“Let’s get you ready for the day, little man. Your mama should be home soon, and I know she’s missed you.”
He babbles back in whatever language it is babies speak as I hoist him into my arms.
I lay him on his changing table, and my ovaries all but spontaneously combust when he stretches his arms and legs out so wide his little back bows off the changing pad.
“You, sir, need a fresh diaper.” He gives me a toothy grin, like he’s proud of his output. “Men… you’re all the same,” I mutter as I grab a diaper from the drawer.
Once he’s changed, I grab a onesie and get him dressed. “Well, there’s nothing left to do but face the music.” And by music, I mean sexy jackass in the kitchen who has a note from my stalker.Potato, po-tah-to.
I walk into the kitchen with James on my hip, expecting to make him some breakfast, drink some coffee, and maybe get lectured by Ellis. But my steps falter at the sight of him pacing and tugging on the ends of his hair, looking more tortured than I’ve ever seen him.
“Um.” I scoot past him and secure James in his high chair. “Are you okay?”
“No.” He drags his eyes over me. “I’m so far from fucking okay, I don’t even know where to start.”
“I hear the beginning is a great place.” I go the long way around the island to the fridge to grab the eggs and some blueberries. “Try there.”
“He. Watched. Us,” Ellis says through gritted teeth.
“Wha-what do you mean?” I ask, ignoring the way my hand shakes as I reach for a bowl to mix the eggs in.
“That motherfucker sat outside of this house and watched us through the window. He watched us as we fought, as we ate dinner, as we slept. Said he wanted to break my hands for touching you.”
“Oh,” I whisper, shame wrapping around me like an unwanted blanket on a summer day. It’s hot and suffocating, and I hate it. “That.”
“Yeah, Princess. That.” He crosses his arms and glares. “What are we going to do about it?”
“We?” I stare down at the eggs I’m whisking, avoiding his gaze. I’m too split open to make eye contact with him right now. Especially since I’m not sure if I’ll see judgment or pity—or which one would be worse.
“Yes,we,Scarlet. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
“You don’t even like me,” I mutter as he grabs a pan and starts the burner for me. James claps and squeals, as if to emphasis my point.
“Doesn’t mean this shit is okay.” He steps back, and I slide seamlessly into the space he vacated, pouring the eggs into the pan.
“Agreed.” I let the eggs sit a minute before pushing them around the pan with a spatula. “But I’m not really sure what to do.”
He pauses mashing James’s blueberries. “I’d start with a police report,” he says, looking at me like I’m an idiot.
“I didn’t think it’d help.” I turn off the burner and plate the eggs, fanning them to speed up the cooling process.
James smacks his hands on his high chair tray.
“Your food’s coming, little dude,” Ellis coos, using that soft voice he reserves for James. “Scar’s making sure you don’t burn yourself.”
The baby only babbles and bangs the tray harder.
“Here you go.” I set the plate down with flourish. James wastes no time, grabbing a fistful of eggs and smashing them into his face.
“I mean it, Scarlet. You need to file a police report.”
“What’s the point? I know literally nothing about the person leaving the notes. Not their name, what they look like… literally nothing.”
“The point,” he growls, “is a paper trail.”
And that’s it. That’s my tipping point. I wrap my arms around myself, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs as the tears I’ve been fighting since I woke up break free. “I can’t do this, Ellis.”
“Hey, whoa, no. Please don’t cry.” He sounds… concerned. Which only makes me cry harder. “Fuck.Come here.”
