Ellie
It was amazing how different the world looked after that first night with Parker.
So that was what I had been missing all those years! Connor had sometimes demanded sex a few times a week—less and less the longer we were together, of course, once he started cheating on me. He’d left me alone after a while, for the most part. Looking back, it had slowed down after Isabella was born. He had tried to convince me to do it even when I was beyond the point of exhaustion. When he finally figured out it wasn’t going to happen when I was fast asleep, he’d started looking elsewhere. It had almost been a relief.
But for all the times when I’d thought things were best, when I had thought it couldn’t get more hot and steamy, I’d had no idea just how good sex could be. I had been playing in the minor leagues before Parker came along, teaching me things about my body I hadn’t known were possible. I giggled to myself as I made breakfast, thinking that, if nothing else, I’d be grateful to him for that alone.
It was more than that, though. The way he’d held me like he would always protect me. I believed him when he said the words, mostly because of the way it had felt with his arms around me. In those quiet moments, I’d believed him. Just being able to believe a man for the first time since my father died meant the world to me.
He was a late sleeper, I noticed. Isabella scurried down from her bunk and looked for him the moment she woke up. “Where’s Parker?” she asked, poking her head into the kitchen in case he was with me. I laughed at her bedhead, and the way she hadn’t changed out of her nightgown with the princesses from Frozen printed on the front.
“He’s asleep,” I said. Then my heart nearly stopped, and I froze in panic.
“Where? I thought he was gonna sleep on the couch.”
I scrambled for an excuse. “Yes, and he did. When I got up, I told him he could sleep in my bed for a while, so I didn’t wake him up while I made breakfast. He was still very sleepy. I don’t think the sofa is comfortable for him.”
“It’s very lumpy,” she said. “Maybe he could sleep on my bottom bunk?”
“I don’t think so, sweetie.” It was hard not to laugh when she offered it so freely, so willingly. “I think it would be a little small for him.”
“Right.” She shrugged, then went off to the living room to say good morning to her toys. It was part of her daily routine. I sighed with relief, slumping against the kitchen table. Mental note: make sure Parker goes back to the living room before Isabella gets up.
I filled our bowls with oatmeal and berries, then settled in to watch the news with my girl. For a three-year-old, she really liked watching Good Morning America. It seemed strange to me, but maybe she was destined for a career as a journalist or broadcaster. She always had comments on the news stories, too, some of which were unnervingly dead-on. Her savviness was a worry to me. How much did she understand about her father? How much did she not tell me?
I heard a noise coming from my room through the paper-thin wall between the living room and bedroom. That was another worry. Had we woken her at any time during the night? I thought not, or else she would have come to the bedroom door. It still amazed me how I’d managed to keep quiet. Just the thought of being with Parker was enough to get me a little wet again.
“Oh, hey.” He tried to look casual when he came around the corner. I had to give him credit for that. He ran a hand through his dark, messy hair, then over his stubble-covered cheeks.
“Good morning,” I said. “I told Isabella how you moved to my room once I woke up, so I wouldn’t wake you.” I smiled brightly.
“Right. That was nice that you did that.” He nodded emphatically. “Good morning, Isabella.”
“Morning.” I didn’t know why she acted so shy again. She hid behind my arm.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I just don’t want to talk yet.”
I shook my head—was this the girl who had looked for Parker the moment she got out of bed? “Okay. You don’t have to. Do you mind if I go to the kitchen to make Parker some breakfast?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I have to go out for a little while so I can pick up something.”
“You’re leaving?” I asked, standing up. My heart took off at a gallop.
“Just for a little while. I have some stuff to take care of, like getting clothes. I have to talk to my guys about club things. And I thought I could pick up some food, too. You’re running a little low.”
I thought about my nearly empty wallet. “I don’t have money for a lot of things, so just the basics, please.”
“Like I was gonna charge you,” he said with a smirk. “Come on.”
“Don’t do that,” I said. “Please. Don’t pity me.”
