Anna

I sighed into the phone, one eye on Willow as she sat on top of the large granite island in Sean’s kitchen, scrupulously sorting vegetables for our salad.

“Are you even listening to me, Anna?” Peyton’s voice boomed in my ear.

Honestly, I wasn’t. My best friend had been droning on for fifteen minutes, peppering me with questions about my plans. And really, I didn’t have any.

Something had shifted yesterday morning before Sean left. The way he’d looked at me, touched me as he moved inside me.

And that damned card.

Tu me manques.

You’re missing from me.

The phrase rolled around in my brain.

“Anna?” Peyton prompted, growling her discontent.

“I’m listening,” I lied, turning my attention to the pot of marinara simmering on the stove. “I just don’t see why you’re pushing this so hard. I mean, with everything going on with Dean, and now Melissa, I haven’t had time to think about moving.”

Peyton went silent for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Have you heard from Sean today?”

My skin prickled, because, no, I hadn’t heard from Sean. Not since his plane landed.

“He had that party last night at Benny’s and then a bunch of press engagements today.” My tone held more bite than expected, and I mentally chastised myself. “He’s busy.”

More silence, and goose bumps rose on my arms.

I looked up at the air conditioning vent above the stove, but it wasn’t that.

Closing my eyes, I asked, “What aren’t you telling me, Pey?”

I could hear her shifting, grappling with whatever she needed to tell me.

“I have something to show you,” she finally said. “Don’t freak out.”

Well, that didn’t sound good.

I took a deep breath. “I won’t.”

When my phone beeped with an incoming text, I pulled the device from my ear and stared at Peyton’s message. Enlarging the thumbnail, I swallowed hard when a photo of Sean and that reality star, Kimber Tyson, populated the screen.

They were smiling. Happy.

After scrutinizing the picture for much longer than necessary, my attention slid to Willow. The urge to grab my daughter, our belongings, and the last scrap of my dignity almost sent me running for the door.

But then I heard Peyton calling my name over and over.

I put her on speaker.

“He was at a party,” I said listlessly. “It’s his job.”

The minute the excuse tumbled out, I shuddered. Because I knew I’d always make excuses.

Don’t you want more for your daughter?

Dean’s words trickled through my brain as Peyton sighed. They pitied me, both of them.

Dragging a wooden spoon through my spaghetti sauce, I said quietly, “I’ll meet you tomorrow morning, and we’ll go look at that apartment by the bridge.” A sharp pain corkscrewed through my chest. “I’ve got to drain the noodles now. I’ll call you later.”

Without waiting for her reply, I disconnected the call. I wasn’t mad at Peyton, just disappointed in myself. A week in Sean’s house and the wall encasing my heart had started to crumble, leaving me vulnerable. Exposed.

I had to think about Willow.

If I allowed the man I loved to run around with other women, so would she one day.

With a sigh, I switched on the boom box. Music throbbed from the speaker, and Willow’s foot began to rock.

So much like her father.

I returned to my cooking, and a moment later a strong arm banded around my waist. Frozen with fear, all I heard over the blood rushing to my head was a low rumble. “Fuck, baby—”

I howled, jabbing my elbow into the intruder’s stomach. When I spun around, wielding the spoon like a Samurai sword, I met Sean’s azure gaze. He clutched his ribs, feigning an injury. Willow giggled but I wasn’t amused.

“What the hell, Sean?” I dropped the weapon, splashing marinara all over the floor. “What are you doing here?”

I pressed my lips into a firm line when I realized how that sounded. This was his house, not mine.

Sean chuckled. “Getting my ass kicked, apparently.”

As he crouched to pick up the fallen utensil, he swiped a finger over a glob of sauce resting on the top of my foot. With a seductive glint in his eyes, he rose to his full height and made a show of licking the red goop from his thumb. Which naturally drew my attention to his split lip and the bruise on his cheek.

My hand flew to his face. “What happened to you?”

He seemed shocked by the question, but when my fingers skated over the tender flesh, he winced.

“Just a little accident.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Sean held my gaze and then slowly, deliberately, shifted his focus to Willow who was taking in the scene with curious blue eyes.

Capturing my hand, Sean kissed my palm. “Later, okay?” His lips traveled to my wrist where he pressed another kiss over my pulse point.

The intensity in his stare and the tenderness in his touch wore me down. “Okay.”

As soon as our contact was broken, my anger returned. I shut off the music, then lifted Willow from her spot.

“Dinner’s ready,” I mumbled. “I have to feed her.”

Sean blocked my path. “You set the table, and we’ll go wash up.”

He held his arms out for our daughter, and though every instinct told me to deny him, I couldn’t. Willow was his. And regardless of what he felt or didn’t feel for me, she wasn’t a pawn to be used as punishment.

Not that I could.

The little traitor was squirming in my arms, reaching for her daddy with a smile.

Reluctantly, I handed her over. “You do that.”

Striding out of the room, he cooed to our little girl while I sorted through the silverware drawer, fighting the tears lining my eyes.