It’s nearly impossible to crack my eyes open. I haven’t slept so hard in years. But I’m incredibly warm to the point it’s uncomfortable, and I have to pee, so I force my lids open and let the morning light leak in. My vision is blurry and I rub my eyes. When I open them again, the first thing I see is Neena with her camera—pointing directly at me. She’s wearing a black beanie, her perfect dark eyes peering at me as she holds the camera in her lap, the side screen tilted so she can see what she’s filming.
“Sleep well, Mom?” she preens.
“I slept okay,” I croak. “How about you, baby?”
She grins. “You’re so not awake yet.”
I roll my head back with a sigh and hit my head on something. I jerk as Paul grunts, placing a hand to his forehead where I just headbutted him.
“Shit,” I gasp.
“Language,” Neena laughs.
“What time is it?” Paul rasps.
I practically fly off the couch. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on the sofa with him. I just needed . . . I don’t know what the hell I needed. I guess I just needed to be held and Paul was there. But clearly that was a mistake. I don’t want Neena dreaming up some fantasy that Paul and I might reunite.
“It’s seven,” Neena answers. “Sleep well, Dad?” Paul pushes up, his gaze jerking to Neena before moving to mine. My eyes widen. She just called him Dad. I guess noting Paul’s reaction, she asks, “Is it okay if I call you that?”
Paul pushes himself up until he’s sitting upright. Meeting Neena’s stare head-on and placing a hand to his chest over his heart, he replies, “It would be my greatest honor, kiddo.”
Neena smiles, then she looks to me. My heart wants to split in two. My beautiful girl is ill, but here she is, smiling. I want to give her a trillion more smiles in the time we have left. And somewhere deep inside where I’d built a wall to protect myself from Paul James, my fortress cracks. He’s weaving his way back in. My instinct is to protect her, but I can’t anymore. If he makes her smile like this in such a tremendously sad time, I must let him.
“I need to get to the office,” I intone after a beat.
“Yeah,” Paul adds, and clears his throat as he stands. “Think I’ll go get my stuff together later today. The hotel has late checkout. I appreciate you letting me stay here.”
“You’re staying here?” Neena gasps, her excitement hard to miss.
“In the guest room,” I clarify.
Neena springs up and rushes toward me, wrapping her skinny arms around my waist and squeezing tightly. “Thank you, Mom,” she whispers. Then she hugs Paul and the biggest grin spreads across his face.
Thank you, he mouths.
I give him a small smile before heading to the bathroom, hoping I’m not making a huge mistake.
“Mom?” Neena questions, her tone dainty as we drive to the Sky High.
“Yes,” I reply, before taking a sip of coffee from my travel mug.
“What’s it like to have sex?”
I nearly spit my coffee all over the steering wheel and front windshield. Somehow I manage to swallow it, but end up coughing a few times. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Who else can I ask?”
Sticking my mug back in the cup holder, I place both hands on the steering wheel, stiffening my arms, bracing myself for this conversation. “I’m glad you’re asking me, sweetie. You can always ask me anything. I’m just curious why you’re asking.”
She shifts in her seat, her hands knotted in her lap, a nervous habit she got from me. “If I tell you why I’m asking, will you promise not to cry?”
Damn. I don’t even know what she’s going to say and I already want to cry just because she is asking me not to. I take a deep breath to steady myself. “I promise.”
“I’ll never have sex.” She gives a little shrug. “Not like I want to now, but one day I think I probably would have.”
Don’t cry, Clara. Do not fucking cry. You promised.
“I want to know what it’s like.”
Blinking rapidly, cursing the tears that are threatening to spill, I steel myself. “Well,” I begin, not at all certain what will come out of my mouth next. “Sex is something that is really . . . wonderful when it’s between two people that really care about each other. When two people love each other, being able to connect to one another physically is something truly amazing.”
“What about people who have sex that don’t love each other?”
I widen my eyes. I definitely have not had enough coffee for this conversation. “I suppose if two adults are consenting to it, sex can be good if they don’t love each other, but definitely nowhere near as good as if they do.”
“So the sex was really good with Dad?”
“Neena,” I say, under my breath. “You really want to know that?”