My neighbors had left casseroles in the cooler I use for the porch pickup, and after transferring the food to Tupperware containers, I wash and dry their dishes and set them on the pink shelf on the porch where my non refrigerated baked goods go.Then, I walk around my tiny house, looking at the life I rebuilt here once Eddie left and something dawns on me.I don’t miss it.I built a life for a single mama, but not one that I could share with the man I love.I want more for me, for West, and damn sure want more for my son.
Aside from the crime scene that had taken place in my living room, nothing had been cleaned in over a month, and there were quite a few things out of place.As I reorder some papers back into a drawer, a bright brochure catches my eye.I study the Parisian themed worn paper, and the glisteningcroquembouche.In another life, I’d dreamed of attending this school.I’d saved the tuition fees, and had all my hopes dashed when Eddie insisted we use the money to start another firm, which I guess was just code for funding his life with his mistress.
I pull out my phone and type in the web address on the brochure.A flashy pop up fills the screen “New intake closing soon”.I set my cell down, but the brochure in my lap taunts me.And then I do something I’ve wanted to for years, something just for me, something for my future, and my son’s future, something I should have done long ago.I fill out the online form, pay the application fee, and for once, I don’t put my dreams on hold for someone else’s happiness.
Chapter Thirty-six
West
“Baby mama, I’m home,” I announce, as I enter the house to find Dais in my kitchen with Waylon wrapped tightly to her chest in a soft fabric sling.It’s been almost a month since Eddie’s funeral.Our days are long, and between the ranch, worshiping her body between the sheets, and caring for a teething Waylon, we barely get enough sleep.But I wouldn’t change it for the world.
“Hi,” she says over her shoulder, stirring a pot of—actually, I don’t know what the hell she’s cooking and I don’t care.Everything she makes is magic,she’sfucking magic, and I’m one lucky son of a bitch.I wrap my arms around them both from behind and press a kiss to her neck.
“Hi, darlin’.Not gonna lie, I love coming home to you two.”
She turns in my arms and plants a soft kiss against my lips, “We love you coming home.”
I pull her closer, careful not to squash a peacefully sleeping Waylon.I dart my tongue along her lower lip and she moans.Which, of course, wakes the baby.“Hey, little ma—”
Daisy claps a hand over my mouth.“Hush, he’ll go back to sleep if you don’t engage.”He lets out a startled cry, his little lip turning down in a pout.“Too late.”
“Sorry, my bad.”
“It’s fine, this is almost ready to go in the oven anyway.I’ll just feed him and put him down for the night.”
“Smells good.Can I help?”
“Nope, I’m making chicken pot pie, so it’s all kind of done.”
“What’s that?”she asks, nodding in the direction of the stack of mail I put down.
“Oh, I swung by your house and collected your mail.”
She presses a kiss to my cheek.“Thanks, cowboy.”Daisy unfastens the sling and pulls a screaming Waylon out of it.Her hips sway as she rocks him toward the living room.God I love this woman.I’m hit with the realization that I want a whole goddamn army of kids under our feet and in our hair, and I want to have a hell of a lot of fun making them.Of course, I haven’t clued her in on this plan yet, so I should probably keep those thoughts to myself until she’s recovered fully from Waylon’s birth.
My phone rings in my pocket and I fish it out.Rhett’s number pops up on the screen.“I gotta take this.”
