Dream Keeper (Dream Team 4)

Understandable.

“Auggie!” I called again, sharper and a bit louder this time.

I also cursed that I’d worn the pumps I was wearing.

They were sleek, stylish and high-heeled. I thought they said Professional Mom, even if for the most part I wore them with jeans because they made me feel like Cool Mom.

The pencil skirt I was wearing that I didn’t think was too tight until I had to semi-run in it didn’t help.

“Auggie!” I snapped as he opened the door to his silver Kia Telluride.

Finally, he turned to me.

I stopped a couple of feet away, huffing and puffing, such was the effort of running in heels and a pencil skirt, and this said something, considering I danced in the former nearly every night.

“I’m thinking there are things we need to discuss,” I announced, I thought, unnecessarily.

I was going to suggest we go have a cup of coffee or ask him if he’d had lunch (I had not) and maybe offer to buy him a late lunch.

I did not get that chance.

Auggie spoke.

And tore me apart.

“I fucked you and you were a sweet fuck. But you were clear after it was over, and having had time to consider it, I’m glad you were. I also agree with what you said. So I’ll be clear now and stick to your theme.”

That was the definition of not a good start.

Alas, he continued.

“Your daughter’s got some ideas and it’s on you to sort her out. I’d appreciate if you did that. But you and me, however you’ve decided to work that, is not gonna happen. I’ve got no time for game playing and no patience for people who play. And I fucking hate cockteases. Even though you finally let me get in there, you’re not gonna lead me around by my dick for the shot at another go. Your kid is cute. I like her. They need help with their Thanksgiving thing, I’m in. As long as I don’t have to spend time with you. If you’re around, you gotta find a way to tell her I’m out. Are we clear?”

I stood solid, marveling that I managed to do that because every word he spoke felt like he was pummeling me with stones.

Hefty, jagged ones.

“Pepper?” he clipped.

Oh no.

Nonono.

My sinuses were stinging, my eyes felt funny.

Shit.

I was going to cry.

“Crystal,” I whispered, whirled on my thin heel and started booking across the parking lot toward my Hyundai.

I managed to get my keys out of my purse and bleep the locks of the Tucson, all without falling flat on my face, which was a downright miracle. I also managed to get the door open.

But the tears were streaming.

Shit.

I was about to adjust to get around the door and hike my ass into the seat when the door was slammed shut in front of me.

I whirled again, only to find Auggie way in my space.

“These are the games I’m not playing,” Auggie warned low.

“I told you I understand,” I replied, my voice husky.

“Do not forget, you were the one who kicked my ass out. Before that, you were the one who shot me down, repeatedly. And that night, you were the one who came on to me.”

I did do that.

And I didn’t have some lame excuse (but at least it would be something to blame it on), like I was drunk.

I was lucid and with it and all there.

I was just tired of denying myself.

I just wanted to feel attractive.

Desirable.

Womanly.

And not in a stripper way.

In the opposite of a stripper way.

In a let-a-man-like-Auggie-touch-kiss-and-have-sex-with-me way.

No, no, no.

Honesty.

In a let Auggie touch, kiss and have sex with me way.

I closed my eyes tight, but when I did, more wet leaked from them, so I opened them again.

Why hadn’t I put on my sunglasses?

Auggie was staring at my cheeks.

“I hear you, Augustus. I’m processing what you say,” I promised. “You can move away now. We can be done.”

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

Was he insane?

Considering the answer was obvious, I didn’t respond to his question.

“Just let’s be done, all right?” I requested.

“Why are you crying, Pepper?”

I shook my head.

He took half a step back, saying, “Yeah, this is a game I’m not playing.”

Can you love me?

Can you do it in a way that I’ll be able to trust you?

Trust that you won’t step out on me?

Trust that you won’t break my heart?

Trust that you can love my daughter like she’s your own?

Trust that you won’t break her heart either?

Do you have it in you to build a home and a life with me where I can look after you, you can look after me, we can raise my baby and maybe make more, and all of us will be safe and happy and together forever?

Can you take me to that perfect world?

In other words, this is far from a game.

You don’t gamble everything on everything.