Last on the List (Wait With Me #5)(99)

The nanny.

It’s like a fucking defibrillator pressed to my chest when she darkens my thoughts this past week.

I turn my head to look out the window as well and hope I’m as good at hiding my pain as I think I am.

The past seven days have consisted of work and Everly. Work and Everly. Rinse and repeat with a splash of an Everly night out with Uncle Calder…giving me more time at the office.

Then back to Everly and work.

It’s all I can handle.

I don’t look at Cassandra. I don’t talk to Cassandra. I rush out the second she enters the house. I give the obligatory thumbs-up to the text messages she sends me about how Everly’s days are going, and that’s it.

I don’t even reread the texts before bed at night like I used to because it’s too painful. Reading her words, even in her stilted texts, is like I can hear her voice, see her smile, feel her body next to mine in my bed…which still fucking smells like her. My entire bedroom smells like coconut still. I don’t know how it hasn’t faded, especially when Bettina has been by to clean the house.

Or perhaps the smell has faded, and my mind is just torturing me with the memory of that scent. None of it makes sense. And every bit of it hurts.

Which is why we’re getting the fuck out of Boulder for the weekend. I even booked a hotel room with a waterpark for Everly because I was too afraid that my Aspen house would haunt me with memories of Cassandra as well.

Only a few more weeks to go…then Jess will be home, Cassandra will be gone, and life can get back to normal. I just have to keep putting on a happy face for Everly. I can’t let her see what’s going on inside my head. Because if she did, she would know how incredibly angry I am all the time.

I’m angry I didn’t see that Jenson Hunsberger was a fucking awful human. I’m angry I never mentioned the name of that company before the charity gala. I’m angry I let Cassandra sleep in my bed. I’m angry I asked her out on a date. I’m angry I let myself fall for her. I’m angry I didn’t see the walls she built up. I’m angry I let her infiltrate every part of my life…even down to my own fucking heart.

I’m angriest about that. I let myself love again, and once again, it wasn’t enough.

I thought our differences were what made us work. I thought they were what I’d been missing my whole life. I was fucking dead wrong, and I hate being wrong.

Which is why I’m harnessing all this anger for my Monday morning meeting with the board of All-Out Properties. I have some revisions to this merger that they better fucking accept. Cozy or no Cozy, this is a problem that needs dealing with.

For now, it’s back to all eyes on Everly as it always should have been.





“I’ve never seen so much hard cock in my life!” Kate, aka Mercedes Lee Loveletter, exclaims as she appears in the doorway of my workshop. She’s holding an infant car seat against her hip as she walks over to inspect my work. “Holy shit, you’ve been busy, Cozy!”

I take a moment to peer at Tucker, her little ginger baby boy. He’s fast asleep, and his mushy cheeks are so cute that I have to resist the urge to squeeze them. I prop my hands on my hips and turn my focus back on my work. “Well…I wanted to make a few samples so we could figure out what you think will work best for your book boxes.” I fondle the “cocktuterie” boards carefully. “A phallic-shaped charcuterie board is certainly a first for me, but I think I have a few good options here. You’d be surprised how many different shapes a dick can be.”

“Um…no, I wouldn’t.” Kate barks out a laugh. “Hi…Queen smut writer here. I have a cocktastic imagination, and I could think of an infinite number of dick shapes…some of which have been dropped into my DMs on Instagram.”

I laugh and bow my head. “Pardon me, Queen of the Cocks. I hope these five are satisfactory enough for you to decide from.”

A mighty howl from Tucker turns our focus off each other to the sad little baby who’s woken up in the middle of our cock talk and is not happy about it. Kate unbuckles him from his seat and drapes him over her shoulder. “The smallest cocks are always the loudest.”

I laugh at the very bizarre joke. It feels good to laugh. This week has lacked any kind of laughter. In fact, it’s been pretty much straight misery. Made even more miserable by the fact that Max and Everly left for a weekend trip yesterday. Not that I would have spent any time with them anyway since it’s the weekend, but something was horrifyingly painful about watching them pack up their car and leave me behind yesterday. I felt like an outsider looking in for the first time in weeks.

I hated it.

“Can you hold him while I do a little circle jerk of your masterpieces?” Kate asks, moving toward me.

“Love to,” I reply as she slips him into my arms with all the grace of a well-seasoned mother. He tucks his face into my chest, his cheek pressing against my collarbone as I hold him against me, breathing in that new baby smell.

My throat constricts at the feel of him in my arms. Just two weeks ago, I was talking about babies with Max. I was fantasizing about having his baby. I’m horrified to admit that I went so far as to wonder what our baby would look like, how Everly would be with it. Would she be a protective big sister or a bothered teen that’s annoyed by all the baby crap that would consume Max’s house. I got completely carried away and now everything is a mess.