A Baby Affair (Parent Portal 2)

“You’re okay,” he quickly assured her, reaching for his pants. He had to get out of there. To get home. Back to his own world. To figure out what the rest of his life was going to look like and start heading in that direction. He shoved his boxers into his pocket.

“I’m just going to go,” he told her. Their appointment had concluded. Their meeting was done. “I wouldn’t eat the chicken if I were you.” Wherever it was. He found his socks. Shoved them into the pocket with boxers, leaving them all half hanging out down his thigh. “It’s been too long at room temperature.”

“Okay. Are you...should we not have done this?”

“Yes. Yes, we should, and I’m fine. Just need to get home.” His shirt on, he rearranged the socks and boxers, stuffing them into three different pockets, so that they’d be fully contained, not sticking out when he walked in front of the security cameras between her bedroom and his SUV in the visitor parking lot outside. “Where do you want to meet tomorrow and what time?” he asked.

It was their usual goodbye—setting up the next ride. And all he had at the moment.

He needed a hot shower.

A beer.

A conversation with his dog.

He absolutely did not need to replay, ever again, his daughter’s touch against his side. “It’s a shorter day for me...” she started when he asked her about their next bike ride. She was going to cancel. He’d thought about it, too. But didn’t want to let it go yet... “So...is it okay with you if we do the college campus again?”

“Yes. Four-thirty?” He grabbed the lifeline before she could change her mind.

She hadn’t left the bed, but he knew from her frown that she was confused. At the very least. He had everything he needed, even his shoes on bare feet.

“Yeah. Four-thirty’s good.”

“See you then.” With a quick nod, he was out of there.

Chapter Eighteen

She felt like she’d just lost her best friend. Scrambling an egg to eat with a piece of dry toast, Amelia caught a whiff of chicken from the garbage can where she’d deposited the bag Craig had brought, which she’d dropped on the floor just outside her door as she’d taken the man to bed. The thought of it made her cry.

So she went around the house collecting trash from all of the other cans, tied the drawstrings and, in brightly colored floral pajama pants and a T-shirt, she walked the bag out to the chute in the elevator foyer.

By the time she got back, her eggs had started to congeal in the pan. She added a little milk. Stirred them vigorously, let them cook another second and then ate them straight out of the pan.

You did what you had to do to feed the children. That was a rendition of a line from one of her favorite books recommended at some point during her years of counseling. She had a child to feed, so she ate congealed eggs when all she really wanted to do was curl up in her sheets, smell the man who’d been in them with her and watch television.

He’d cut out of there like a bat out of hell. Which had been the right thing to do. They weren’t in love. Having a relationship. They’d made an appointment to have sex. And they’d been done. It was the wasted chicken and salad that made her weepy. Chicken and hormones.

Craig made sure they had a ride time and place established before he left.

He wasn’t done with her yet.

She took that thought to the living room couch where she pulled a blanket over her tender and still-buzzing body, shoved a throw pillow under her head, turned on the television and started to cry.

* * *

Craig spent a good bit of the night concerned about Amelia. Hoping his abrupt departure hadn’t upset her, too much. Knowing it had.

Talk about “wham-bam, thank you, ma’am.” What an ass he was.

And he thought a lot about Isabella, too. Trying to figure out where she fit into his world. Could he really just walk away with only occasional tidbits? And the reality was, he had no other choice. No legal recourse if Amelia wouldn’t allow more. Would he be content, at peace, just with the knowledge that Amelia could call if she needed him? Could he trust that she would?

He asked the hard questions. Got no definitive answers.

Except one. He had no choice.

He had no rights, no power, to change any of it even if he wanted to do so. Nor would he even try. Amelia had opened her life to him in good faith. She’d trusted him not to try to insinuate himself into her child’s life. He had to honor that trust, at least.

Half thinking she wouldn’t be at their designated spot on Tuesday, he loaded the bikes and showed up, anyway. He was a show-up kind of guy.