“What?” Astrid strides over and glances out the window. Her mouth parts and she looks at me with wide panicked eyes, ones that I’m certain mirror my own.
“Alba,” she gasps my name, “that’s his bike.”
“I know.” I wet my lips and turn away from the window. Maybe if I don’t look at it the motorcycle will disappear.
“What are you going to do?” She has to nearly jog to keep up with me, Dahlia giggling in her arms as she bounces up and down.
Walking behind the desk and looking at the sticky notes scrawled on with things for me to go over before the day starts, I wait a moment before I answer her. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” she repeats, taking a seat on one of the couches. “But … but … I mean … he’s her dad.”
Astrid is the only person besides my mother who knows who Dahlia’s father is. Not that I’m ashamed of Travis, because I’m certainly not. At least when he left town he was a good-looking, successful guy. Who knows what he might have gotten into now?
I look up from one of the notes telling me to call back a Linda with no explanation as to why I’m calling her. “Yeah, and I’m sure he’ll disappear again by the end of the day.”
Astrid blinks at me, uttering a quiet, “What if he doesn’t?”
I give the smallest shrug of my shoulders. “Then I’ll figure it out.”
The thing about keeping a secret like this is the longer you keep quiet the harder it becomes to say anything.
Sorting through the mail, I try to ignore Astrid standing up and looking out the window searching for a peek at Travis.
“Don’t you wonder why he disappeared?”
“No.”
Yes.
Of course I do. I’m human. We’re curious by nature. Anyone that says they’re not is a liar.
Astrid makes a sound that I know means she thinks I’m full of shit.
She’d be correct.
“Oh, ew!” She exclaims suddenly. “Someone made a stinky and that’s mom duty not fun auntie’s job.” She scurries over to me and holds the baby out. “Take her.”
I shake my head and scoop my daughter up, who does smell like literal shit.
When I found out I was pregnant I made a space for her in my office—a changing area, crib, and even a small space where she can sit and play as she gets bigger.
I didn’t plan on ever becoming a mom. It wasn’t something I felt I wanted and I was content to never have children. Life had other plans for me. I wouldn’t take Dahlia back for anything. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and it might be silly, but even when I’m tired and exhausted from dealing with a cranky baby I still crawl into bed at night and say thank you that the universe realized I needed her when I didn’t know it.
“Is someone smelly?” I kiss her round pink cheek and she giggles, reaching for my hair. “Nice try missy.” I grab the dyed black strand before she can and toss it over my shoulder. I’m not fond of the hair pulling stage and I’m dreading the day she tries to get ahold of my nose ring.
In my office I lay her down on the changing mat and clean her up, tossing the diaper in the trash. Snapping her plain white onesie back into place I smother her in more kisses, repeating over and over how much I love her and that she’s the prettiest girl in all the land. The way she giggles I take to mean she approves of the sentiments.
I settle her into her crib for her morning nap. Almost immediately her tiny mouth seeks out her thumb and her lids grow heavy. Thank God she’s finally sleeping well. The first three months were tough with tummy issues that usually resulted in screaming throughout the whole day and an inability to go to sleep. Luckily my mom was there to help out during those months and my doctor gave me advice on how to help her with her gas.
Easing the door closed behind me, I walk back out to the front. “Astrid, can you give me those notes off the counter? I’m going to start making some calls.” Silence. “Astrid?”
I round the corner and stop dead in my tracks.
Travis Alexander stands at the counter, leaning casually against it. Despite the summer heat he wears a leather jacket over a white wife-beater. Black jeans hug his long lean legs, ripped at the knees, with his black boots rounding out the look. Straightening to his full height, he smirks at me. Those sinfully full lips turning up at the corners. The tattoos on his neck beg my eyes to take a peek, but I remind myself I spent an intimate night tracing the shape of them.
“Alba.” My name is a purr on his tongue.
I straighten, tugging my t-shirt down to hide the shaking in my hands. “Travis.”
He walks toward me but stops with at least four feet separating us.
Across the room Astrid is making all kinds of faces and eyes where he can’t see, silently urging me to just blurt out to him that his child is sleeping a few feet from here.
After I never heard back from him, I fully expected he was out of my life for good. His shop stayed open, but I assumed he sold it to someone else.
Stupid assumption now I see.
Silence fills the space and I curse myself for not at least turning on my playlist because I hate quiet like this. It’s the kind of quiet that’s so loud it hurts.
Tilting his head to the side, he wets his lips. “I’m back.”
I blink. Blink again. I’m back. That’s all he has to say after over thirteen months.
“I see that.”
“Thought you should know.”
Turning, he swipes a pen off the counter. My favorite pen. The one that’s black with red lips on it. He tucks it behind his ear and looks back at me before opening the door. He doesn’t say anything, only winks like the annoying bastard he is.
“Give me my pen back,” I demand.
“Nah. I like playing games with you too much.”
He pushes the door open, checks for traffic, and strides back across the street to Timeless Ink.
“Wow,” Astrid gasps. “The chemistry. The sexual tension.” She pretends to shiver. “If that’s what it’s like when you guys have clothes on please let me watch the next time you guys have sex.”
My mouth drops open and she giggles. “There’s not going to be next time, and if there was, the answer is hell no.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, hun, if you witnessed what I just did—” she flicks her finger where I am and Travis was mere seconds ago “—you’d know there’s not just going to be a next time, but a lot more times. Like a whole lifetime’s worth.”
“You’re delusional.” I grab the notes I need from the counter, shaking my head in disbelief. My freaking pen. I want it back.
“No, babe,” she calls after me as I head for my office, “you are.”
Chapter Two
Travis
I twist the pen back and forth between my fingers, again and again, my eyes memorizing the shape of the red lips decorating the glossy black surface. Red lips that remind me so much of the color and shape of Alba’s. I can see why she likes this pen so much. Aesthetically, it’s her.
It’s pathetic how much the dark-haired beauty has been on my mind since I first moved to town and how she stayed there, rooted deep, even when I had to leave.