“At least jump around so I can watch your boobs bounce.”
I wanted to feel affronted at his suggestion, but happiness bubbled up until it came out as a laugh and something in me urged me to give in.
Maybe it was the way he issued it with a raised eyebrow. Maybe because I wanted to have his eyes track over my body like mine were doing to his.
Once he was finally in the kitchen, he stole my wooden-spoon-microphone and screeched more lyrics.
“You’re horrible.”
“Like you can do better?” he challenged.
I narrowed my eyes and tugged back my microphone, singing off-key and loud. I swayed my hips, twerking my butt to the beat. His eyes heated and tracked my moves, and I continued to steal glances at his bouncing tripod.
We laughed and danced around each other, not touching, but having our own little dance-off. When I thought I’d got the laughing under control, he’d pelvic thrust toward me, forcing my eyes down again. Heat spread from my cheeks down my body, making my hands twitch to tug the shorts down so I could watch him without anything blocking my view.
As the seconds ticked by, we got closer and closer, our bodies coming together like magnets. When I was sure he was going to grab me and pull me in to turn this into a dirty-dancing dance-off, the song ended, and we both stood there breathless, with wide smiles, and sexual tension vibrating between us.
The moment broke when the sound of water bubbling over the pan had me jumping into action.
“Shit.”
“Do you need help?” he asked, leaning against the counter. I made a point to ignore his knowing smile.
Now that I wasn’t entranced with his swinging dick and hard abs, I got my dirty thoughts about us screwing on the kitchen floor out of my mind.
“No, I’m good,” I answered, my voice too high-pitched.
I held my breath waiting for him to call me on my bullshit—waited for him to corner me against the counter and press close, maybe kiss down my neck.
But it never came, and I did my best to convince myself I was relieved. Instead, he stood tall and said, “Whatever you say, dancing queen. I’m going to go finish doing some laundry.”
And hopefully, put on a shirt before I sexually assaulted my baby-daddy.
The next day I helped him pack and vetoed his Hawaiian shirt ideas. I also vetoed a quick drop off at the curb. Instead, opting for parking at the airport and walking him in. I held Audrey in the baby carrier, bouncing side to side as he got through check-in.
“Daddy will miss you, my sweet baby girl,” Ian baby-talked between all the kisses to Audrey’s dark head of hair. “You be good, but get all those stinky poops out before Daddy comes home, okay?”
“Yeah, right. You’ll owe me after this.”
He looked up from her head and smiled, his mouth only inches from mine. I stared at the full bottom lip and wondered if I could pretend to stumble and fall against his mouth. He’d stayed true to his word and not brought up the last night in my apartment, but it didn’t mean I hadn’t laid in his guest room and dreamed of reliving it over and over.
Someone bumped into him, unfortunately knocking him sideways. He recovered and gave me the smile I was always fighting to give in to. The one that said he knew I wanted him, and he could make me scream. All I had to do was ask.
That smile.
“Don’t miss me too much.”
I scoffed. “Hardly.”
He breathed a laugh and rested his hand atop Audrey, brushing her downy hair. “Be good girls. I’ll be back soon, and we can FaceTime. Call me if you need anything at all.”
“Okay.”
He took one step away but stopped and turned back to crowd me. Holding my wide stare, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth and muttered the words that had me smiling the rest of the day.
“You may not miss me, but I’ll miss you.”
20 Carina
Day Two:
Ian: What are my girls doing tonight?
Carina: Having tummy time.
Ian: I love tummy time. I may have some tummy time myself later.
Carina: Well, it isn’t our daughter’s favorite. She may learn to roll over just to avoid it.
Ian: She better not roll over until I can see it.
Ian: FaceTime me. I need to tell her not to roll until Daddy is home.
Day Five:
Ian: Did you know all the museums are free here? We should bring Audrey when she’s older.
Carina: I’ll put it on her calendar.
Ian: Good. Now send me a picture so I can see my girls.
Day Seven:
Ian: What are my girls doing tonight?
Carina: Bath time.
Ian: Both of you? ;)
Ian: Quick, send me a picture.
Carina: No, you perv. Just Audrey.
Ian: Still send a picture.
Ian: She’s getting so chubby. I love it.
Carina: She’s getting heavy to hold.
Ian: Don’t worry, I’ll be home soon with my big, man muscles.
Ian: Quick question…
Carina: Shoot.
Ian: A local paper is wanting to do an interview and offering a discounted ad space. I was wondering if it was worth it to invest the time and money since their name wasn’t recognizable at first mention.
Carina: Send me the name, and I’ll look into it and get back to you.
Ian: Thank you.
Ian: Damn, I’m lucky I have the smartest girl on speed dial.
Day Nine:
Ian: Send me a pic.
Ian: Of BOTH my girls.
Ian: God, I miss you guys.
Carina: We miss you too.
Ian: We, eh?
Carina: Shut up, Ian.
Ian: You love it.
Carina: I’m rolling my eyes.
Ian: I’m imagining it now. Sooo sexy.
Carina: When do you get back?
Ian: Three more days.
This trip was making me question my sanity because I had to be insane with how much my body flushed with happiness when I saw Ian’s messages pop up on my phone each day. I had to be insane with how much I sat around waiting to hear from him and wondering what we’d talk about.
I had to be insane because three days felt like an eternity, and I wanted him home now. These past nine days have dragged on, making me realize how much I missed him. Me missing Ian. I never thought that was an emotion I’d feel when it came to him. Maybe it was because I was just lonely. I’d been out of work for almost six weeks now, only coming on for a few consulting jobs that didn’t require much of my time or to leave Audrey.
But even that sounded like a false reason since I’d spent more time at my aunts’ houses than I had all month. I didn’t lack adult interaction.
I thought back to how hard I laughed dancing around the kitchen with Ian and the fluttering in my belly kicked up. When was the last time I’d laughed so hard? When was the last time I’d had that light floaty feeling of happiness?
The day I had Audrey stood at the forefront of my mind, but Ian was there too, holding my hand and sharing the moment with me.
Somehow over these past two months, despite how hard I tried to fight him off, he’d ingratiated himself in my life, and this pang of missing him reinforces how close to the edge of falling I’d come.