“She’s with Theo. We traded for the night. Actually . . .” I pull out my phone and hold it up so they can see the photo of Theo and Vivi in her crib.
There is a communal intake of breath before a resounding chorus of “Aww.”
“Yeah, you should definitely bang him again,” Willa says.
Summer reaches for my free hand, squeezing tight and staring up at me, even though I don’t look back.
Did seeing Theo in the crib this morning take me back? Yes.
Did my conversation with him last night make me want to talk to her? Yes.
Do Theo and Vivi make me want to be a better person? Also, yes.
I swing by Le Pamplemousse, my favorite coffee shop in Chestnut Springs, and grab Theo a coffee. After days on end of him bringing me coffee with a smile on his face, I should return the favor.
But when I walk up to our matching bungalows, a flurry of butterflies erupts in my stomach. Last night we kissed. I yanked him down on me. He got an eyeful and walked away.
This is fine. Perfectly normal. I repeat positive sentences. I manifest that shit.
“Theo is a mature man. This is fine. We will be fine. It was just a pussy. He’s seen lots of pussies.”
The last part doesn’t actually make me feel better, so I bite down on my inner cheek to shut myself up. Peter trembles under my arm like he thinks I’m full of shit.
“Shut up, Peter,” I mumble as I open the gate into my front yard. From here, I can hear music coming from the house. The nearer I draw, the more the song takes shape. “Mystify” by INXS blares from inside, and I’m pretty sure I can hear Theo’s deep voice singing along.
With a shake of my head, I place Peter on the ground and unlock the front door. I step in and stop in my tracks.
Theo has on the same clothes he wore last night. A smiling Vivi is strapped to his chest in the floral-patterned Tula baby carrier I bought.
He’s singing to our daughter. And dancing. And cleaning.
One hand rubs the back of her head like she’s some sort of crystal ball, while the other wipes at the white cabinets in the cottage-style kitchen.
The house smells like lemon Lysol. He’s cracked the windows, letting the summer morning breeze waft through. I’ve been out sipping a coffee while reading the newspaper and then visiting my sister and friends. A part of me feels guilty I haven’t been here helping.
Vivi stares up at him like he’s the most impressive man in the world. And fuck, she might be right.
But me? I’m just slack-jawed.
Frozen.
But Peter isn’t.
He trots right into the kitchen and yaps at Theo’s feet, surprising him right as he belts out another, “Mistifyyyyyy.”
Theo spins to take us in as he pulls his phone out of a back pocket to drop the volume. “Jesus, Peter. Warn a guy.”
“What are you doing?” My voice is full to the brim with disbelief as I look around my sparkling clean house.
Theo rolls his eyes at me. “Cleaning.”
“Why?”
He grins, gives me a wink, and blesses the side of my ass with a playful slap. “I just felt like it. That coffee for me, Tink?”
I glance down at the cup in my hand. “Yeah. I figured you’d need it after last night.” I’m acutely aware of the way his eyes blatantly rake over my body, trailing down and back up.
My cheeks heat as I wonder if he’s thinking about how I don’t look like I did the last time he saw me naked. I push those thoughts away, because none of that matters. We are just . . . not business partners, apparently.
Teammates? Co-parents?
Co-parents could work.
“Here.” I shove the coffee at him. Up close, he’s even hotter. His stubble has grown a little longer than the perfectly groomed shadow he usually sports, but it suits him. Even with a bit of darkness under his eyes . . . he’s just more rugged somehow. More masculine.
It’s annoying that I look like trash when I’m tired and he looks like this.
The fact that he’s got our child strapped to his chest enhances the appeal by a million. But it doesn’t matter in the least what Theo looks like. I could see him carrying Vivi, singing a song, cleaning my goddamn house, and I wouldn’t notice his physicality at all.
I’d just see a man so deeply dependable that I’d want to rip my clothes off and suck his dick in thanks. It’s a biological loophole, I swear. Because for the life of me, I can’t hold a grudge against Theo when he’s done nothing but show up for me, no matter how much I’ve snarled at him.
