Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Please,” Wren says while sitting up, gingerly resting our daughter in the crack between him and the back of the sofa.
Bella gives me a knowing grin before winking and turning to the coffee maker that I abandoned. The doorbell rings, and I struggle to peel myself away from looking at Wren and Angel together. It really is beautiful.
Dutifully, I go to the door, swinging it open, and my eyes go wide in shock when I see the man waiting on the other side. His expression is hopeful, his brown eyes are soft, and his lips are curved into a nervous grin.
“Roger,” I say in surprise.
“Hi,” he says nervously, his smile almost trembling.
Silence. I have no idea what to say or how to react. What is he doing here?
His eyes dart over my shoulder, and that hopeful expression turns hard, just like his lips when they flatten. “You have company,” he murmurs, continuing to glare.
I turn around to see Wren now holding his coffee, looking at us from across the living room. His hair is disheveled in a way that doesn’t detract from his unnatural sexiness, his clothes are barely wrinkled despite his night’s sleep, and his bright, hypnotic blue eyes are haunting me in the real world the way they usually do in my dreams. He turns his attention to the sofa, while I shuffle outside and shut the door behind me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, leading Roger away from the house.
He straightens his shirt that looks to have needed to be tackled by an iron. The dull, white button-down is missing a button near the top, displaying a patch of his dark chest hair very proudly.
“Who is that guy?” he asks angrily, ignoring my question.
“He’s my daughter’s father. Now what are you doing here?”
His glare could freeze me to my core if I cared enough to let it.
“So I have to scrape for scraps of time with you, but you let your ex spend the night whenever he wants to see his daughter. Nice. Real nice. Where did he sleep? Your bed or hers, because it didn’t look like he was staring at a kid just now.”
My blood slowly starts to boil. Is he serious? We’re barely dating. And we certainly never agreed to monogamy, even though I’m not actually doing anything with Wren.
“How did you get this address? And why are you here?”
“I work in records, remember? You told me you were moving this weekend. I offered to help, but you said you didn’t bring men you dated in front of your daughter. When you cancelled last night, I assumed you were still unpacking. Guess the perks of being the deadbeat father outweigh the perks of being the boyfriend.”
Boyfriend? I didn’t realize until just now that I was dating someone delusional.
“Roger, Wren and I are trying to learn how to do this with our daughter. He’s not a deadbeat, and we’re not together. Even if we were, you and I have never agreed to an exclusive relationship, so this is completely unwarranted.”
He narrows his eyes at me as though I’ve wronged him. “I don’t date more than one woman at a time. It’s not proper or gentlemanly.”
I roll my eyes while turning around. “And I don’t date jealous men who show up uninvited after obtaining my address in a really creepy way and cause a scene my daughter could overhear.” I turn back around when I reach the door. “Sorry, Roger, but I don’t see this going anywhere.”
He starts to speak, but I push through the door and lock it behind me. The sofa is empty when I see it, and for a sickening moment, I worry about what all Angel just heard.
“She’s in her bedroom,” Wren says, returning to the living room with two cups of coffee.
“Did she—”
“No,” he says, closing the distance between us and handing me the second cup. A subtle tick forms in his jaw, but he turns and walks away before I can question it.
I follow him as he walks back toward the living room, blowing out a soft breath.
I need more than coffee for a morning like this.
When he turns back around, his face is a mask of impassivity, and he speaks calmly, acting so collected, when I feel a little wired.
“You two were mostly quiet, and Bella cut on the television. Angel went to her room to change. She was mad that she fell asleep in her normal clothes, because she wanted to show me her new pajamas. I told her to show me now.”
“Thank you,” I whisper as he sips his coffee.
He reaches for me, brushing his finger over my cheek, a chaste motion that shouldn’t stir my heart the way it does.
“You okay? I can get her out of here for a little while if you need a moment. That didn’t sound pretty. Sorry if he did this because of me.”