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Dean looks like he wants to protest, but Mrs. Harris doesn’t seem to care. “Oh, sure. She’ll be thrilled to finish the cake episode.”

“Thank you.”

Dean’s body goes pliant under my hands as I push him across the hall. Once the door to his place closes behind us, I growl, “Why were you really meeting with Brennan?”

He rubs a hand over his eyes. Not sleeping well is catching up with him.

“Never mind, because I already know you’re trying to dig into those pills at Ella’s school.”

Dean’s mouth drops open. “How⁠—”

“Brennan assumed I knew because the two of us ‘practically live together.’ I don’t like it when you lie to me, Dean, and I don’t like looking stupid.”

He blinks. “I didn’t lie. I’ve never lied to you, Mike.”

“That’s a fucking lie right there.” I jab my finger into his chest. “And don’t tell me it wasn’t.”

“Fine. I left that part out because I didn’t want your judgment, okay? What’s it going to be this time, Mike? You gonna piss on me again to put me in my place? Let’s get it over with because Ella got an A on her spelling test and I promised her ice cream after school.”

Fucker. “You try to cut me out of the loop again, I’ll do worse than piss on you.” I honestly didn’t do that on purpose, but he keeps ‌bringing it up so I might as well take the credit. Not sure what I’m threatening exactly. If I have to, I can probably think of something.

Sliding my dick down his throat again might be a good starting place. After years of holding myself back from crossing a line like that with him, I’ve realized my mistake.

Can’t stop replaying the wet squeeze of his throat around me. The unsettling glow of trust in his eyes. Now, I want to do it again. And again. Times infinity.

“You’re taking me to that interview at Bardsden.”

Dean’s chest caves under my hand. “This isn’t the time for you to do whatever weird territorial shit you do, Mike. If Ella doesn’t get into this school, I’m going to have to move someplace with a lower cost of living or something because I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Eventually, Ellia’s going to wonder what to tell people her daddy does for a living. I need to say something other than explaining to her what a whore is.”

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself. She thinks you’re a personal assistant.”

“Am I, though? She’s so danged smart she’ll probably be running circles around me by the time she hits the fourth grade. Someday, she’s going to ask why my personal assistance is needed as such odd hours, don’t you think?”

Probably, but I’m reluctant to agree. “Then what’s the plan, Dean? After you get her into this pricey as hell private school. Is it going to be easy to keep whoring yourself out in Belle Argo?”

We both know the answer. Every day it wears on him more.

“I don’t know.” He presses back into the door, sort of wrapping his arms around himself. I’ve seen it before, when he’s feeling out of his depth. Truthfully, this moment makes it hard to hold on to my frustration. When he looks so lost like this, my first instinct is to put my arms around him. But that’s dangerous territory.

“She can’t stay at that school, Mike. That’s all the plan I have. The rest is a problem for later.”

“I’m only suggesting that you need to think about it a little more.” The first thing I did when we got into this business was to get to work on an exit strategy. It’s not exactly a career that allows for longevity. But Dean never seems to want my advice.

“Yeah, well, that’s difficult to do when you’re—” He cuts himself off, but for a second he looks devastated. “When you’re a single parent. There’s always something coming at me. I’ve barely taken a breath since she came home from the hospital.”

Except the thing is I know what he was about to say. Something about how he’s stupid. About how he doesn’t know how to take care of her.

All that shit his father used to say to him really got stuck in his head.

Taking one step and then another, I press my chest to his, sandwiching him against the door. “No name-calling, Dean. And don’t worry. We’ll make sure Ella gets into that school. We’ll make sure those people believe you and I are the most disgustingly in-love dads who ever existed.”

He rubs his thumb over his eyebrow‌, barely able to make eye contact with me. Which is strange, because of all the people and things Dean’s afraid of, I’m not one of them. Yeah, I know he tries not to piss me off. God forbid he lose his free babysitter and all, but that’s a different thing. Right now he looks genuinely nervous.

“I guess I don’t see how you’re going to convince them we’re in a committed relationship when you can barely contain how much you hate me.”

“We do fine convincing our friend group.”

“That’s the thing—we don’t always. Most of the time, sure. They can tell sometimes. I know they can. I see the looks they get on their faces. They’ve asked questions.”