Lauren opens the door to her house looking a little harassed. Her hair is in disarray and her cheeks are flushed.

“Is everything alright?” I ask.

She forces a smile. “It’s fine. Just a little bit of a wild day with the kids.”

My heart sinks. “Was Roman okay for you?”

She hesitates. “He had a rough day, but really, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

I hear the kids yelling in the background and then a loud thump. I cringe. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you look like you had a worse day than me,” she says, gesturing for me to give her a hug.

I wrap my arms around her and feel a surge of the emotion that has been threatening to break through. He’s back. He’s actually back. What the hell am I going to do?

I’m forced to let her go when I hear Roman start to argue with Amelia. It sounds like they are fighting over a toy.

“Why don’t you come in for coffee?” asks Lauren. “You look like you need to vent.”

I smile a little guiltily. “Maybe a little.”

“Do you want to play referee while I get a pot going or do you want me to?” she asks.

“You get the pot started, I’ll break them up.”

I find Roman standing on Lauren’s couch with a baby doll held high above his head. Amelia, who is about the same age as him, but a little more physically clumsy, is trying to climb the couch to get her doll back and Roman is stiff arming her every time she tries.

“Roman Connors!” I snap.

Both of the three year olds turn their heads toward me, mouths open in surprise and fear.

“You give her that doll right now. I didn’t raise you to be a bully.” A wave of guilt passes through me when I wonder if maybe he learned to be a bully because he has spent his life seeing me get bullied by Ted. Is that what he thinks it is to be a man? To be a bully?

Roman knows better than to put up a fight when I say his full name. He hangs his head and hands Amelia back her doll, even if it’s with a little more attitude than I would prefer.

“Tell her you’re sorry.”

“Sorry, ‘Melia,” he mutters.

I watch the two of them go back to playing, already forgetting the drama, but I can’t. I know it’s just kids being kids, and yet I can’t help thinking about how selfish it is for me to push Leo away for my own personal reasons. The only question I should be asking is what’s best for Roman. Wouldn’t it be better for him to have a father figure? Not if that role-model is a violent killer.

I sigh. Maybe I could give Leo another chance though, one last opportunity to show that he has changed or that he’s willing to. That is if he even wants to be involved in Roman’s life. I really don’t know what kind of man Leo is. I know he’s gorgeous, he’s a criminal, and he’s dynamite in bed—or at least on the couch. Beyond that, I don’t know nearly as much as I should.

I sit across from Lauren at her kitchen table and warm my hands on the coffee mug. Roman and Amelia are disagreeing over who gets to be the fireman and who has to be the cat. Amelia ends up being the cat and sitting on the small cat scratching post, meowing and asking to be saved, while Roman pretends to spray her with water. I’m not sure he understands exactly what firemen do for a living.

Lauren and I watch them for a little while, smiling. “So what’s going on?” asks Lauren.

“He’s back,” I say.

She was about to take a sip of coffee but sets her cup down quickly, leaning forward and bulging her eyes. “Him?”

I laugh in disbelief and sadness. “Yeah. Him.”

“What did he do? I mean, where did you see him? Did he call you?”

“No. He showed up in my office.” I cover my forehead with my hand. “I kissed him. A little.”

Lauren still hasn’t blinked. “Oh my God. What are you going to do?”

I shake my head slowly. “I was hoping you could help me figure that out.”

She sits back, smiling distantly. “To be honest? If he’s half as sexy as you say he is, I’d just sign up to be friends with benefits.”

I sigh. “Lauren, I’m serious.”

She smirks. “Me too. Nothing says you can’t be a sexually active woman and still be a good mother. Just make him wear a condom this time,” she says with a wink.

I can’t help grinning a little. “You’re a bad influence on me.”

She gives me a sympathetic look and shrugs. “Well, just remember. Seeing him again could either be a huge mistake or the best thing in the world for you.”

I laugh. “That’s helpful. It’s a good thing you’re not a practicing therapist anymore because I’d personally sign the petition to get you fired.”

“You sleep with patients and I couldn’t counsel my way out of a paper bag. We make quite the team.”

“He was hardly a patient. He was only in my office for fifteen minutes, and we didn’t even start a therapy session.”

Lauren grins wide. “Now whose the shitty therapist?”

Roman holds my hand as we head up the stairs to my apartment. I fumble for my key and put it in the lock. I’m about to open the door when the door to the vacant apartment beside mine opens. I look up in surprise, and then my surprise turns to absolute shock when I see who emerges. He wears a dark blue suit and a white undershirt with enough buttons undone to show his tanned chest and tattoos. His face is turned away from me as he locks the door. I clutch Roman’s hand even tighter.

