My daughter’s very active imagination will string the rest of the story together once she wakes up in the morning.
Astrid glances in my direction. An instant smile blooms on her lips. “Everything is good. Eloise needed to talk to me about something.”
She doesn’t offer more, so I don’t press.
With effortless grace, she slides down from the stool next to the kitchen island. Her hands skim over the skirt of her dress. “I should get home.”
I want to ask her to stay, but I want to have a serious discussion with my daughter about what I’m feeling before I embark on sleepovers with my girlfriend.
My girlfriend.
I can’t remember the last time I had a girlfriend.
“I can order a rideshare for you,” I offer.
As expected, she shakes her head. “The subway is easiest for me.”
I stalk closer to her because I want at least a kiss before the night ends.
I crave more, but my plan is to ask her out early next week for dinner with the hope that we’ll enjoy dessert at her apartment again.
“Your daughter is a phenomenal person,” she says quietly. “She’s been through something unspeakable, yet she radiates happiness.”
That’s my Stevie.
I smile. “She finds happiness everywhere.”
“She really does.” Astrid laughs. “She’s a great singer too.”
I’ve always thought that, but it’s good to hear the words come from a professional.
I wrap my hands around Astrid’s waist to tug her closer. “You know that I want to take you to bed.”
She grips the lapels of my jacket. “You know that I want that too.”
I do know that.
I see it when I look into her eyes. I feel it in the way she’s pressing her body into mine.
“Let me take you to dinner on Monday, Astrid.”
She nods. “I’d love that. We’ll do dessert at my apartment after dinner?”
“In your bed,” I get right to the point. “I can feed you something sweet.”
She grabs hold of my tie to tug my face closer to hers. In barely more than a whisper, she says, “I’m craving that now.”
I tug her even closer to me. “You’re craving what now?”
“Something sweet,” she repeats my words with a chuckle. “You were talking about your cock, right?”
I wasn’t, but dammit, I’m as hard as a bag of nails now.
“Astrid,” I growl her name. “I want that.”
“Monday.” She tilts her head to the left as we lock eyes. “We’ll order something in so dessert can come before dinner.”
The words and her tone are so ripe with untamed desire that I groan. “Jesus, Astrid.”
“Kiss me goodnight,” she orders softly. “Make it good.”
I do just that.
I wrap her in my arms and spend the next ten minutes kissing the breath out of her.
An hour later, I do my last check of the house before heading upstairs to bed.
I’ve spent the time since Astrid left daydreaming.
Daydreaming about what life could be like. I haven’t allowed myself to go there since Layna died.
I’ve kept my focus so trained on my daughter that I couldn’t see the bigger picture for myself.
It felt too selfish until now.
Being with Astrid feels effortless and right. It feels so damn right.
A soft knock at my front door sends my gaze to the watch on my wrist. It’s too late to be anyone but my family, although they all have a key.
It’s not uncommon for me to wake up to find Sinclair in my kitchen cooking scrambled eggs or Keats in the living room waiting to talk to me about a dad issue he’s experiencing.
He’s acing his role as a new father, but he has doubts. I went through the same thing after Stevie was born.
I move toward the door and unlock it without looking through the peephole. I swing it open quickly.
“Mrs. Hosek?” I question when I catch sight of my assistant holding an overnight bag. “What’s wrong?”
Her hand skims her forehead as an exaggerated sigh falls from her lips. “It’s party night at my place. Or the place next to my place.”
I huff out a laugh. “Your neighbors are having a rager?”
“No one over thirty calls it that.” She laughs. “I would have booked a hotel room, but I remember you saying if I needed a bed to sleep in that you had a few extra.”
I also told her that if she needed a friend today, I would be around.
Today is her late husband’s birthday. I marked that occasion with a call to her this morning. I also arranged the delivery of a half dozen of her favorite bagels and a coffee.
Her husband would always see to it that she had a fresh bagel and a coffee on his birthday, and she would return the favor by cooking him his favorite dinner on her birthday.
I chuckled the first time she told me about their unorthodox birthday celebrations, but she explained that he was her greatest gift, so she always did something special for him on her birthday. He saw life through the same lens as she did, so he made sure she’d have something she loved on his birthday.