Fuck. Maybe Dilynne is right. Maybe I do need a break. Maybe taking Elodie to the game without the baby will give us both a break.
And maybe Elodie’s anger is her reaction to fighting her feelings as well.
That’s when inspiration strikes, and I instantly know what I need to do.
Words may not be my forte, but actions are. And it’s time to do something about these feelings and show her that I care, even if I’m risking a lot of pain in the process.
***
“Shit.” Another splatter of pink paint hits my arm as I push the roller against the wall. Apparently, I forgot that less paint on the roller is better because this is the fourth time I’ve painted myself pink.
Twisting around, I peer down at Remy lying on her playmat, kicking and making noises, oblivious to what I’m going through. “I sure hope you like this room when it’s done, baby bear, because I’m never painting it again.”
It’s just after five in the evening, and I’ve been in this spare bedroom since we got home from Carol and Nick’s. As soon as Remy threw up on Dilynne and she freaked out, I knew that was my cue to leave and try to make a statement to my nanny.
The sound of the front door opening and closing alerts me that Elodie must be home.
Shit.
I was hoping to have this done, but painting a room while taking care of a four-month-old is no small feat.
“Henley?” Elodie calls out from the front of the house.
“I’m in Remy’s room!”
Her footsteps travel down the hallway and when she finally peeks her head through the doorway, my heart lunges at the sight of her.
God, she’s so fucking gorgeous—that long, dark hair, those gray eyes, and those lips that I can still taste. But she’s so much more than her looks.
Her heart is so big that I’m afraid it might swallow me whole. Her sarcasm makes me want to know the next thing she’s going to say, and she’s so fucking smart that she makes me feel inadequate.
Yeah, this is so much more than physical attraction. I’m so fucking screwed.
I’ve never really looked at a woman beyond the physical need we could both satisfy for one another, but Elodie makes me question just how surface level my life has been until she and Remy entered it.
And now that she’s back in my house, I can honestly say that I’m really fucking glad she’s home.
“Henley? You do realize that half of you is covered in pink paint, right?”
“Yes, El. I’m aware.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, smirking at me. “Okay, just making sure.” Moving her eyes around the room, she asks, “What inspired this?”
I set the paint roller down in the tray and grab the rag off of the ladder, wiping paint from my skin while making my way over to her. Remy is still babbling, but Elodie and I are focused on each other.
“My daughter needs a room, like you said. So, I thought pink would be a good color, but I don’t know what else to do.” Shrugging, I reach out and gently tuck my fingers under Elodie’s chin to keep her eyes on mine. “I—I need your help,Elodie, yet again.”
There’s such a loaded meaning to that statement, and when Elodie smiles up at me, I feel like I made the right decision today by finally doing something.
“Yes, I can help you, Henley,” she says softly.
“Good.” My eyes drop down to her lips, the strongest urge to kiss her again coming over me.
Remy starts to grow fussy on her playmat, which checks out. I usually get about ten to fifteen minutes before she’s grown bored and needs something else to entertain her.
Elodie turns her attention to my daughter, bending over to pick her up from the floor. “Hey, baby bear. I missed you today,” she says while placing a kiss on her chubby cheek. “Glad you seem to be doing better.”
“She is. The medicine has done wonders for her mood, and Carol got her to nap for almost two hours earlier, thank God.”
