“Do you have a favorite?”
“Now and Then,” she says proudly. “A classic, and one that never lets me down.”
“Were you even born when that movie came out?”
She swats at me playfully, but my lips curl up into a smile I can’t control. Fuck, she’s fun to get riled up. And as soon as I realize I’m enjoying myself, my lips fall and I drop my gaze back down to my daughter who lets out a big yawn.
“No, I wasn’t born yet. But my mom let me watch it when she deemed I was old enough, and I became obsessed. To this day, I still want to go to a cemetery at night and see if I can talk to the dead.”
“You’re all on your own with that one.”
Laughing, she says, “Are you scared of ghosts?”
“No, but I know better than to mess with shit I don’t understand.”
“Life after death fascinates me,” she continues. “Especially those that die young. It always makes me so sad to think of people not getting to leave a mark on this world.”
“Is that important to you?” I ask, even though my heart is pounding as I realize how deep this conversation is getting. But fuck if I don’t want to keep talking to her, keep getting to know who this woman really is.
Her smile is soft and quick. “It is. But lately? I just don’t know what that mark will be.”
Remy starts to get fussy, squirming in my arms. “Looks like she’s had enough of this conversation.”
Elodie nods, reaching for her. “Yeah, probably a little morbid for a three-month-old.” Kissing Remy’s cheek, she meets my eyes. “I’ll handle bath time while you do the dishes, and then maybe we can watch that movie?”
Nerves race through me, but I’m not sure why.
Maybe it’s because you’ve never watched a movie with a woman at home before, Henley.
But the look in her eyes right now—hope mixed with sadness—has me agreeing to her request. “Sure.” The smile that blooms across her face makes my chest swell with panic and infatuation again.Fuck.
“Sounds great. Thanks, Henley,” she says and then heads down the hallway to bathe my daughter while I sit there, wondering what the hell is happening inside my body.
You’re getting attached, Henley.
“Shit,” I grumble, standing from my chair and heading to the kitchen sink where a pile of dirty dishes awaits me.
As I clean, I wrestle with the realization that I’m getting used to this woman being around.
Finding Elodie in the kitchen, cooking me dinner, smiling at me as I walked into my house.
Having someone to talk to in the evening about the day and having conversations with her about nothing and everything at the same time.
Her dropping off my wallet this morning when I left it at home.
I like having her in my home and in my life. And that’s a real fucking problem because she’s not staying.
Nope. Remy and I are better off alone.
And I’ve been left one too many times to hold out hope that this time could be different.
Chapter 7
Henley
Popcorn, Paternity Results, and Peer Pressure
A pack of screaming kids rushes past me as I enter the Hart Winery courtyard with Remy strapped to my chest in a carrier and my new diaper bag slung over my back.
