“Hey, princess,” I say, helping her climb onto the bed.
“Morning, Mama.” Tinsley nuzzles her head into the crook of my neck, and I breathe in the scent of her innocence, pressing a kiss to the mess of blonde curls on the top of her head.
“Were you a good girl for Stella last night?”
“Yep. I ate all my brolloci and carrots, and we watched the Barbie princess movie, then I brushed my teeth and went to bed with Snuggles. He looked after me, so I didn’t have any scary dreams.” She holds up her bunny as proof.
My heart clenches as I squeeze her tight. I hate that my little girl has reason to have these nightmares. “I’m glad you had Snuggles to watch over you.”
She looks up at me with curious green eyes. “Did you have fun with Aunty Quinn?”
My traitorous brain goes straight to the toe-curling kiss with my masked man, and I clear my throat. “I sure did, princess. Come on. Let’s get up and make you some breakfast.”
“Can I have pancakes?”
“Of course you can.”
Tinsley throws her little arms around my neck and plants a soft kiss on my cheek. “You’re the best mama in the whole ‘tire world.”
Guilt weighs heavy in my stomach. I wish that were true, but if it were, my little girl would have no reason for her ‘scary dreams’. Not to mention, I should have been here with her last night after her supervised visit with her father yesterday. Seeing him every second weekend always seems tobring on the nightmares for her, although they are dwindling. It’s been at least a month and a half since the last one.
Pushing those thoughts down, I paste on a smile and chase her down the hallway to the small kitchen in our cosy two-bedroom home.
It’s a far cry from the mansion she was born into on the other side of Beckford, but I’ve done my best to turn it into a comfortable and safe space for her.
She sits on a stool at the kitchen bench, chomping on blueberries and raspberries, supervising while I mix up the batter for her dairy-free and gluten-free pancakes. When I place the giant stack in front of her, her sweet face lights up like it’s Christmas morning.
It’s these simple things that reassure me I’m doing the best for my daughter. I can’t change our past, but I can give her a better future. Which is why I need to push all thoughts of last night’s hottest kiss of my life out of my head. I don’t have room in my life for random hook-ups with hot strangers. Tinsley is my only priority.
The only reason I was at Euphoria last night was for my best friend’s hen’s party. She’s getting married in two weeks, and she’d heard about this sex club right here in Beckford that host masked nights once a month.
It took a fair bit of convincing to get me to leave Tinsley for the night. Quinn organised her eighteen-year-old niece, who occasionally baby-sits for me. I tried to back out twice, but my friends didn’t let me, saying I deserve to have some fun.
Being home now, seeing that Tinsley is fine despite me not being here to put her to bed for the first night sincewe moved in twelve months ago, lessens the guilt, but only slightly. My little girl has been through so much in her four short years, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her.
“Mama,” she says, peering at me with those wide green eyes. “Can I see Rett today?”
I smile and ruffle her hair. “Not today, Tins. Your brother had his friend’s birthday last night, so I don’t think he’ll be in any state to hang out today.”
She frowns. “Did he eat too much birthday cake?”
A laugh slips from my lips. “Something like that. He doesn’t start classes until Wednesday. I’ll see if he can take you to the park before then, okay?”
It warms my heart that she has such a good relationship with her half-brother. While his dad is a violent arsehole, my twenty-year-old stepson is the reason we got out before it was too late for me. He’s also the buffer between me and my ex-husband. I didn’t hesitate when the court appointed him as the supervisor for Tinsley’s visits with her father. While Everett may be indifferent to me, he loves his little sister, and I didn’t want my daughter subjected to a stranger.
I shoot him a text, then clean up the kitchen while Tinsley runs off to get dressed. The weather is nice, so we head outside, and she plays on her climbing frame. She giggles as she hangs upside down, bringing a smile to my lips. My daughter’s happiness is the only thing that matters to me.
As she plays, I sit beneath the giant oak tree, half-curled in the shade with my Kindle on my knee, reading a new paranormal rom-com about a woman who sells her soul toSatan’s son for a gluten-free donut. It’s both funny and steamy, and when I reach the first intimate scene, my face flushes as I imagine what it would be like with my masked stranger.
My thumb drifts to my bottom lip, tracing it absentmindedly as my thoughts slip back to the kiss last night. The firm pressure of his lips on mine, confident but not demanding. The way he took control, deepening it just enough to steal my breath and leave my pulse racing. Heat curls low in my stomach, and my cheeks heat, but it has nothing to do with the warm sunshine or my book. If he kissed me like that, imagine what else he could make me feel.
My phone beeps with an incoming text, jolting me out of my daydream, and I check on Tinsley before reaching for my phone.
Everett: I have a preseason fitness session on Monday, but I can pick her up from preschool on Tuesday and drop her home after dinner. That work?
Juliet: She’d love that. If you’re sure?
Everett: Of course. I’m always happy to hang out with the pipsqueak.
