Every Kiss(102)

After I hear his jeep pull out of the drive, I try to fall back to sleep, I really do, but I can’t because I’m hungry. It was too weird at dinner last night with my parents, so I didn’t eat much, and by the time we got here, Wes practically attacked me. I’m sure he burned off everything I did eat, plus some.

Giving up on sleep for now, I get up and tug on one of Wes’ t-shirts and a pair of shorts from my bag. The house is still pretty dark, but a soft glow is beginning to filter through the curtains, giving me enough light to maneuver to the kitchen without turning on any lights. Not that I’d need them anyway . . . the scent of fresh coffee is all I need to lead me there.

Wes has even already gotten a mug and spoon out for me, along with my favorite creamer and sugar. The coffeepot is completely full, too, so that tells me he only made it for me. I knew he was capable of being a complete sweetheart, but the changes that I’ve seen in him in such a short time are staggering. He told me he wanted to give this relationship everything he has, and in just a few days, he’s treated me better than any guy ever has. With this new lease on life, I’m only seeing the best of him. I think, before much longer, he’ll finally open up to me and tell me everything else that he says I don’t know about him.

After two cups of coffee and a blueberry bagel with cream cheese, I’m feeling a lot better, and even though I’ve just downed all that caffeine, I’m actually a little drowsy. I clean up my mess and turn the coffeepot off, making sure everything is in perfect order in case I’m still asleep when he comes home.

Curling back up on his side of the bed, I settle into his pillow, the scent of his shampoo wafting all around me. I close my eyes and imagine him there beside me, curled up next to me in peaceful slumber. The quiet serenity of his slow, deep breaths. The gentle rise and fall of his chest. The way he reaches out to me in his sleep, just to make sure I’m still there. And by the time I fall asleep, I can almost feel him there.





THE FRONT DOOR closes so loud that I jerk upright. Glancing at the clock, I see that I’ve only slept a couple hours, and only being ten o’clock, he really must’ve rushed to get out of there. Something tells me that it won’t take him long to come find me.

“He’s not here right now, Macy,” a woman’s voice echoes down the hallway. “Daddy’s at work, but we’ll see him this evening when he gets home.”

What. The. Hell.

“Da-da work. Cookie pwease.” A delighted child’s laughter follows. “Cookie!”

“Yes, but only one. I’ll make you some lunch soon. Ooh, and we can find something to cook for Daddy for dinner tonight, too, to surprise him.”

“Suh-pwise, Da-da!”

The woman chuckles. “Yes, you can yell surprise when he gets here. He’ll like that.”

I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming. If I close my eyes hard enough, I’ll go back to sleep and laugh about this later. There’s no way in hell there’s really a woman and kid in there, calling Wes “Daddy.” It’s just not for real. It’s not in any way possible.

“Macy, baby, don’t play with Daddy’s pictures. You’ll leave fingerprints.”

“Mama, wook . . . it’s Un-cah Shane.”

“Yes, now put the picture down.”

Damn it. Damn it all to hell. I’m not freaking dreaming and the kid is calling Shane her uncle. That realization has me boiling. Even if he’s not with this woman, how dare he put me in this situation? How could he not tell me about this? Why the hell does she have a key?

I slip out of bed as quietly as I can, trying to figure out how to proceed. Do I just stroll out there casually and introduce myself? Well, there’s always the closet. Maybe I can just hang out in there until Wes gets home and can explain himself.

Yeah, I don’t see that being too much fun, either. It’s not going to be pretty.

I did suspect this all along, but this straight up pisses me off. He should’ve told me before. I just don’t understand why he didn’t. I thought we’d come a long way. Unless . . . unless he’s still seeing her. Maybe he’s playing me. Or her. Or both of us.

That just really doesn’t seem like his style though. But neither does hiding the fact that he has a daughter from me and his entire family. Bastard.

Since I can’t exactly leave, I grab my cell phone from the nightstand, deciding that the next best thing to do is confront him about it. Quietly.



Me: ‘Just thought you should know, your daughter is here. And I’m pissed.’



Remembering that he has a meeting this morning, I realize he may not answer right away. I guess I’m just going to have to grow some balls and walk out there, like “What’s up? Nice to meet you. Oh, that’s cool, I’m screwing Wes, too.” Damn it, I hate him right now.