He whines and licks my face as an answer, and I just smile down at him, Beckett joining us not long after.
We spend the evening laughing, kissing, and cuddling. All three of us ended up in bed watching a movie until we all fell asleep.
23
BECKETT
Ifeel good today, almost optimistic. It’s a weird fucking feeling, but as I sit at my desk, I can’t keep my thoughts from last night out of my head.
Every moan, every time she said my name, every time her nails dug into my back, I remember all of it. I want more. I want all of it, and I never want to let her go.
I don’t know how she manages to have this effect on me, but she does.
“Knock, knock,” Briar says, tapping at my door. I look up from the papers on my desk.
“Hey, shut the door,” I say, my good mood souring just a little at the sight of him. Sloane hadn’t ever officially answered my question about whether or not I could talk to him, but I need to know for myself.
He shuts the door, slipping out of his suit jacket before sitting down in the chair across from my desk. He crosses one foot over his knee, and I look at him for several long seconds.
Sloane looks nothing like either of her parents, which is weird since Lottie looks just like Monica, and Kaden is almost identical to Briar.
“How was your weekend?” I ask, leaning back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest casually.
“It was good, yours?”
“Not bad.”
“How’s your new dog?” He asks, and for some reason, it pisses me off.My dog. He wants to know about my fucking dog, and not his daughter.
“He’s good. His name is Mocha.”
“I still can’t believe you got a dog. And that name is very…feminine,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Well, Sloane named him, and he makes her happy,” I say, trying to stay as calm as possible.
“You care about Sloane’s feelings now, do you?” he asks, raising an amused eyebrow at me.
“Yeah, I do. I actually wanted to talk to you about something that Kaden told me.”
His brows scrunch in confusion at the sudden change in topic. “Ok, what?”
“Did you lie to him and say that you invited Sloane to California?” I keep it simple. Any more words, and I feel like I might reach across the table and strangle him.
“It wasn’t a lie, Ididinvite her.”
“No, you didn’t.” I don’t have the energy to believe his bullshit. I know Sloane, and if she had been invited, she would have made it work.
“How would you know?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Because why the fuck would she not have gone?”
“She said she had no money,” he says with a shrug, and that’s when I know he’s fucking lying.
“Why don’t you like her?” I ask.
“It’s none of your fucking business, Beckett. And if all you wanted to do today was interrogate me about my children, thenI’ll see my way out,” He hisses. My jaw clenches when he doesn’t deny my accusation.
I don’t say anything, letting him sit with the question.
