"That was Gavin," he says in a low growl. "Evidently Sophie has no money and nowhere to go, so she and the little girl slept in her car in the parking lot last night."
I say nothing. I don't know what to say.
"What the hell kind of mother makes her kid sleep in a car in the parking lot of a damn bar?"
I don't answer because he already knows the answer.
A crappy one.
Angrily, Cash whips back the covers and leaps from the bed to stalk to the bathroom. I lie quietly and patiently to await his return. It's only seconds later that the door reopens, though, and my husband walks back to the bed. He perches one hip on the side of the mattress and leans over me, brushing his lips back and forth across mine before trailing them to my ear.
"Good morning, my beautiful wife," he murmurs.
"Good morning, my handsome husband," I reply, winding my arms around his neck.
"Can't we just rewind to yesterday?"
"How I wish we could," I tell him candidly.
He leans up to look down into my face, his gorgeous black eyes glinting like onyx in the soft wedge of light pouring from the bathroom. "I wish I could skip every day that would hurt you. Make your life perfect. All the time."
"No one's life is perfect, but as long as I have you, it's as perfect as I need it to be."
"Well, you don't have to worry about that. You're never getting rid of me."
"That's the best news I've heard all day."
"It's only a little after seven."
"Then tell me again tonight. I'll say the same thing."
"Gladly," he says, giving me a hard peck before he moves away. "I'm going to splash some water on my face and then go out and see what's going on. Do you wanna come with me?"
"No, I think I'll stay here."
"I won't be long," he promises.
I try to give him a bright smile when he comes out of the bathroom, dressed in last night's clothes with his hair still sticking up at odd angles all over his head, but nothing in my heart feels bright. Something tells me that there's a sob story on its way. And that that sob story is going to turn my life upside down.
Again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cash
Sophie is watching me as I walk to the only car in the lot. It's a total piece of shit black hatchback that looks like it's being held together with duct tape. I don't see a license tag in the front and I can't help wondering if she drove that thing all the way down here from Canada.
Or if she's been living somewhere else all this time. Like in the states. Where she could reach me fairly easily. To let me know she's okay or, I don't know, to tell me I have a damn kid that I've missed for nine years. Just thinking about it puts fire in my blood.
I walk to the driver's side just as she's rolling down the window.
"What are you doing here, Sophie?" I ask, my tone admittedly clipped.
I feel like a shitheel when her eyes fill with tears. "I'm so sorry to be here, Cash. This way. After all this time. But … but I just have nowhere else to go and … and … I need help. We need help."
I glance in the back seat at the little girl curled up on her side, hands folded under one rosy cheek, a blanket pulled all the way up to her neck.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me that last night? Jesus Christ, Sophie! She'll catch her death sleeping in a car!"
I move to yank open the back door and gently extricate the sleeping Isabella. She curls toward me, snuggling against my chest. A pang of paternal protectiveness mixed with fury at Sophie burn in my gut.
I kick the door shut with my boot and speak to my ex as I pass. "Let's take this inside where it's warm." I don't wait to see if she follows me.
Within seconds, I hear the slam of another door and the scrambling of feet on gravel as Sophie rushes to catch up to my long, angry stride.
"You have every right to be upset with me, Cash, but at least let me explain."
"Explain," I reply, still walking.
"Wait," Sophie says, tugging on my arm. "Not in there."
I stop and turn to look at her. "Why not?"
Her blue eyes, eyes I used to think were quite beautiful, plead with mine. "Because I … I doubt you're alone."
I frown. "Of course I'm not alone. My wife is in there, but why does that matter?"
Sophie casts her eyes downward and then left to right before she hesitantly drags them back up to mine. "She … I … does she know about me? About us?"
"She does now."
"Does she know … everything?"
I let her squirm in the quiet, in the discomfort of my pointed stare for several long seconds before I answer. "No, but she will."
"Cash, please. Please don't tell her. Can't we just put all that behind us and find some way to move forward? To start over? Not for me, but for Isabella?"