Two weeks.
Fourteen days.
There’s a phone call every single day to check on Reid. The calls are usually short, there’s no small talk. It’s all straight to the point. Saturday, he video called us. We were just waking up. He was just going to bed. Reid was indifferent to the whole thing.
It’s weird, perhaps even awkward but three days before he’s due to come back I found myself itching to send him a picture or two of Reid. It’s an odd feeling because every day since I found out I was expecting – I’ve wanted to keep Reid to myself. Now, suddenly, I want to share him with Rhys. I caved and sent Rhys a picture of Reid giggling and captioned it with ‘Hi Daddy.’ I was shocked when he called almost immediately and thanked me, but that was it. There was chaos happening in the background, and I’m sure he wasn’t alone.
Foolishly, it hurt.
I have no claim on him.
I broke what little trust we had in each other, and he’s free to do whatever he wants. That thought alone sent my mind rampant.
What happens when he meets someone else? What if he’s already met someone else?
Will I have to share Reid with her too?
How long until he asks to take our son to his place for a weekend?
On and on my brain ran wild. I was so distracted that I couldn’t even focus on writing which is a whole new experience for me. Usually writing is my escape, where I can shut my mind off and focus on the characters instead.
Now – Rhys is on his way back to us and all the stress and worry from that day is on repeat in my mind again. Reid’s feeding off my mood and is cranky, too. By the time Rhys pulls up at the door with a smile on his face, I’m ready to sucker punch him and interrogate him about how he’s spent his time away from us. Forget being rational and civil.
Part of me hates myself for feeling this way.
“Hey, there’s my little man,” two steps in the door, he drops his duffle back and takes a crying Reid from me. He automatically settles and stares up at Rhys.
Traitor.
“I’ve missed you, dude. You’ll have to tell me what you’ve been up to.”
Wouldn’t you know it, Lucy’s sitting eagerly at his feet, waiting for attention too.
The flutter in my heart and the explosion of my ovaries makes me want to sock him upside the head even more. “Well, I guess since you’re here now, I’ll just go clean up some stuff and get some work done. Seems like you’ve got things under control,” I sulk.
“Oh, ok,” Rhys looks to me briefly. “I was sort of in a hurry to get here, you mind if I order a pizza or something? Can I get you anything?”
My stomach grumbles an answer, and he laughs at me. “I’ll call it in. What do you want on it?”
“Just cheese is cool unless you want something different. As long as it’s not anchovies,” he makes a face of disgust. Shifting Reid into his left arm, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his card handing it to me. “Use this. I’ll keep an ear out for the door since you’re gonna do some work. I’ll let you know when it’s here.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
I take one more look at him before I walk away. He looks amazing in his basketball shorts and the gray t-shirt that rises the tiniest bit every time he lifts Reid in the air, revealing the slightest hint of that magical “v” that leads to his manhood. Even his hair lays perfectly, looking freshly cut.
A tinge of jealousy sweeps over me.
More photo-shoot photos released this week. Him, with some pretty sexy models.
There’s no way I can compete with that. At least I can say I showered today and put on a cute pair of skinny jeans and a flowy top. Not like it matters, but I don’t look like a complete bum today.
Tucked away in my bedroom with my laptop, I quickly call in the pizza order then try to tune out the baby giggles and Rhys’ obnoxiously adorable voice talking baby talk to Reid. Lucy scampers in and hops on the bed to keep me company. I’m surprised she’s not out there with Rhys, but I’m willing to bet she’s picked up on my sullen mood today. Usually, I don’t let her on the bed either, but occasionally, I enjoy her cuddles and the sense of security she provides when she’s near. She looks up at me like she’s trying to tell me something before glancing toward the open door and back again.
“I know, he’s back. What are we gonna do, girl?” I stroke her head and exhale. “How about you help me go through edits on this book?” She huffs in response and closes her eyes. “Thanks, Lucy. You’re a big helper.”
Scrolling through my editor’s notes, I get lost in my words again, making changes where I need to and re-reading the story. Eventually, I lose track of everything around me.
Until I hear a throat clearing. I jump slightly, and Rhys tries to hide his laugh. He’s standing in the doorway, hanging onto the doorframe above his head, watching me intently.
My mouth goes dry, and I try to remind myself that things are over between us.
Lucy excitedly leaves me and rushes to my bedroom door with a whine. Thankfully, this forces Rhys to put his arms down as he pays attention to her instead.
“Pizza’s here.”
“Lucy, you’re a terrible guard dog. You’re supposed to bark when the doorbell rings,” I scold playfully as I hit save and close my laptop.
“In her defense, I saw the delivery guy pull up and met him at the door. Little man just fell asleep, I didn’t want to risk waking him.”
