“What the fuck? Hello … Harrison’s in the other room. He just walked in on us. Were you not paying attention?”
She tucks her knees to her chest, nuzzling her nose just under the edge of the blanket. “Not my problem. I’m off the hook with a batch of cookies.”
After a few seconds of staring at her back, red hair splayed over my pillow, I realize she’s serious.
“Unbelievable,” I mumble on my way to get in the shower.
Closing my eyes under the stream of hot water, I think of one week with Ellen. It’s not enough. All reasoning says I should not do this—I should not have said yes. She said it herself: we were over before we started. I’m delaying the inevitable. I lost one woman I loved, and I’m going to lose another. But I can’t think about Heidi without thinking of all the times I wished I could have had one more day—one more week.
These are my one-more days. This is my one-more week. It won’t change the future. It won’t cure her dad. It won’t erase fifteen hundred miles. I’d rather have her in my life for the next seven days than not. It’s just that simple.
I do my usual morning grooming and pick out my suit for the day.
“Let me.”
I turn toward the sleepy voice. She’s so fucking beautiful in black panties and no bra, but her green scarf is draped over her shoulders covering her breasts.
“Nice scarf.” I grin.
She smiles, blinking her blue eyes a few times to adjust to the closet light. Taking my suit jacket, she holds it for me to slip in my arms. After she buttons it, she adjusts my tie and grabs the lapels of my jacket.
“Flint Hopkins, you sure do look the part.”
“What part is that?”
A flash of something resembling pain pulls at her brow for less than a second, but she smiles through it. “The one that got away.”
Palming the back of her neck, I press my lips just below her ear, waiting until I feel her pulse. “No one’s getting away for the next week,” I whisper. “I’ll see you later.” I kiss her softly on the lips and snap the scarf off her neck, giving her a wicked grin before tossing it on the bed as I walk out of the room.
*
Ellen
I stay in Flint’s bed, occasionally drifting off to sleep, occasionally shedding a few tears. In twenty-four hours he completely took my heart in the Hail Mary of all Hail Mary passes. The man who feels unworthy of true happiness laid his whole heart open for me. I’m not sure what hurt most, the desperation in his eyes when he told me he loved me or the realization on his face when it became clear that no amount of love could keep me here.
I’ve simply loved my father my whole life. There’s nothing to contemplate.
By nine, I put on my clothes and drive home for a shower and time with my babies. After lunch I get everything settled with the hospital. I signed a contract with them, but they let me out of it, given the circumstances. I need to type out a letter to my other clients who have already been referred to another therapist temporarily. It’s now permanent. But I leave that for tomorrow. I have to feed my babies and pick up ingredients for cookies.
*
“Cookies.” Harrison grins as he comes in the back door a little before four with Flint right behind him.
“Wash your hands,” Flint says.
“Yeah, yeah …” Harrison ditches his bag and disappears into the bathroom.
“Smells good.” Flint eyes me. I’m not sure if he’s talking about the cookies or not. The comment fits the cookie scenario, but his eyes portray a different kind of hunger.
“Warm and moist.” I wiggle my eyebrows, taking one from the cooling rack and sinking my teeth into it.
Flint gives me a look that makes everything south of my navel feel just as warm and moist. “Two,” Flint warns Harry just as he starts to pile a third cookie onto a small plate.
“They’re my cookies,” Harry murmurs, disappearing up the stairs.
I smirk at Flint. He grabs my wrist and shoves the other half of my cookie into his mouth.
“Mmm … you’ve got baking skills.” He sucks each one of my fingers before releasing my wrist.
“You really need to stop acting so surprised that I have skills. And why are you here so early? It’s not even five.”
“Cookies.” He unbuttons his overcoat.
I laugh. “Cookies? You left work early for cookies?”
“I left work early for the baker.” He hangs up his wool overcoat and slips off his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the kitchen chair.
“I’m flattered.” I rest my backside and my hands on the edge of the counter, admiring Sex in a Suit as he loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his shirt.
He halts his motions, eyes shifting to the side as he sniffs several times. “It smells like more than just cookies.”
“Dinner’s in the oven.”
“Dinner?” He prowls toward me, caging me with his body as his hands press to the counter next to mine.
Biting my lower lip, I nod several times.
“Harrison-safe?”
I nod. “And I have tickets to the new Spiderman movie.”
Flint quirks a brow. “It’s a school night.”
“Let’s break all the rules. I’ll bake muffins tomorrow and right all of the wrongs.”
He slides his hand around my back and presses me to him, his lips devouring mine, his erection pressed to my belly.
I want this life.
I want Flint showing me his appreciation for baking. I want Harry grinning when he sees cookies on a cooling rack. I want passionate kisses promising long nights of being tangled in each other.
I rub my lips together when he tears his mouth from mine, both of us breathless.
He grins. “I love that you think baked goods make up for breaking the rules.”
I shrug. “It’s worked so far. Maybe you should take freshly baked cookies to the judge or jury on the days you have court.”
“Mmm …” He takes two steps backward to distance us as the stairs creak a bit under Harry’s descent.
“Can we play guitars?” Harry sets his plate on the counter.
“I don’t have mine here, but we can still make music…” I jab my thumb in the direction of the formal living room “…you have a piano.”
“You play piano?” Harry looks surprised.
I laugh, giving Flint a quick glance. He’s wearing his own smirk of amusement.
“Yes. I play a lot of instruments.”
“Cool.” Harry runs back up to his room.
“How long until dinner?” Flint looks at his watch.
“Forty-five minutes.”
“I’m going to get a run in since I didn’t get one this morning.”
“Should I feel guilty about that?”
Harry jogs back downstairs with his guitar.
Flint winks before heading toward the stairs. “Yes, you should.”
*
I want this life.
Playing music with Harry. Setting the dinner table for three. Seeing the look on his face when I tell him we’re going to the new Spiderman movie after dinner.
We eat. Harry does his homework while Flint and I clean the kitchen, stealing sexy kisses, sharing flirty looks, and the smiles … I drown in every single one he gives me.