Birthday Girl

She turns, but her eyes only drift over me, never staying too long.

She’s trying to avoid me.

“If you want,” I broach gently, “you can just bring the kids over here. They can swim.”

She finally meets my eyes, and I notice hers are red. She’s unhappy, but she’s trying to hide it. Jesus.

She shakes her head, looking apologetic. “You just got off work. You want to relax, and they’ll be noisy.”

She drops her gaze again, looking nervous.

Is it me or is it something else? I did the right thing last night. I don’t want her to feel rejected, because she’d make any guy the luckiest man in the world.

Someday.

Maybe she’s not angry I stopped it, though. Maybe she’s upset it happened at all.

I take another step, lowering my voice like I’m afraid the neighbors can hear us. “Are you mad at me?” I ask her.

She pops her eyes up, answering quickly. “No.” And then she searches for her words. “I’m just trying to sort through some…things in my head.”

I can see tears welling in her eyes, and I hurt everywhere. Why do I always want to hold her so much?

She bows her head, trying to hide the tears she can’t stop, and I step up to her and only hesitate a moment before putting my hand on the side of her face. My fingers wrap around the back of her head, and she doesn’t push me away.

“I’m here, okay?” I whisper. “Nothing’s changed. I still love the smell of your candles and the sound of your music in the house.” I pause and then add, “Although I’m not a huge fan of the cucumber wraps you snuck into my lunch yesterday.”

She breaks into a quiet laugh, her shoulders shaking.

I rub her cheek with my thumb. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And I pull her in, hugging her to my chest and just wanting nothing more than to protect her and give her every damn thing she doesn’t have.

I wrap my free arm around her, and after a moment she gives in and snakes her arms around me, too, melting into me. We hold each other so tight that I don’t know if I’m holding her up or she’s holding me up, but for a moment, I’m afraid I’ll fall if I let her go.

“Bring ’em over,” I tell her. “It’ll take the pressure off you having to entertain them. I’ll get the floaties ready and order some pizza.”

She pulls back, sniffling, but there are no more tears pouring out of her eyes and she quirks a half-smile.

“Kids like cheese only,” she says, an air of peace settling back in her expression.

“Yeah, I remember.” I think Cole still likes cheese-only, actually.

She drops her bag by the door where it was before and casts me a look before leaving, an understanding settling between us. I’m not here to hurt her.

And providing I can stay the hell off her better than I did last night, then I won’t.

“I can’t do it!” Jensen yells, water dribbling off his lips.

The seven-year-old treads water, the goggles huge on his face. Below him, three dive rings stand upright on the bottom of the pool, and after I got him brave enough to hold onto my neck while I dived down to retrieve them, I thought it’s time he try.

Cramer is a twat, but his kids aren’t bad.

“Try to go feet first then,” I tell him. “Here, put your face in and watch me.”

The pool only goes to six feet, but I swim anyway, putting myself above the rings. Jordan is in the shallow end with Ava, who’s only two, and showing her how to blow bubbles in the water. I was relieved to see her come out in a more conservative bikini than that damn sea shell one, but I’m not finding the no-cleavage halter top of this one any easier to take, unfortunately.

“Ready?” I say, tearing my eyes off her soaked hair plastered to her back and look at Jensen.