights with her ex. Her throat clamped and she nodded, keeping her head down as she headed for her bedroom.
“Good to see you finally made it home,” she spat, nastier than she’d intended. Or maybe exactly as she’d intended.
“We had a great night,” he said with a laugh, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He stumbled slightly, which set off even more alarms.
“Are you drunk?” she asked.
“A little.” The mischief was evident on his face as he stood there, swaying ever so slightly, his boxy frame silhouetted by the nightlights dotting the long hall.
Another round of anger burbled to life. She was done with this. “Glad you can just go out and get wasted while you got three kids at home.”
She tried to breeze into her bedroom, but he grabbed her wrist, preventing her from walking away.
“What did you say?”
She gritted her teeth. This was a losing battle against her better judgment. Every ounce of repressed snark and insomnia wanted to slither out of her now like a serpent. “You said you’d be gone a couple of hours, Maxwell. It’s almost three. You’ve been partying for eight hours.”
She couldn’t see the exact reaction on his face, but she could feel the way the air went tense.
“You said you were fine with watching the kids tonight,” he said. “What the fuck does it matter? I lost track of time.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t matter.” She yanked her wrist back, feeling unresolved and somehow worse than before.
“Just get some sleep,” Maxwell said as she slipped into her bedroom.
Like sleep is an option now? She tossed and turned some more, raking through her feelings. Somewhere around 3 a.m., she realized the truth: she was hurt. Even though she hadn’t planned on it, she’d gotten close to Maxwell. He’d become a part of her life, her routine. Which meant that his not checking in with her about the late night stung, even though it shouldn’t.
Except maybe it should. Because despite her best efforts, she and Maxwell had been getting closer than just co-parents. There was flirtation. There was intimacy. There was the promise of something more around the corner, if either of them could just take the final step.
And after tonight? She couldn’t deny that she wanted to take that final step, even though every last part of her knew she shouldn’t.
9
Three hours of sleep.
It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Jill groped for her phone to shut off the alarm, eyes burning and mind foggy. A long workday stretched ahead of her, which meant she’d need every last drop of coffee available in the entire city.
Grumbling, she pulled herself out of bed. It was almost seven, which was late for her. Beyond the closed door of the bedroom, she could hear the kids shrieking distantly, which meant Maxwell was probably up with them.
Bless his drunk late-night heart.
Jill grabbed her clothes and hurried to the bathroom, eager to wash away the weird night and forget about that encounter in the hallway. She was in the wrong, but also felt like Maxwell was too. Apparently, sleeping it off hadn’t made things clearer at all. And now she was stuck feeling embarrassed for getting too close to Maxwell, imagining some sort of bond or commitment, when he was probably off making out with cheerleaders for eight hours straight.
Stop it, Jill. Stop it right now.
She took a deep breath and focused on getting ready. Shimmer eye shadow. Pink lip gloss. A smart, ruffled blouse with high-waisted black pants and wedge heels.
She was a put-together pediatric dentist, dammit, and did not give a crap about some sexy-as-sin NFL star who could have thirteen girlfriends a week if he wanted.
Composed and ready for the day, Jill headed downstairs, steeling herself for the inevitable interaction downstairs. She found the triplets tucked into their high chairs in the breakfast nook, already served with their portion cups of Cheerios and strawberry slices.
Maxwell, wearing a sleeveless workout shirt, those big, muscled arms on display, looked bleary-eyed but content.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she said, trying to sound like last night hadn’t happened at all and she’d never pulled the girlfriend card when she didn’t deserve to.
He offered a half-smile with slitted eyes. “Morning. It’s awfully bright today.”
“Might need some sunglasses for the kitchen,” she said, heading to the fruit basket on the counter. Just as she reached for a banana, Maxwell slapped at her hand.
“Don’t. I made you breakfast.”
She lifted a brow, twisting to look at him. “You what now?”
“You were salty last night. So I made you breakfast.” His cocksure smile, though tired, was back on his face, sending her belly into flutters again.
So he hadn’t forgotten, nor was he content to just pretend last night in the hallway hadn’t happened. Great.
“That’s nice of you,” she said, easing into a seat near the kids’ high chairs. They were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed—as always at this hour. “I’ll need the extra fuel since I slept about three hours.”
His back faced her as he tended the stove. “I didn’t know you’d be up worrying about me.”
She wilted a little as she helped Kevin stab a piece of strawberry with his toddler fork. “I didn’t know I would be either.”
Silence stretched between them, though she wasn’t sure if it was tense or friendly. At this point, nothing made sense to her. Nothing other than how badly she wanted to run her hands over the sturdy mountains of his biceps and bring him into her bedroom. Where they might be able to stay for the rest of the day.
“I guess I was just imagining the worst. And then when I couldn’t sleep, I was stressing about that too. Thinking about how bad the workday was gonna be. Thinking about how you were out being a normal guy. Vicious cycle,” she said.
He turned to face her. “A normal guy?”
“Well, yeah. A single guy like you at some swanky soiree like that.” She swallowed hard, unsure what else to add that wouldn’t completely betray the fact that she was desperate to get on top of this man—or under him. Either one was fine for starters.
“You were jealous?”
Panic spread through her. How did he know? It was like he could hear the whispers of her heart, and she hated it. “I…I mean…yeah. I guess.”