“Yeah,” she said dreamily, lying on her pillow.
Of course, she was smitten with Drew. Forget that he was her father; he was a gorgeous hunk of man doting on her every wish—in practically a palace compared to our apartment.
“This pillow is nice. I like it,” she said.
Duh. “I know, baby girl. It is.”
“I like it here. We watched movies, and Drew has two toilets in his bathroom.”
A bidet, I presumed, but I wasn’t explaining that now. “That’s good, honey. I’m glad he could take good care of you.”
I swung my legs over to stand up from the bed.
“He knows my daddy.”
And like that, I fell backward into the bed and squeezed my fists. I knew it was only a matter of time.
Drew always got what he wanted. Years ago, he came into my life, snatched me up as his star player, and made me his lover. Okay, he didn’t make me. I went willingly. But then he exited my life at his convenience.
“Mom, are you okay?” Darla’s scratchy voice pulled me out of my rage, her hand gently patting my shoulder.
As I suspected, Drew was steamrolling right back into my life. Like he’d never left.
He was my ex. Darla’s father. My soon-to-be lover. He wanted it all, and wouldn’t stop until he got it. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought.
“I’m okay, sweetie. He did know your dad. What did he tell you?”God only knows.
“He said my dad thinks about me a lot. He knows it. For sure.” She twisted her rat’s nest of hair around her fingers.
I squeezed my eyes shut and shoved back the tears when a knock came on the door.
“Come in,” I called, and Darla popped up to meet the opening door.
There he was, in workout shorts and a T-shirt, his scorpion tattoo peeking above the neckline, carrying a tray with coffee and a can of Arnie Palmer. I remembered a time I’d been fascinated with the idea of his tattoos, and then how I’d felt when I finally ran my fingers over them.
They were meant to protect his heart. But what about mine? And Darla’s?
I looked at my watch for the first time since waking up. It was nine. “Wow, I just realized how late it is.”
He walked in and set the tray down on the night table. “I figured you were beat, so I hit the gym and came back.”
Of course he did.
“How are you, superstar?”
“Better.” Darla hopped around the room on one foot until she was next to the tray. “Can I have that drink?”
“You betcha.” He winked and ruffled the top of her messy bedhead.
Then, like it was an everyday occurrence, he cracked open the can and emptied it into a plastic cup for her, and poured a cup of coffee for me, mixing in the milk.
“And for your mom, coffee.”
My thanks came out more like a croak, and then I focused on my daughter. “Looks like you’re off one more day, Dar. Today, you’ll rest up, and then back to school tomorrow.” I stood, sipping my coffee and smoothing my rumpled oxford with my free hand.
“Mom, can we get bagel sandwiches for lunch? Since I’m home?”
“Sure, sweetie. But first, let’s help Drew make the bed.”
