Sex, Not Love
Jesus, I was not ready to answer that question. Even more so, I wasn’t sure I could answer that question. Garrett would certainly want custody of his daughter when he got out, wouldn’t he?
“Izzy, I...I don’t think that decision is up to me, or you, alone.”
Her hopeful face fell. “It’s up to Dad?”
“I guess if you and I decided it would be in your best interest to stay with me, and your dad disagreed, a judge would have to decide.”
She looked down, seeming to think that answer over for a minute. Then she hit me point blank, staring straight into my eyes. “Would you want me to live with you, if that’s what I wanted?”
The answer fell from my lips before I could even contemplate it. “Yes.”
But I did not have a good feeling that things would go smoothly if it turned out this was what Izzy wanted.
Chapter 22
Natalia
I was a jittery, nervous wreck.
Somehow I’d managed to keep busy this week and hadn’t wasted much time dwelling on my upcoming date, or rather upcoming weekend, with Hunter, until now. It was two in the afternoon on Friday, and I’d already finished all of my appointments and written up all of my case notes. Hoping to relax and unwind, I’d drawn a bath and tossed in a sweet pea bath bomb I’d picked up on the way home yesterday.
Like the rest of my apartment, the bathroom was small, so it steamed up just from filling the tub with hot water. Since Izzy wasn’t home, I left the door open to let out some of the steam and shed my clothes before settling into the hot water. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and inhaled the amazing scent of my grandmother’s garden. Totally what I needed.
My phone buzzed from the sink, interrupting my peace, and my eyes fluttered open. Finding a penetrating eye staring at me from the corner of the tub, I jumped from the water, sloshed half the bath all over the floor, and nearly slipped on the wet tile.
The cat.
The damn cat.
You’d think the presence of only one eye would have given me a clue.
Catpernicus had strolled in through the open door and perched himself up on the edge of the tub, nearly scaring the life out of me. With the way he continued to eye me (no pun intended), I grabbed the towel from the rack to cover myself.
Seriously? I was on edge today.
I took a few deep breaths and went to grab my phone, the buzzing of which had been the catalyst to my near disaster, and suddenly realized my cell was no longer on the sink. Dread settled into my stomach, but I looked around everywhere, leaving what I feared most for last.
Not on the floor.
Didn’t fall into the sink.
No miraculous leap into the nearby garbage can.
My eyes dropped to the tub.
Shit.
There sat my phone—on the bottom of the half-full bath.
In my frenzied scramble to get out, I’d grabbed the sink and must’ve knocked it into the water. I scooped it up, but of course, it was too late. The phone was dead, and I couldn’t imagine there would be a resurrection.
Though I was aggravated with myself, there was really nothing I could do about it at the moment, so I patted my phone dry and attempted to settle back into the tub. Finding it impossible to relax, I decided to finish my grooming. I shaved every piece of hair from my legs and armpits, and then scrutinized the Brazilian wax job I’d had done yesterday to make sure it looked just right. Catpernicus sat dutifully on the edge of the tub, licking and cleaning his paws. I’d arranged for my neighbor, Mrs. Whitman, who also had a cat, to take him for the weekend. I wondered if perhaps Catpernicus was getting ready for his own date.
Packing my bag was a challenge of its own. I picked out my laciest lingerie, but wasn’t sure what, if anything, I’d be wearing beyond that. Which resulted in overpacking—something to lounge around in, something to go out, jeans and a T-shirt…what if it rained? I imagined the look on Hunter’s face if I showed up with rain gear and two suitcases. The poo
r man would probably have a heart attack, thinking I was moving in.
Butterflies took up residence in my belly for the rest of the afternoon. We’d texted a few times this week and decided that rather than him picking me up, I’d go to his place right after dropping off Izzy. Hunter lived pretty close to Garrett’s mother’s house. I’d be taking Izzy straight from practice, and I didn’t want her to see the suitcase, so I stashed it in the trunk. I needed to be careful with the example I set, especially now that she was almost sixteen and interested in boys. Teenagers listen to your actions, not what you tell them is right or wrong.