T: That had better be painted over before I return home.
P: Boo! You’re no fun.
T: I’d be happy to show you how much fun I can be.
P: Always sexual with you, Mr. Hunter.
T: It is you with the dirty mind, Ms. Miles. I was thinking dinner or dancing.
P: Liar.
T: Perhaps. Now get to work.
P: Yes, sir. I’ll be finished on Monday.
I consider texting her back just to continue the playful banter that brings out the once lighthearted side of me. Peyton’s like a ray of sunshine in my otherwise dark existence. I don’t text her back because I get the impression she isn’t a woman I can fuck and walk away from easily. Knowing that concerns me. She might be sweet now, but all women eventually show their true nature, and I won’t be manipulated again. Ever.
I drive to my brother’s to spend the weekend with my family, rather than alone in a hotel, or worse, with a nameless woman who fails to numb my pain. Before I have the chance to collect myself, Brady opens the door, waiting for me. The look on his face as I approach him tells me Tori told him about our conversation.
“Did you see her?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Did you get answers?”
“Not the ones I wanted.”
I hug my brother who pats me on the back, apologizing. “Sorry. I wish I could help.”
“It’s all good,” I say, pulling away from him before I feel like more of a helpless bitch. I don’t want any more of my family’s pity or fucking misguided sympathy. “The loft isn’t finished. Can I crash here this weekend?”
“Of course, little brother. You’re always welcomed here.”
We go inside and I take Little A from Tori. He smiles up at me with pure unconditional love, expecting zilch in return. I can’t help but wonder when that changes? When we start expecting things for our affections? Knowingly or not, all adults do want something in exchange for love.
“I’m glad you made it back,” Tori says, hugging me. “You didn’t answer my text.”
“My service has been spotty,” I lie. Not answering her text was intentional as when I texted her I was leaving and not to worry, she wanted me to call her first. I couldn’t allow her to talk me out of going.
I spend the weekend babysitting the boys with Mrs. Preston so Tori and Brady can escape the house for some time alone. Mrs. Preston is surprisingly delightful to be around and she helps keep my mind off my troubles. Mostly because she keeps me busy, baking or going for walks with the boys. By the end of the weekend, I’m certain Mrs. Preston was babysitting my pathetic ass as well.
Drew falls asleep next to me Sunday night in the guest bed. I consider carrying him to his room, but I like the peaceful feeling of having my nephew next to me. My phone rings, and when I notice it’s Peyton, I get out of bed and leave the room so I don’t wake Drew before I answer.
“Hey, it’s Peyton.”
“Hold on a second,” I tell her and walk downstairs so as not to wake anyone else in the house. The particularly warm night air rushes across my face as I step outside onto the back deck. “I hope this means my loft is almost finished?”
“Oh, a girl can’t just call to talk?”
“Not a girl with a deadline,” I respond rudely. “I’m ready to sleep in my own bed. However, if you’d like to keep me company in said bed that could be arranged.”
I hear her accelerated breathing and grin. She wants me.
“No, you’re right. I’m calling to let you know you can return home tomorrow morning. Oh, and I won’t be screwing you.”
A small laugh tickles my throat. “We shall see. I can be extremely persuasive.” The pause filling the line is curious or maybe I’m being overly hopeful. So much for my resolve not to sle
ep with her. “Are you blushing, Ms. Miles?”