“I don’t pity you. Damn it.” He glanced at Isabella, who shook her head.
“That’s a swear word,” she said, shaking her finger.
I bit my lip to hold back a smile. “He’s a grown up, honey. He can say what he wants.” I turned back to him. “Though it would be nice if he could hold back a little.”
“That was holding back,” he growled. “You don’t know what I really wanna say to you right now. You’re lucky she’s here.”
“Oh, is that it? I’m lucky?” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Maybe you’re the one who’s lucky she’s here, so I could tell you a thing or two about how I don’t like it when people tell me what to do and how to feel. I don’t need pity or charity.”
“Which. This. Isn’t.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve gotta go. Do me a favor and text me a list of things to buy from the store, okay?” He pulled his leather vest off the armchair, sliding it on.
“Ooh! Are you gonna ride your motorcycle now?” Isabella asked.
I frowned. “How do you know he rides a motorcycle?”
“I told her,” he said. “Was I not supposed to do that? Is it bad?”
“Cut it out,” I muttered just low enough for him to hear me but not her. “You’re not amusing.”
He turned to Isabella rather than answering me. “Yeah, I’m gonna ride my motorcycle. Maybe I’ll let you ride with me sometimes, if your Mommy isn’t too mean to let you.”
Oh, that son of a bitch. “That’s enough. Go. Do what you have to do.” I pushed him toward the door.
“If you don’t tell me what to buy, I’m gonna come back with nothing but sugary cereal and soda. It’s up to you.” He left, chuckling to himself. I wanted to slap the snide attitude out of him. The nerve!
I turned back to my daughter, who was totally enamored of him the way only a child could be. He was big and interesting, different from anyone else in her life.
“Is he gonna come back?” she asked.
“Yes, honey. Whether I like it or not, I think he’s gonna come back.” At least he’d left before my mother showed up. I thanked God for small favors as I took a shower, then convinced Isabella to change out of her favorite nightgown. At least she wasn’t begging me to let her watch the movie for the ten millionth time. Another small favor.
By the time mom showed up, Isabella was coloring while I read a book. Funny how little pleasure reading I’d managed to get done after leaving Connor. I’d lost so much of myself, both to him and then after I left. When I opened the door for mom to enter, I laughed at the sight of two grocery bags.
“What’s so funny?” she asked as I took the bags so she could hug Isabella.
“Nothing. It’s a long story. Thank you for the food,” I said. I went to the kitchen to unload, then texted Parker that I already had more than enough food thanks to my mother. He asked what she’d brought, and I gave him the brief rundown, though I didn’t think he needed to know, particularly. He didn’t reply. I thought he might have felt a little insulted that he couldn’t prove his masculinity by providing food for his weak little females.
“You want a cup of tea?” I asked, smiling to find a box of chai tea bags in with the rest of the haul.
“Yes, please. Lots of milk.”
I went about heating the water while I put away the rest of the food. Lots of spaghetti—the one thing we knew Isabella loved to eat. Cereal, tuna, bread, milk, chicken, rice…lots of staples, plus fresh and frozen veggies and a bunch of bananas. I thought we would do okay for a while with everything she’d bought.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” I said, sitting down with her and handing her one of two mugs. “I mean it.”
“Would you just accept someone taking care of you for once? You know you like it. Just admit it.” I wondered how she would feel if she knew how much she sounded like a certain biker I happened to know.
“Okay. Thank you. I just hate to think of everybody’s lives thrown around because of Connor.”
“That’s not your fault. You’re making the only choice you can make.”
“Hey, Grandma,” Isabella said from her spot on the floor. She was on her stomach, coloring away. “Do you know Parker?”
My heart sank. I should have told her not to mention him—then again, I didn’t want to teach her to be a liar. Mom looked at me, eyebrows raised. “No, dear,” she said, eyes locked with mine. “I don’t know Parker. Tell me about him.”
“Mom…” I said. She held up a hand to silence me.