When he takes the coffee, I try to pull away, but his hand is too big. Too sure. His fingers wrap over mine and he gently guides me closer to them.
“Vivi, look how sweet your mom is, bringing me a coffee.”
I glance down at her and a sudden surge of longing hits me. I haven’t been away from her overnight before. And suddenly I want nothing more than to pull her out of the carrier and nuzzle into her neck where there are still traces of baby smell.
I drop my forehead against hers. “Good morning, sweet baby,” I say as I press a kiss to her soft, pudgy cheek.
When I glance up, Theo points at a familiar stack of envelopes. “Those from your ex? I wasn’t snooping. I just found them underneath a pile of magazines.”
I swallow, deciding how to play this off. For some reason, I don’t want Theo and Rob intersecting. Rob isn’t welcome here, sullying this happy little bubble.
Looking around my house, I can’t help but feel like Theo has already stepped into a colossal mess. I don’t need to add to that burden with drama from my ex.
“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. He keeps sending bills for things like our wedding or house, as though I owe him something when I don’t.” I swipe a hand between us like it doesn’t bother me at all. But it does. Rob did this same thing with Summer. He could never let her go. Her disinterest became some sort of slight to him, and now I’m getting the same treatment.
The man won’t give me peace, even though I specifically took nothing in our divorce to get rid of him. But it still wasn’t enough.
“There’s no postage on them though. Is he dropping them off here? Is that why you have the cameras up?”
It is, but not because I think he’d do anything violent. Just because if I see him at the door, I don’t want to answer.
“Mama.”
That one word instantly changes the subject.
I freeze and stare down at my daughter, and then I glance up at Theo. “Did she just say . . .”
“Mama?” Theo quirks a brow at me and slides a palm down the center of my back, stopping when he hits the waistline of my yoga pants. Then he . . . leaves it there. His big, warm palm at the small of my back. Sure, and steady, and supportive.
“That’s her first word.” I stare at her in wonder.
“Of course it is. What else would it be? And she’s been saying it all morning.” He turns his gaze back to Vivi. “Haven’t you, baby girl? Been talking about your mama nonstop. And who could blame you? Look at her.” They both turn their big brown eyes on me, and suddenly I’m aware of how close we’re standing. My hand on Vivi. Vivi’s hand on Theo. Theo’s hand on me.
Connected.
We will always be connected.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Theo carries on, blissfully unaware of the turmoil this moment stirs in me. “Just like you. Imagine how beautiful she’ll look when she gets back from getting her nails done.”
“What?” My brows knit and my head flips toward Theo.
He removes his hand from my back to check his watch. “Yeah. I booked you a manicure for ten.”
“But you’ve been with Vivi all night. All morning.”
He shrugs, a gentle smile stretching over his too-handsome features. “I don’t need a special trophy for parenting. I love it, Winter. Don’t worry. Go enjoy your manicure while you can still get one.”
His hand returns to my back as he nudges me toward the door. “But I—”
“No buts. You go. I’ll be here. I got this.”
I turn and give him a stern stare, one finger up. “I’ll be back before lunch.”
He chuckles and winks. “No, you won’t. I booked your massage right after the manicure. Sloane is meeting you there and for lunch. See you later, Mama.”
He leans forward, maneuvering around my hand to drop a light, friendly kiss right beside my mouth. I’m pushed out the door before I can even speak. The music cranks back up before I’ve even moved off the front step.
At the salon, my nails finally have their day. I select a pretty shade of pink and Sloane picks a bright purple. After our massages, we fill our faces at our favorite spot in town, chat, and laugh until our cheeks hurt. It is truly the perfect girls’ day out.
I feel more myself than I have in months. I feel more relaxed than I have in years.
And when I get back that afternoon—all pampered, and rested, and sane—I walk into a spotless house. A happy little girl plays with wooden blocks on the carpet. Theo builds them up, and she knocks them down, laughing hysterically while he acts offended that she could do that to him. On the stove, a delicious aroma wafts from a large pot. Theo calls it “Brazilian Stroganoff” and says it’s something his dad used to make for his mom.
And when I go to bed that night, the hinges on my door don’t squeak at all.
22
Theo