Did I mention it’s pretty annoying how he’s slid into his role as a father? Well, it is. The first time he was here, Reid took to him instantly, and it didn’t take him long to figure out our schedule and run with it. I, on the other hand, feel like I’m still trying to figure things out most days.
“I’m going to let Lucy out, then I’ll grab us some plates.”
“I grabbed plates and some glasses already,” Rhys follows me into the kitchen and takes a seat at my kitchen table while I usher Lucy out into the backyard.
Awkward silence surrounds us while we shuffle pizza boxes. I crack open my bottle of soda and pour it into the glass of ice, watching as it fizzes – trying desperately to distract myself and refusing to be the first to initiate a civil conversation between us. It’s quite childish of me, but I can’t bring myself to care. He’s invaded my space and not in an enjoyable way.
“So, how’s the writing going? Writing about any other men that pissed you off?”
My head snaps up to meets his gaze, and I narrow my eyes at him in annoyance. “You’re the only one worthy of the privilege.” Shit. Why the fuck did I just say that?
He lets out a hearty laugh and takes another bite of his pizza, “So where exactly does the inspiration come from for your other uhm, alpha males?”
“What the hell do you know about alpha males?” I can’t believe I’m actually having this conversation with him right now.
“I am one,” he smirks, and I notice the tiniest of dimples on his cheek.
“Oh please,” I roll my eyes and try to redirect the conversation to anything but my writing. Especially since the book I’m currently working on has a pretty intense sex scene, or four, inspired by one of our finer moments together.
Before I went and screwed it all up.
Rhys is a relentless ass who doesn’t give up though. When he admits that he’s read the rest of my books, I’m ready to die of mortification.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not ashamed of what I write, not in the least. I am very proud of my work. Nonetheless, the thought of him reading my words doesn’t sit well with me. I suppose nothing is worse than him reading Hot Cop…or Not, so I shouldn’t bat an eye at the fact that he’s read the five others. Those were tame in comparison to the revenge story I wrote, specifically about him – fictionally, of course.
“I can’t help but wonder, KJ, are you going to write one now about a secret baby? How the heroine hid her son from his father? I’ve heard that’s a pretty popular trope in your genre.”
Moment ruined. For a split second I was flattered that he read the rest of my work, but now I’m hurt. Even though he has every right to be upset, it still feels spiteful and mean.
“Low blow dickhead,” I snap as I push my chair back from the table and stand, fighting back the onslaught of emotions that are threating to explode.
He can go fuck himself. I grab my plate, dumping the half-eaten slice of pizza in the trash before rinsing off the plate and sticking in the dishwasher, slamming it shut a little harder than necessary. “Reid needs to be awake in a half hour, or he won’t sleep tonight. You’ll need to have a bottle ready for him then too. I’m sure you can handle it,” and with those parting words, I start to stomp out of the room.
Until Lucy barks at the back door, reminding me that she’s ready to come inside. I open the door and let her in before making a hasty retreat to my room and shutting the door behind me this time.
This time I don’t even bother looking at my manuscript. Instead, I pick up my phone and text Zoey.
Me: There’s a good chance I’m going to kill him before the weekend is over.
Zoey: I thought you were looking forward to his visit ::wink wink::
Me: Fuck you. We’re still very much in “he hates my guts” territory.
Zoey: Well…
Me: You’re supposed to be on my side!
She doesn’t text back, instead my phone rings.
“I’m always on your side,” she says when I answer. “But I did tell you that hiding Reid from him was not a good idea. You’re not living a secret baby novel…”
“Oh my God, you really can go fuck yourself too! Do you know the dick asked me if I was going to write a secret pregnancy book next? Since it’s such a popular trope and all. He’s read all my books, Zoey. I’m in over my head here.” I put the phone between my ear and shoulder and rub my temples to relieve the tension that’s building. “Seriously, what the fuck am I supposed to do with him hanging around all weekend?”
“I think you’re PMSing. Why don’t you hide in your room and write all weekend? I don’t know Kelsey, this is all new territory for me too.”
“Oh yeah! Speaking of – have you heard anything more from, Dylan?” I ignore her last statement and change topics. Go figure, my best friend would go and have some kind of feelings for Rhys’ partner, Smitty.
“Nice way to change the subject. I told you, we’re just having fun. I’m not down with the whole long-distance thing. I see him when I see him, and we have a good time. Nothing more.”
“Keep telling yourself that Zoey.” A knock on the door interrupts our conversation. “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” Zoey mumbles goodbye, and we hang up as I make my way over to my bedroom door and open it without saying a word to the man standing on the other side.