She sighs. I smile. The night twinkles on.
Millie runs close to her imaginary line and darts away again, this time racing past us until she’s out of breath. The only way this scene could be more perfect is if it lasted. If Reese and Millie didn’t have to head home soon.
What the fuck am I thinking?
Cuddling? Hot cocoa? Almost-family time?
Roland Birdshit might be right to toy with my sanity because I’m clearly losing it.
Millie walks up to the couch Reese and I are stretched across and taps on my knee. I look at her.
“It’s cold, Mr. Nick. I want a movie. And I’m hungry.”
“It’s getting pretty late for a princess, I’ll admit.”
Reese’s eyes pop open from their lidded state. “Oh, crud. I was so busy tonight I forgot to feed her.”
My eyes flick to Millie, then Reese again.
“I said it’s late. But not too late for pizza...”
Millie lets out a delighted squeal that echoes through the night. “Pizz-zaaa!”
Reese pulls out of my grasp and sits up.
“No, we should probably go home. Nick is right, it’s getting late.”
Our moment ends with a whimper, but I’m not ready for them to leave.
“Quick Nick says it’s pizza time.” Millie stamps her foot for emphasis.
I turn to Reese, quirking an eyebrow.
“Quick Nick, huh? Creative.”
For a second, she looks so pale she could die.
“It was the only way I could get her to quit calling you Nick the—you know,” Reese begins in a whisper. “Another thing I’m really sorry for.”
I chuckle. I’ve caught her off guard and decide to use it to my advantage.
“How does pepperoni sound? I’ve got three of the best shops in the city set up for one-click orders,” I say, pulling out my phone.
Reese’s eyes dance from Millie and then back to me. “Pepperoni it is.”
“Cheese, cheese!” Millie yells, cupping her hands over her mouth.
“Millie, you can’t go to someone else’s house and change their dinner plans,” Reese warns her. “I can pick the pepperoni off for you.”
“Hey, I’m the one who asked. Millie wants cheese. I like a girl who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.”
Reese’s eyes connect with mine.
“I looove cheese!” Millie chirps again.
“See? She’s got guts. The squeaky wheel gets the cheese tonight.”
Finally, Reese cracks, laughing as I punch in the order.
I stand up, offering her a hand.
With this company, I could eat a piece of cardboard with toppings drawn in chalk and smile like a fool.
15
Here Comes Muscle (Reese)
I pop into Sweeter Grind with Millie on my hip and order up a cinnamon latte—plus a caramel macchiato for my boss.
His brother keeps up a constant front of manly black espresso drip and jokes about anything else being for wimps. Nick won’t admit it, but caramel macchiato is his favorite drink after decadent mochas.
It’s also something small I can do for him after everything he’s done for me—for us.
“I wanna cramel coffee,” Millie says, adorably butchering caramel.
“You’re not old enough for espresso and you’d best believe we’re moderating your sugar, babe,” I tell her.
“I want juice!” she squeals, waving her arms at the bright beverages in the refrigerated case.
“It’s not sweet. You won’t like it. There’s better juice in your playroom for free.”
“Fiiine.”
The barista calls my name.
“You’re going to have to walk now. I can’t carry you and two drinks.” I set Millie on her feet. “Grab an arm or leg and don’t let go.”
She pulls on my pant leg all the way to the car so I’m not worried about her wandering off or someone snatching her. Once or twice, I have to hope the pants don’t fall, though.
It hasn’t gotten much easier playing mom while Abby is locked up, but I’m getting better at it. I think.
Parking lots used to terrify me with her. I never had enough hands to manage all the risks that come with being totally responsible for someone else’s life.
Thank God for Tiffany, or we’d be doing this all day, every day. The nanny works my hours and stays on call if I have urgent pickups or unplanned deliveries.
Day by day, we’re surviving. The last few days have even been peaceful.
I still can’t get the way Nick squeezed my hand and held me out of my head. I have the gift of good memory, and it keeps me on my toes every time we’re in the same space.
I can’t wish for more with him.
I shouldn’t.
Of course, a terrible, lonely part of me refuses to cooperate. The same part that can’t forget his kiss.
Lately, every glance at his chiseled face has my eyes drawn to his lips.
At Brandt Ideas, I walk Millie into her playroom and leave the macchiato for Nick to find on his desk. It’s uneventful, a boring day of rain and barely anyone needing rides.
I hate feeling disappointed that I miss seeing boss-zilla.
The next morning, I get a text at four a.m. I need a ride, bright and early if you’re able. This can’t wait.