On their first Wilderness Warriors excursion of the season.
Me: What time are you taking her to the playground?
I’ve missed both him and Peony, so there’s no question about me joining them. They’re the distraction I need from Dr. Edwards’s earlier words about my possible rheumatoid arthritis diagnosis.
Garrett: 6 p.m.
Me: Okay. I’ll drop by your house then. Now get back to work. No more using me for procrastination. [silly face emoji]
Garrett: Yes, ma’am.
I snicker, and my thoughts shift in a new direction. To the accidental kiss.Nope. Nope-nope-nope. Not happening.With anot-going-therehuff, I get to work removing the shelves from the walls…while not thinking about Garrett’s lips on mine.
While not thinking about the way my body tingled in response to the kiss.
While not thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him once more but longer. Harder. Deeper.
Because what happened five days ago, when my lips accidentally touched his, can’t happen again. He doesn’t feel that way about me.
But what if he does?
I push the thought aside. He hasn’t given me any reason to think there’s anything else between us. And the last thing I want is to read into something that doesn’t exist.
So. No more kissing Garrett.
Even if I want to.
23
GARRETT
My inbox pingswith a new email notification. Zara is due here any minute, and I’m more than ready to take a short break from writing. The chapter I’m working on is an emotional, heart-stopping, breath-stealing rollercoaster.
Now that I have a daughter, who I already love and would do anything for, writing about a kidnapped child is emotionally draining. The story hits too close to home.
How would I feel if Peony were kidnapped? She might be indifferent toward me, but enough of her pieces have woven into my heart, if something happened to her, the organ would unravel, cease beating, turn to dust.
I shake my head, clearing the thought away, and check the inbox. My gut clenches. The email is from the lab that runs the paternity tests.
I take a deep breath and hover the mouse over the subject heading, my clicking finger suddenly paralyzed.Are you ready to see what it says?
Am I ready to find out if the girl who doesn’t want to be my daughter reallyismy daughter? Or maybe the testing facility will make my life easier and tell me someone else is her father.
Then I can ship her and Athena off, and Peony and her distrust of me will no longer be my problem.
Except, what will happen to them? Does Athena have the name of another man whose doorstep she and Peony can show up on? Do they have a place they can call home? Hopefully if there is another guy, Peony accepts him, even though she hasn’t accepted me.
Are you ready to know the truth?
Peony’s giggles outside my office window tear my attention from the inbox. She and Athena are leaping from one stepping stone to the next, along the path weaving between the trees. Peony’s coordination isn’t there yet, and her leaping is more like stepping. But she doesn’t seem to care. She loves the game, which they frequently play.
She steps onto the next stone and giggles again.
Am I ready?
I power off the laptop. I’ll wait until I’m with Zara at the playground. For better or for worse, no matter what the results say, I need my best friend by my side when I read them.
My gaze returns to Peony, but my brain is no longer interested in dwelling on what the email might say. It revisits the same memory that has plagued me for the past five days.
