The First Taste(54)

I get my things and go home.





FIFTEEN


Flora greets me at my front door. “Bell’s asleep,” she says before I even empty my pockets. “I’m sorry, Andrew.”

“It’s okay. I thought she would be.” I run a hand through my hair. My fingers stink like cigarette smoke. “Where’s Pico?”

“Took off earlier. He couldn’t hack it.”

I try to muster a smile, but it’s forced. I thought once I left the hotel and got on the train, I’d feel better about coming home. I don’t. Amelia would’ve looked edible splayed on the hotel’s king-size bed for my hands and mouth. During the ride home, I couldn’t decide if coming back was the right choice, but being a good dad is never the wrong one.

I pay Flora. She refuses to accept the way she normally does, and I insist like I normally do until we finally come to our regular agreement—she’ll accept if she can have Bell and me over for dinner one night next week.

Once I’ve locked up the house, I peek into Bell’s bedroom. She’s on her back, her legs and arms open like a starfish. The kid can sleep in any position.

I slip into the room and look down at her. Her eyes are pink and puffy, her breathing even. I might resent Shana, but I can never completely hate her. She gave me Bell, and Bell gives me a reason to wake up in a good mood every morning. So what if I spoil her? So what if I’d sacrifice anything for her happiness? I’m a father before I’m a man.

Her eyes fly open. She blinks a couple times, taking in her surroundings. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

I smile. Stubborn every waking—or sleeping—moment. “I know.” I sit on the edge of her bed. “What’d you do with Flora tonight?”

“She showed me some cursive.”

“Yeah? You don’t learn that until next year.”

She shrugs. “I wanted to try. Flora says they might not teach it anymore and that’s a tragedy.”

“A travesty,” I correct with a smile. “So you had fun?”

“No.”

I frown. “Why not?”

“Did you have fun?” she asks.

I pull back a little at the unexpected question. She’s getting older and more perceptive, but how much does she understand? If I say no, I’d be lying. “Yes,” I say. “Aunt Sadie and Uncle Nathan say hi.”

She sighs, rubbing her eyes. “You said Uncle Nathan couldn’t go.”

“Sadie was wrong.” In more ways one. I brush some loose strands off her cheek. “You can have fun without me, Bell. It doesn’t make me feel bad. I want you to.”

She waits a few seconds to respond, as if mulling this over. “We played a board game. Pretty Pretty Princess.”

“Your favorite,” I say.

She giggles. “Pico put on jewelry. And the crown.”

The image warms my heart, not because it makes Bell giggle, but because Pico embarrasses easily and I know I’ll get to f*ck with him tomorrow. I’m all too familiar with pink plastic necklaces and jewel-shaped clip-on earrings, but Pico doesn’t know that. “I bet he looked very pretty, and I’ll be sure to mention that in front of all the guys tomorrow. What about Flora? Did she look pretty?”

“No.” She closes her eyes as sleep visibly overtakes her. “She’s like a grandma.”

I pick up her hand and kiss the back of it. “Just so you know, no matter how old you are, you’ll always be my princess. Even when you’re a grandma.”

She sighs. “You’ll be dead by then.”

I laugh. Brat.

By the time I’ve kissed the top of her head, she’s asleep. I turn out the hallway lights and head to my room. So Bell thinks it’ll hurt my feelings to have fun without me. Sadie would say Bell got that idea from me—that I don’t know how to be without her. Maybe Sadie isn’t entirely wrong.

I strip down to my boxer briefs. Gone are the days I get to sleep in the nude, which is what I’d be doing right now if I’d stayed at the hotel. With Amelia. After a bout of f*cking. We’d be skin on skin right now, curled up together. Or would we? Would she have kicked me out already?

I dig out her business card and my phone from my pants before I get into bed. She told me to lose her number, and maybe I should. Now that I’m home, though, where I know Bell is safe and happy, I’m left with the unsettling realization that I truly did want to spend tonight with Amelia. I’ve never been tempted to leave Bell overnight for someone. There’s more to Amelia I don’t know and her veneer should make me want to stay away, but instead I have the urge to get beneath it. Not just for me, but for her.

I type her a text.



Hello ma’am. This is your service provider performing a routine check to make sure you’re satisfied with our services. To be clear, this is not the man you gave your number to earlier and then told him to lose it.



I hit send. She has no reason to respond, but when she does, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I open the message.



I’m satisfied, no thanks to you. Sorry you missed it.



A second later, my phone buzzes with a photo—of her, in the bathtub from the chest down, completely hidden by bubbles. The only skin visible is a bent knee and her red toes curled against the opposite lip of the tub. Fuck me. She stayed in the room. She took a bath, without me. Did she . . . satisfy herself? Is that why her toes are curled? Is she touching herself?