Leo. Leo fucking Citrione just stepped out of the apartment next door to me.

Anger boils up in me. This man thinks he can do whatever he wants. He thinks the rules don’t apply to him, that he can just show up and force himself back into my life. “What are you doing here?” I demand.

He turns, eyes finding me and capturing me effortlessly. I wish I didn’t feel so transfixed every time he looked at me. I wish he didn’t affect me like he does, but I can’t deny it. Just being near him is like a chemical explosion in my body. Just looking at him makes my mind flash with vivid memories of what he did to me on the couch in my office. I see his beautiful face between my legs, his huge cock positioned in front of my entrance, the muscles of his body cording and relaxing as he thrusted himself into me.

“Mommy, who’s that?” asks Roman.

His innocent little voice is like a knife in my stomach. Oh God. Why didn’t I get Roman inside the apartment first? What is Leo going to think when he sees that I have a child? Will he know it’s his? Will he care? I swallow hard, watching Leo’s eyes fall to Roman and narrow. He recovers quickly, kneeling and smiling at Roman.

“Hey bud, I’m your new neighbor.”

Roman rushes toward Leo, making my heart jump. His little hand is raised for a high-five. It’s his favorite thing to do with people.

Leo gently slaps his hand.

“Nice one!” says Leo. “Try this.” He holds out his tattooed hand in a fist and takes Roman’s wrist and guides Roman into a fist-bump.

Roman looks in astonishment at his little fist, like Leo just taught him the secret of making fire. I have to keep from rolling my eyes. Really? I teach the kid the English language, how to eat, how rainbows work, and he’s more amazed by smashing his fist into someone else’s fist? It still makes me grin seeing him like this with someone. I’ve never seen him take to a man so quickly before. The only men he’s ever really had a chance to interact with are some of the older guys who live in the apartment and Lauren’s husband, who never has time to play with him.

Roman sticks his finger out at Leo’s hand, where “TRUST” is spelled out above the knuckles on his right hand. “Why did you write on yourself?” he asks.

Leo looks at his hand. “Because I wanted to make sure I always remembered what’s important.”

Roman giggles. “That’s silly.”

Leo gives him a serious look. “It’s never silly to find what you believe in, bud. A man has to stand for something, and once he knows what that is, he has to stick by it. That’s what makes him a man.”

Roman looks thoughtful and then turns to me. “Mommy. Can you write on my fingers?”

Leo and I both laugh, smiling at eachother for a split second before I remember who he is and what he did to me. My face hardens, and I take Roman by the shoulders, pulling him back. “Yes. As soon as you eat your dinner. Why don’t you go ahead inside and get your hands washed.”

“But I want to talk to Mr. Leo more.”

“Mr. Leo made sure we will have to talk to him more when he decided to move in next door, honey. Go inside please.”

Roman gives me his best pouting face but goes inside. Instead of hearing the faucet, I hear him rummaging through the drawer where I keep the sharpies and markers. Great.

I lower my voice. “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask.

Leo folds his arms, face hard and unapologetic. “I’m back in town. I needed a place. Coincidence, I guess. Cute kid.”

My temper flares even more when he mentions Roman. “You stay away from him.”

“Who’s the father?” asks Leo.

“His father was an asshole,” I say. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Leo’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, answering. “Yeah? Okay. Be right there.” He hangs up and then grins at me. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be back late.” Without so much as a backward glance, he walks past me and heads down the stairs.

I stand in place, fuming, thinking about yelling after him to ask why he went out of his way to rent the apartment next door to mine, but I hold my tongue. How conceited would I look if I assumed he actually went to the trouble of renting a place just to live next door to me? But there’s no way. He’s up to something, and I have a pretty good idea what it is. I just wish I could press some magical button to turn off my attraction towards him. This would be so much easier if I could.

More than that, I wish I knew what was best for Roman. Seeing the way Leo interacted with him was more than a little surprising. I would have pictured him being cold and disinterested around children, but he was really sweet with him. As much as I try, I can’t help picturing the three of us eating dinner together while Leo ruffles Roman’s hair and tells him some inappropriate joke. The thought makes me grin. I did see a softer side to Leo all those years back when we were in the restaurant. I felt like there was another side of him, waiting to open up if I only found the right words.

Once I’ve calmed down, I step inside to find Roman sitting cross-legged while he writes on his fingers. I kneel down. “Honey, that’s a sharpie. It doesn’t come off easily.” Each finger has a wobbly squiggle on it that I know is supposed to be a letter. “What does this one say?” I ask, pointing to his right hand.

“Eggo,” he says proudly.

I smirk. “And this one?” I point to the other one.

“It says Leo.”