It’s a picture of us at Robbie and Olivia’s wedding, walking down the aisle together. It doesn’t look like one of the professional pictures from that weekend and I bring it closer to my face for inspection. I’m smiling wide, looking down at the bouquet in my hand, while Jordan’s head is turned my way, a soft look on his face. Another piece of my armor cracks and falls from where it’s encased around my heart.
Even after everything I had put him through—ignoring him, not being willing to hear him out, he was still looking at me like I meant the world to him.
More than that, he keeps the picture on his nightstand.
Does he look at it every night?
Is it a constant reminder of what we could have had?
I swallow the lump in my throat and tiptoe out of the room. Jordan is still asleep on the couch, lying face down on his stomach after having rolled out of the blanket. His arms are clutching the pillow above his head, and his long legs are sprawled, one socked foot dangling over the edge.
I bite my lip and allow myself one more glance, roaming over his muscular thighs and his firm ass before deciding on making breakfast.
I’m quiet as I pull blueberries, milk, and a carton of eggs out of the fridge. I land on making pancakes, knowing the girls will love it as much as Jordan. When the microwave beeps, I take the butter out and look over my shoulder. He’s still asleep and as much as I want to enjoy his conversation, I’m glad he’s getting some rest. He needs it. Especially now that I know how much pain he deals with on a regular basis.
With my back to the living room, I flip the last of the pancakes and scramble a few eggs, adding them into the pan opposite the bacon.
“That smells so good.” Jordan’s deep voice comes from somewhere behind me, and I turn just in time to see him stretching with a sleepy expression on his face. I stare open-mouthed, barely holding on to the spatula, as he closes the space between us and leans in, peeking at the stove and the stack of pancakes on the plate next to it.
“Blueberry. My favorite,” he says, giving me a dopey smile. His freckles are stark in the morning light, and I trace the pattern over his nose and cheeks with my eyes. I want to kiss those freckles. I want to sink my teeth into his bottom lip and taste that dopey smile.
Instead, I clear my throat and take a step back, until my spine meets the edge of the fridge. Jordan looks at me like I’ve grown another head, but I save the moment by saying, “Want some orange juice?”
“Sure,” he says, and I busy myself pouring us juice and stacking food on our plates.
Jordan
I’m notsure what changed between last night, when Alice made her way into my arms, claiming to be cold, and this morning. One moment, she was pinning me with her gorgeous blue eyes, her gaze searching, and the next, she was focusing on everything other than me.
Does she feel this pull between us too?
After breakfast, I offer to keep an eye on all three kids while she takes a shower. As much as I want her to stay, she runs back to her apartment and comes back wearing a matching set of pink sweats, her shoulder-length hair damp from the shower.
“Your turn,” she says, making herself comfortable on the couch, placing a book next to her and perching her laptop on her thighs.
“Okay,” I chuckle, grabbing a towel out of the linen closet and heading into the bathroom. My shower is quick since I don’t want to leave her alone too long. I crave being with her, next to her, around her. I’ll take every ounce of attention she’s willing to give me.
Once I step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my waist, I realize I didn’t bring any clothes in here with me. I groan and screw my eyes shut.
Shit.
The door creaks as I open it slowly and poke my head out, looking towards the living room. Alice’s gaze snaps to mine and she smiles, trying not to show her amusement.
“Everything okay?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.
My cheeks are on fire, and I look down at the floor of my hallway in embarrassment. “I forgot to grab clothes.”
Alice laughs breezily, throwing her head back against the couch. “Want some help?” she asks once she finally calms down.
“No!” I yell out, groaning once more and holding my towel with both hands. “Can you just look away?”
“Sure thing, hotshot,” she says, winking at me, and my dick twitches at the old nickname. I bite my lip and look out once more, making sure she is indeed not watching.
I rush down the hall and duck into my bedroom, but her light chuckle follows me all the way into the closet.
By the endof the day, we’ve stuffed ourselves with leftovers and junk food, watched three movies, and even played a couple of card games.
The girls are asleep once more but before Alice can make herself comfortable on the couch, I say, “What if we take the sleepover to the bedroom?”
