I pulled her hand so that she fell into my lap. I situated her so that she was pressed against me and put my arms around her waist. “I want to sleep beside you at night, Whit. I want to wake up beside you in the morning.”
“I don’t want you feeling sorry for me after what I told you—”
I kissed her, cutting off her words. I nuzzled her nose with mine. “I don’t feel sorry for you. What I feel for you is not sympathy. Can’t you tell?” I lifted my hips so she could feel my erection against her backside.
She gave me a playful swat and kissed me one more time before standing up. “So, I’ll come home at noon and move my stuff and give the house a cleaning. Okay?” She was still looking for reassurance. Didn’t she realize I needed it from her just as badly?
We were both a hot mess.
“Sounds good. I’ll text you and let you know when I can get off work. Mr. Struthers says he’ll be here around three, so I’ll try to get back 2ish.” I got to my feet and discreetly adjusted myself. “I’ll pick up Katie on the way.”
“Or I can get her. If your mom won’t mind,” Whitney offered.
I couldn’t help it; I had to kiss her again. Katie, finally seeing what we were doing, squealed and laughed. We broke apart, grinning at each other like fools. “I think that sounds great.”
**
“The two of you haven’t been married very long, have you?” Mr. Struthers asked from his spot on the couch. He’d already been at the house for forty-five minutes. Whitney had done an excellent job of cleaning up. And when I was showing the guardian ad litem around, and we got to my bedroom, I smiled like an idiot at the sight of Whitney’s sweater over the back of the chair and her book on the bedside table. It looked like she had always been there. Which it sort of felt like she had.
Whitney and I glanced at each other. We had been trying to be relaxed and casual, but it was difficult when the sole purpose of this man’s visit was to analyze us and decide whether our home was a suitable environment for Katie to live in.
The kid in question was playing nicely with her dolls on the floor. Thank God she had been an angel during the entire visit, thanks to my mother putting her down for an extra-long nap today. Katie was a bear when she was tired, but an absolute darling when well-rested.
“Almost a month now,” I told him as he made a note in his giant folder. Frederick Struthers was an older man with thinning blond hair that he combed over to hide his bald spot on top. He wore nicely cut suits, though. He seemed a decent enough guy, but very no-nonsense, which was fine. He wasn’t there to be our friend.
I did appreciate how he took the time to sit with Katie for twenty minutes right off the bat and play with her. He crossed his legs and sat on the floor beside her, taking the dolls she handed him and speaking to her in calm, measured tones.
“Only a month? What made you get married now? Had you been together long?” Here it was. The tough question. We had to play it right or this obviously very smart guy would see right through us.
Whitney squeezed my hand. “We grew up together. I’ve known Kyle most of my life. We were together briefly years ago.” Her eyes flicked to me, her expression open and happy. “But it was after I moved back to Southport that we reconnected.” She answered vaguely, but with enough truth that it didn’t sound deceptive. “I fell in love with this little sweetheart, and it was natural how we became a family.” She beamed down at my daughter, and my heart felt the fullest it had ever been. I thought Katie was enough for me. That my love for her was all I needed. I hadn’t realized what I was missing until Whitney walked back into my life.
Mr. Struthers smiled warmly. “It looks as if you have created a lovely home for Katie, Mr. Webber—”
“Please call me Kyle, Mr. Webber is my dad.” I laughed, and Mr. Struthers laughed too.
“Kyle then. It’s clear that Katie is well cared for and loved. I’m impressed with her development. According to her medical records, she’s well above the curve for her age.”
“She was talking at fourteen months. Understandable words. She learns something new every day. She’s even learning to count now,” Whitney cut in, obviously proud.
It was my turn to squeeze her hand. Mr. Struthers made some more notes.
“So, what are the next steps?” I asked him.
Mr. Struthers closed his file and clicked his pen, tucking it into his pocket. “I’ve set up a visit with your parents. They are Katie’s primary daycare providers, correct?”