Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
I washed most of the sex scent away, but still…
I certainly don’t feel like Dad of the Year.
And if Clover gives notice before Monday morning, I’m going to be in deep shit. I have a travel game next week and, if my nanny quits, there’s no one to watch the girls while I’m gone. Not to mention the fact that Ava and Bella would be devastated, forced to deal with another unexpected loss after they’ve already lost so much.
I drive home in the dark, feeling like garbage.
I get the kids ready for bed, dread filling my stomach, and tuck them in so full of regret, I can’t look myself in the eye as I brush my teeth.
Sleep doesn’t come easily, either. I lie awake hour after hour without hearing a peep from the road outside. Either Clover’s decided to stay out extra late or she’s gone home with someone else.
She might be fucking me out of her system with a guy she met on the dance floor right now…
The thought opens up a black hole of emotions I refuse to examine too closely as I roll onto my side and wait for the sun to rise, hoping things might look better in the morning.
Spoiler: they do not look better in the morning.
And by the time the girls and I leave for a Dinosaurs and Donuts event at the museum at ten, Clover still isn’t home.
I’m about to text her to make sure she’s okay, when I see a notification that I missed in the morning bustle.
It’s from Clover and reads simply—Stayed at a friend’s house last night, so I wouldn’t have to drag home late and risk waking you guys. May stay here tonight, too. But I’ll be there bright and early Monday morning for the girls. No worries. See you then, Boss.
Boss.
I’m still her boss. She isn’t quitting, and that is…good.
It really is.
So, why does it make me feel even more like shit than I did before?
Sixteen
CLOVER
The Following Weekend…
I can no longer deny that I have issues.
Maybe even serious issues.
Thankfully, an addiction to cigarettes isn’t one of them.
But that’s not going to stop me from taking a smoke break. Everyone else at The Wall takes at least three a shift, and I’m done losing out on break time because I’m one of the “good girls.”
Hell, I may be done being a “good girl.” Period.
What has being a good girl ever gotten me? Not much as far as I can tell.
It sure as hell hasn’t gotten me laid, I can tell you that.
“And then, he went right back to pretending we were just friends,” I say, sucking on my toothpick before exhaling a vigorous stream of white air into the February chill. “That we’ve only ever been friends. And that his hand was never down my pants in a back hallway at a pizza place, while his kids played downstairs.”
Tully, the other bartender on this deathly slow shift, gapes. “That’s insane.”
“I know, right?” I agree, jabbing my fake cigarette her way.
“You didn’t talk about it? Like…at all?”
I shake my head. “No! I tried to corner him on Monday, after snack time with the girls, but he suddenly had a burning need to buy a king cake before they were all sold out.”
Tully frowns. “But Mardi Gras isn’t until this coming Tuesday.”
“I know.”
“The cake will be stale by then,” she continues.
I nod. “Yes. Exactly.”
“You should go get another one on Monday,” she says, puffing on her own toothpick. “Life’s too short for stale king cake. The bakery around the corner from here is great and always makes extras for people who didn’t pre-order. Just be sure to get there early, so they don’t sell out before you get one.”
“Thank you, but the king cake isn’t my main focus right now, Tulls,” I say, pinning her with a pleading look. “What am I going to do? I don’t want to be his friend. I want to do filthy things to him in trucks and hallways.”
She arches a wry brow. “Or you two could try a bed, you know. If he’s that good crammed in a truck cab or against a wall, imagine what he’s capable of on a horizontal surface with room to spread out and…devote himself to the work. You know what I mean?”
“Oh, I do. I really do. But I can’t let myself think about that too much,” I say, blowing out another puff of air smoke. “I can’t, or I’ll do something crazy and ruin everything. I can’t get fired. I really can’t. The girls need me, and…I don’t know.” I sag against the loading dock’s brick wall. “I think I need them, too. Turns out, I really love being their nanny.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Tully says, her nose wrinkling as her upper lip curls on both sides.
Grinning, I ask, “Oh, yeah? Then why do you look like you just got a big whiff of doo-doo on your shoe?”