Page 77 of Playboy’s Purgatory

“Yeah,” she sighs. “For Vanessa, honestly. She’s ten now and,” she blinks a few times and scrunches up her face, “everything is going to move faster now. I want to be able to have enough time with her.”

I want to go to her. I want to hold her. But she told me to sit.

“Come ‘ere,” my voice is low as I motion her toward me.

Lara narrows her eyes, but she does it. When she’s close enough, I wrap my arms around her and draw her between my thighs.

Her arms slide around my torso, and I try very hard not to clutch her too tightly to me. When she exhales, she lets go of a little more of her hurt.

I can feel it.

Fuck, I want to start every day like this.

In the kitchen of my woman’s bakery.

Watching her glow.

CHAPTER 19

LARA

Vanessa is curled up on the couch and looking through our movie wish list to pick which one we’ll be viewing tonight. Since we’re closed on Sunday, we can stay up a little later on Saturday. It’s why we always have a movie night.

It also means Sunday is for cleaning up and getting ready for the next week. Which no one enjoys. But, alas, it must be done.

After Playboy left this morning and Rumble brought Vanessa back, I was taken through every second of her time spent out and about. She had a lot to fill me in on and didn’t leave a single detail out of the retelling.

Which I’m glad she did because it made me feel better about the whole thing. If I didn’t know Graycie and Ezra as well as I do, and trust them, it wouldn’t have even been a possibility.

As the day wore on and dinner time was coming up, I was hoping Playboy would show up. And then I scolded myself for having such thoughts.

In one day, it would have been too much Playboy…Jettson? No, Playboy.

I’m not sure why I thought he would. Maybe because he asked what our plans were and I told him about movie night. He perked right the fuck up, his eagerness reminding me of a dog with not enough sense.

Just as we were about to eat, he texted me to let me know he had a client running long. I guess that meant he wasn’t planning on coming over?

I didn’t answer. Because I had no idea what to say.

When I sit down, I plop the bowl of popcorn between us and grab my blanket. Vanessa is already all snuggled in.

“Find something?”

She shoots me a look because she always finds something. Even if it’s a repeat.

As the movie starts and we snack, I can feel Vanessa’s unasked questions swirling around her. I’m not sure what she’s waiting for, but I know not to rush her. If I do, she shuts down and it never ends well.

“I really like Gramps,” Vanessa’s voice is conversational, but I can feel the importance in them.

“Good. I like him too.” I giggle before grabbing another handful of popcorn. “The man is into his sourdough.”

“I know,” she shoots me a knowing look, “I saw the operation up close. We baked a loaf. I got to score it.” It’s not the first time I’m hearing this from her.

We lapse into silence for a while, well, other than the crunch of butter coated deliciousness between our teeth. I know she’s not done.

“I like Jettson, too,” her voice is softer this time.

My heart stutters and I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s not looking at me.