My phone chimes and I pull it out, reading the text Cliff sent to confirm Tate just got into the car. I pocket it again. He’ll let me know once she reaches her destination safely.
On her date.
With Vincent.
I drag in a slow breath as Claudia strokes a fingertip over the piano like she’s admiring it.
She hated it.
She would tell me it was too loud when I played.
My jaw clenches as she presses down on a key making a lone note ring out.
“Where’s Molly?”
“She’s two years old. She’s in bed,” I answer harshly, but she doesn’t flinch, continuing to hover by the piano.
“Oh, of course,” she murmurs.
“Why are you here, Claudia?”
She tilts her head to one side, exposing her slender neck before she turns and faces me.
“I’m here to quote a newly married couple on their apartment re-design. They want a whole re-style.” Her eyes slide over to a white vase on a side table, and she smiles. “That was an engagement present, remember?”
“I meant here. In mine and Molly’s home?” I grind out each word, noting the way her eyes pinch a fraction when I use Molly’s name.
She leans back against the piano, arching her spine in a stretch, and pushing her breasts forward in her dress. Her expression softens. “You’re looking really well, Sull. Being a daddy suits you…. How are you finding it?”
“What kind of a question is that?” I spit.
Her face falls and for a brief moment I feel guilty. She was never a bad person. She just couldn’t love my daughter the way she deserves. Because Molly isn’t hers and she couldn’t see past that.
Claudia’s attention moves to a photograph on top of the piano. It’s of Molly on her first birthday. She’s sitting on my lap while she blows out the candle on her cake. Her curls were shorter then. She had one that would stick up on top of her head no matter how much I tried to brush it down.
“I was wrong, Sull,” Claudia says gently. She picks up the frame and I walk closer to her, fighting the urge to snatch it from her hands and place it back where it belongs.
“Yeah, you were. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Claudia puts the frame back and nods. “I can see howmuch you love her.” She sweeps her long blonde hair over her shoulder and a hint of her perfume washes over me. “We loved one another once too, remember?”
She’s still looking at the picture of Molly, which means she doesn’t see the way I stiffen. We were going to get married. I was the one who proposed. But I never actually told her those words.
I never said it.
“Nothing’s been that good since. I’ve tried, I really have. I met someone great and then…” She turns and looks at me with glassy eyes. “I’ve never been able to forget about you, Sull. You were my one. You’ve always been my one.”
“Two,” I utter.
“What?” Her eyes narrow, trying to catch my words.
“Two,” I repeat. “I’m not a one anymore. I’m a two. Me and Molly. You know that. You had that choice.”
“And I’d make a different one if I could go back, I swear.” She reaches for me and winds her arms around my neck.
A small groan vibrates my throat at her touch, and I lean into it, my eyelids hooding. It’s been weeks since I’ve made it to The Lanceford. What the hell have I been thinking? I need sex to help me de-stress. No wonder I’ve felt so tightly coiled recently. I barely even get the opportunity to jerk off with Molly climbing into bed with me some nights. And then she wakes up so early and wants to play in the shower with her toys as I wash, so even that’s off-limits.
“We could try again. I can move back to New York. We could be us again.”