“Well.” Isabella sat up, legs crossed, to count off Parker’s attributes one at a time on her little fingers. “He’s a big giant man. He’s funny. He likes mommy’s meatballs like I do. Um…he rides a motorcycle.”
“He does? That’s interesting.” Mom kept smiling, but I heard the sinister note in her voice.
“And he stayed with us last night, but he had stuff he had to do.” Her job complete, my daughter went back to coloring. She couldn’t have done a better job of sinking me if she’d tried.
“Well, he sounds like a very nice person,” Mom said. Her smile was tight. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” She was off the sofa and on her way without waiting for me to reply.
I dragged my feet like a woman on her way to the electric chair. That might be better than what Mom will give me, I thought.
“Is this the one you told me about?” Mom whispered angrily.
“Yes,” I said. “He’s the one. He looked for me at the diner yesterday, and Sandy gave him the address.”
“You should have a few words with Sandy,” Mom advised. “Like about privacy, and how you don’t appreciate people violating yours like that.”
“Yes, Mom. I know.”
“It doesn’t sound like you know. And don’t roll your eyes at me, I swear.” I looked at the floor instead, feeling for all the world like a kid who got caught breaking curfew. “What sort of example is this for your daughter?”
“Mom, please. I can’t take this right now. He didn’t stay over to sleep with me, for God’s sake.” Mom scoffed, clearly offended by my bluntness. “It’s true. It’s not like he came over and I said, ‘Hey, baby, I’m single, let’s do it.’ He came over to check and make sure we were okay. He thought it was a big red flag when I didn’t go to work and, yes, Sandy should have kept my address to herself, but I can’t change that. All I know is I slept well last night.” I didn’t tell her it was because we had, in fact, slept together.
“You know what else?” I continued. “I felt better. Safer, for the first time all week. Funny, huh? In the presence of an outlaw. I felt safe and protected, and I felt even better knowing that he would take a bullet for my child. Isabella laughed and laughed when we ate dinner together. She felt safe, too. I know she’s just a little kid, but you know how she picks up on things. She’s not stupid. She knows something is wrong, or else why wouldn’t I let her go to school? She never once asked me about it this morning.”
“That’s good, at least,” Mom said.
I could tell it killed her to admit she was wrong, so I didn’t wait for her to say it. “He just wants to help. Like you said, I have to learn how to accept help when it comes to me.”
“I didn’t mean from people like him,” she pointed out, her voice sour.
“You don’t know him,” I said. “And I know that sounds like my typical response. Especially when you had a problem with Connor. I was wrong then, but I’m not wrong now. Jesus, I’m not talking about marrying the man. Just letting him help me, because I need all the help I can get.”
“You don’t think he’ll…kill him, do you?” Her eyes were wide.
“No. I wouldn’t want him to, though he wants to.”
Mom gasped. “Ellie!”
“Come on. Haven’t you wanted to? When I told you everything that happened?”
“Well, yes, but I wouldn’t do anything about it.”
“We can’t assume he would either. Just relax. It’ll be okay.” I wasn’t sure how, but it had to be. It just had to be. “In the meantime, let’s put this behind us and enjoy the rest of the day with Isabella. I don’t want her thinking there’s anything to be afraid of, especially from Parker. I need her to trust him.”
“Whatever you say,” Mom said, much in the way she would have delivered the line, “It’s your funeral.”
I sighed, shaking my head. Like I didn’t have enough on my plate.
“Hey, Mama?” Isabella finished her picture, bringing it to me.
“That’s beautiful, sweetheart. You’re such a great artist. You wanna hang it on the fridge with the others?”
She gave me a shy grin, ducking her head. “No. I wanna give it to Parker. Can I?”
“Sure, honey. When he gets back.” I kissed the top of her head, deliberately avoiding my mother’s scornful gaze. Yes, I knew how dangerous it was for my little girl to become too attached to him, but there was nothing else I could do. If I had any hope of the next however many days going smoothly, she had to like Parker. Otherwise, she’d only heap a lot more trouble onto an already crappy situation.