“Did anything happen between the both of you?” heasked.
“No!” I snapped, agitated. “He’s married. His wife is in rehab, and he’s—” I couldn’t finish the statement. I didn’t know what he was or what he thought, save for the bit about he’d want to give me all of him because I deserved to be worshiped andcherished.
"A man? And he's going through something horrible with his wife, and you were there to help him through it. You're spending time together. Everything is fun and stress-free. You both start feeling things,naturalthings…” He shifted closer to me, practically laying his entire body over my desk. “But when his wife comes back, where will that leaveyou?”
Inodded.
“Has he come on to you? Said things like his wife would never findout.”
My head snapped up. God, I must have looked wild. "No. See, that's what the problem is, Ryan. That's the part you got wrong. He told me that I was worth more. That he wouldn't touch me because he couldn't give all of himself to me, and I deserved to be with someone whocould."
Ryan leaned back, a curious look on his face. "Really?"
“I practically threw myself at him last night. Told him I’d fuck him in the back of mycar.”
His eyes widened. “And?”
“And he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t touchme.”
“So what did youdo?”
I stood up, thinking about what I did after, then rubbed my sweaty hands down my slacks. I thought about the silent drive home and the echo of his words, and feeling, for the first time since I lost my child, maybe I was worthy of more than I was givingmyself.
“I went home alone. And I feltfucking beautiful, and strong, and worthy. Then I gotdrunk.”
* * *
Ihad boughta bottle of Merlot, and it sat on the kitchen counter almost empty as we finished our sixth game of Candy Land. Addison was crowned grand champion, winning all but one game, and she hooted and danced around with tired eyes and exhaustedlimbs.
"It's thirty minutes past bedtime, how about a story and a tuck-in?" Dylan had bathed her right after dessert, since she'd gotten my homemade pudding pie caked in her hair somehow. Afterward, we sat on the floor around the coffee table and played game after game, laughing endlessly. It was kind ofperfect.
“Can you tell me the story about the princess who saved the castle?” she asked with ayawn.
Dylan smiled up at me. “Thanks,” hemouthed.
Despite Ryan’s pleas for me to stay away from temptation, I still went to Dylan’s house for dinner. I was a glutton for punishment. But I had a plan: keep looking down at his wedding ring, spend time with the kids, not him, and leaveearly.
I was fine until I realized his ring finger was bare. I stared down at it all through dinner, wanting to ask about it but never finding the right time where Addison wouldn’t hear. Did something happen with Sheri I didn’t know about? I looked away the minute he caught me looking, trying to remember my plan for the night.Look at ring, play with kids, leave. I didn't take a bare finger into account; it messed with myhead.
It didn’t help at all that he smiled stupidly at me whenever he caught me glancing at his hand. I was compulsive about it, too, hoping each time it would miraculously appear there, a visible boundary for my questionable morals to bounceoff.
Once she was tucked into bed, Addison fell asleep instantly. I didn’t even reach the part of the story where I needed to come up with the princess’ name, which was when she'd always chime in with her opinions. I just spoke slowly, and her eyelids lowered and lowered, then she was out. I leaned over her bed and pecked a kiss to her forehead, whispering agoodnight.
“Is she asleep already?” Dylan asked as I stepped out into the hallway in front of her bedroomdoor.
“Yep. I think she was sleeping before her head even hit the pillow,” I whispered. “Ben’s asleep,too?”
“Yeah,” he whisperedback.
His eyes lingered on mine, as he leaned his shoulder against the wall, hands shoved deep in his front pockets. He looked gorgeous, like some model on the cover of a magazine. I had to tear my eyes off him, doing so with much effort, then walked pasthim.
"Why aren't you wearing your wedding ring?" I asked as I reached thekitchen.
I stopped walking and looked back at him, waiting for an answer. He looked lost, and I wanted so badly to run back to him and wrap my arms around his massive, bulky frame and hold him. But before I could humiliate myself again, I scrubbed my hands over my face and hair and pushed myself into thekitchen.
“Never mind, I don’t want to know,” Imumbled.
Being that close to him and the kids was making me crazy.I shouldn’t be here any longer—it was too easy to slip myself into the role of mother and wife—I longed for that in my life so much. I just needed to leave, and I'd beokay.
