“Four,” I hold up my fingers for Jax to see, “little ladybugs sitting on a tree.” He giggles and holds up four fingers. I love his toothy grin. We’re on his rocket ship bed with his Mickey space-themed bedding, reading a story to settle him down for bed. “Along came a frog, and then there were…” I try to turn the page, but he shuts the book on my fingers.

“Little man-” I stop my scolding as he yawns. He’s so tuckered out. He almost fell asleep in the bath, and that never happens. He freaking loves splashing in the tub. Especially if he can soak me. It’s his favorite pastime. He yawns again and rubs his eyes with his little fists. A soft smile plays at my lips, and I put the book on the little nightstand next to his bed. His cup of water is there, but I really should take it; I don’t want him to have an accident. I lean down and give him a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, baby boy. Have sweet dreams.”

“Love you, Mommy.” Hearing those words melts my heart, and they get me every time. I rise slowly and walk to the door. I double-check the nightlight before I hit the light switch and close the door. I wait a minute, listening by the door. Some days he’s a little deviant and gets up to play, but tonight he’s pretty beat. After a few minutes of silence, I walk to my own bedroom.

It fucking sucks being in here. Everything reminds me of Rick. I don’t know why I haven’t gotten rid of anything. The picture frames on the wall are full of our pictures. A couple are from my pregnancy and Jax’s birth. But then there are wedding pictures on the dresser. His dresser. I rub the back of my neck and sigh. I should take care of this. I really should. I can’t live like this. I fall back against the wall and look around the room. The comforter is a stormy blue; it’s what he picked. The rug is the modern shag one he wanted. The furniture was all his. There’s hardly anything in here that’s mine. Everything has him written all over it. At least I picked my own clothes out. Thank God he didn’t have a preference for that.

And heels. I refused to budge on that shit. Heels are my one indulgence. I don’t care if I spend a little extra on them occasionally.

I turn around and walk out of the bedroom; I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight. It seems like every other night this happens. I come to the realization that our bedroom was really his bedroom and instead of dealing with it, I just leave. I cringe as the thought hits me. I’m a stronger woman than that, but I’m so fucking tired. I’m way too tired to deal with this shit. I grin and think about messaging Sarah. That’s why I have a PA, to take care of this shit for me. I can’t message her this late though. That would make me a shit boss.

I grin as I turn on the light to the guest bedroom. This room is mine. All mine. From the antique furniture and cream paisley bedspread, to the pale aqua paint and plush chenille woven rug, it's all me. I curl my toes in the rug and sigh. I can sleep in here. I should just burn the old bedroom. After I relocate the pictures of Jax… and my heels.

I rub my sore eyes and climb into bed. I need to be up at four to make sure everything’s good with the restaurant and that the orders came in. And hopefully Jax will sleep in until seven, fingers crossed for eight, so I can get all the morning shit done before the lunch rush starts. I settle down deep into the covers and rest my eyes. Tomorrow will be a better day. I will make it a better day. I no longer have to deal with any of this shit with Rick. The familiar pain in my chest forms yet again. I’m not sure if it’s from Rick dying, or leaving me or cheating on me… or trying to take Jax away from me. That fucking bastard. I shake my head and push down the emotions. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters now. It’s all over. Paying his debt was the last thing I had to do.

My teeth grind against one another. It’s a good fucking thing they gave me his phone and I had the balls to look at it. What if I’d never seen it? “Fucking Rick,” I mutter with every bit of disdain I have left in me and roll over under the sheets.

I pull them up close to my chest and snuggle deep into the pillow top mattress. Happy thoughts. Positive thoughts. Do good things, think good things, and good things will happen. I repeat my mantra a few times and then open my eyes. I bite my bottom lip, feeling like a bitter bitch, but really – where the fuck did thinking like that get me?

I throw the covers back and head to the shower. I don’t care that it’s going to fuck my hair up in the morning by sleeping with it wet. I need a real shower. I need to wash all this shit off of me.

I clear my mind of everything and put a few drops of eucalyptus oil into the back of the shower as the room fills with steam. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. The cream marble tiles on the floor of the stall heat instantly under my feet. I step into the water, letting the warm spray wash away the day. I turn around and soak my hair, breathing in deep. Everything will be alright. Everything happens for a reason.

Just as I start to feel the heavy pull of relaxation, I remember today. I remember him.

A soft moan leaves my lips as I think of my dirty criminal. Although I can’t, I pretend like I can still smell him on me. I wish I could. The eucalyptus suddenly feels like a bad idea. I try to remember that masculine scent he had, all woodsy and raw. Raw is a good word to describe him. A heat rushes up my chest and into my cheeks as I remember that’s how he took me, raw. My fingers brush against my hips, trailing down to my thighs. My lips part as I remember him pushing me against the wall and slamming into me. It was almost surreal. Like a dark fantasy I’ve dreamed about. I pull my fingers back and open my eyes, realizing where my thoughts have gone. I can’t do this shit. It’s one thing to fantasize; it’s another to indulge. Indulge? I shake my head. No, that’s not what that was. That was him taking advantage. Even if I enjoyed it. I bite my lip and start washing my body. It’s so fucking wrong I enjoyed that. No wonder I’m alone. I start to feel dizzy, and I have to lean against the stall. Fuck. I turn the temperature down and steady myself. I’m just too fucked up for this right now. My emotions are out of control. I don’t know what’s normal, what’s rational, and what is just truly fucked.

Other than me. I was, in fact, truly fucked today. I turn off the water and step out. The bathroom is chillier than I like it to be, but it was a quick shower. I grab a towel and quickly dry off. I need to get to bed. I take out my face moisturizer and the serum for my hair and apply both. As I shut the cabinet, I catch sight of the spot where my birth control should be. I haven’t had any for months.

Thank God I took the morning-after pill. And just like that, every bit of desire and heat leaves me. I don’t have time for fantasies. I don’t have time to indulge in something that would destroy the small piece of me that survived Rick.

I huff and throw on a nightshirt to quickly get into bed. Today was a one-off. Whatever I did today – I shake my head with my eyes closed – it doesn’t count. Sarah will never mention it again. I wish she hadn’t been there. I wish she hadn’t seen me after that. After him. Fuck, the thought of him lights every nerve ending in my core aflame. FUCK!

I bury my head into the pillow and try to forget the shameful desire burning deep down in my core. It only takes the thought of him closing the door on me without a second look to shut down my longing. What a fucking prick. He may be hot and powerful and he may have fucked me like he owns me, but he’s still an asshole. All men are fucking assholes.

It’s wrong to want a man like him. But I can’t lie to myself; I really fucking want him.