Will Adam even remember last night?
Will he say anything about me all curled up next to him?
I slept on the floor, and it was the best sleep I’ve had since he last held me through the night.
I let out a ragged breath and head to the kitchen.
Clarissa stands in a chair, the biggest spoon I own in hand, stirring what might be pancake batter, except it’s gray.
Adam dumps a handful of chocolate chips into the bowl. “There, that ought to make them perfect.”
A fine layer of flour dust covers almost every surface, along with Clarissa and Adam. Goo leaks from a broken egg—off the edge of the counter, dripping onto the floor.
I scrape the eggshell and what’s left of the mess that goes with it into my hand. “Is this breakfast or a science experiment gone bad?”
“Maybe both. Clarissa wanted a rainbow in her pancake. Problem is, the colors all mixed together, and now, we have that.” He indicates the bowl.
I rinse my hands. “How do you know she wanted rainbow pancakes?”
“She told me.”
My heart stutters. “What? She told you? What did she say?”
His eyes go wide.
“Oh. No. Sorry.” He nods to the drawing on the fridge. Five lines of different colors stripe the page. “She didn’t tell me with words. She pointed to the picture.”
“And you got rainbow pancakes from that?”
He grins. “Well, it took a minute and a few tries, but she does know how to clap and giggle. So when I got it right, she let me know.”
I press my hand to my heart, and all the mushiness I’ve ever felt sweeps in. “I-I—”
Watching Adam with Clarissa, the way he talks to her, listens to what she says when she’s not uttering a word, the way he keeps tossing looks my way, as though he’s pleading with me to hear what he’s saying—it’s almost more than I can bear.
He lets Clarissa feed him a giant spoonful of raw, gray pancake batter and he smacks and grins, telling her how delicious it is. A hot tear finds its way out of the corner of my eye.
Can he love her? Does he really love me like he said last night? Will he love this baby and stick around to see it grow up?
The doorbell peals, saving me from making an idiot of myself over this man, this man I have no idea how to read. Obviously, he isn’t what I thought, or maybe—oh hell, I don’t even know.
“I’ll get it. Don’t let her fall off the chair.”
Adam salutes. “Yes, ma’am.”
Matt stands on my porch.
Great, just who I was hoping to see—never.
The nausea roars back to life, but I hold my ground.
I won’t get sick in front of him. He might think he’s the reason. Asshat.
“Here are the kid’s things. She left them at my parents’.” He shoves a plastic grocery bag toward me. “Mom insisted I bring the stuff myself.”
I stifle the urge to throw it at his head. “You want to say hi to your daughter?”
Matt pushes his fingers through his hair. “I’m paying the fucking child support. Why can’t you be happy with that? Looks like you’ve got your hooks in me for the next fourteen years or so.”
My jaw drops and my stomach hollows, trembling with anger. “You are such a colossal asshole.”
“You should talk nicer to me, bitch. I’ve earned everything you enjoy right now. If you have it, it’s because of me and my hard work.”
All the years of him telling me how I should be more grateful, appreciate him doing what a husband and father should do, and be thankful he provided for his wife and child come to the forefront of my memory. It’s as if every time he ever said something to that effect has swollen into one huge ball of rage inside me.
I suck in a great breath and let it out in a haughty laugh with a razor-sharp edge. “Really? Well, I hate to break it to you, jackass, but seven years of walking on eggshells, dancing to your tune, laughing at your bad jokes, and stroking your enormous ego says that I earned everything I’ve gotten.”
Matt’s eyes widen as though he can’t believe what I’ve said.
I raise my voice another notch. “And that doesn’t even include all the nights I spent alone, worried and wondering where you were when you were off fucking my best friend. You lied to me and used me to wash your fucking clothes, cook your stupid meals, and clean your god-damned house. So you can kiss my ass.”
He gives me a greasy grin. “Kiss your ass? My lips will never touch your ass again.”
“Oh, big loss there. Even when they did, it wasn’t all that great anyway.”
Matt’s expression hardens and he comes at me, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me against the door. “Get this straight. She’s not my responsibility anymore. We’ve been through this.”