The Best of Winter Renshaw - An 8 Book Collection - Winter Renshaw Page 0,343

a thousand-year slumber in the softest bed known to man, morning shower sex, and a room service breakfast-to-die for.

On the way home, he asked if I’d officially move in with him.

I told him we could make it official this summer, after our three-week trip to Marco Island—a tradition we’re going to carry on in memory of Linda.

We stagger into bed, haphazardly curl up together, and exhale the insanity of the past week.

Or at least I do.

I get the feeling Bennett never lost hope, never doubted for one second that everything would work out in the end.

“Why do you think Larissa wanted me to raise Honor?” Bennett asks through a yawn.

“That’s random …”

He sniffs. “I know. It’s just been on my mind.”

“It’s not something you can just call your guy about and get an answer a week later,” I tease. “I’m sure you’re not used to that.”

“True.”

“You’re going to have to make peace with never knowing.” I roll toward him, resting my arm over the radiant warmth of his upper body. “But I like to think she saw something in you that you’ve never been able to see in yourself.”

“Like what?”

I fight a smile, knowing how insane this is going to sound. “When people look at you, they either see Bruce Wayne … or they see Batman. I think you were her Batman.”

Bennett is still, quiet.

And then he laughs. Laughs.

Bennet Schoenbach … laughing.

And in the dark, I watch him brush away a single tear.

“My God, Astaire, that’s the funniest … saddest thing I’ve ever heard.” He pulls me against him. “But in the strangest way, it makes perfect sense.”

I cup his face and press a kiss against his lips. “I always knew you were a giant softie on the inside, Schoenbach. Now go to sleep.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Fifty-Six

Bennett

* * *

Three Months Later …

* * *

“I’ll get it!” Honor’s footsteps stomp down the hallway Friday night and veer toward the door before I have a chance to stop her.

It wouldn’t be the pizza. We only ordered it five minutes ago.

“Are you expecting someone?” Astaire looks up from the stack of papers she’s grading and pauses Some Like it Hot.

I shake my head, place my first edition copy of Phaedo aside before following my daughter to the door—which she’s already opened.

“Bennett, hi.” Deidre from 6A stands on the other side of the threshold, finger-waving to me with a confused smile on her red lips. “I was just heading out for the night. You didn’t answer your phone and I hadn’t seen you in a while, so I was going to see if you wanted to join me, but it looks like you have company.”

Her gaze falls to Honor before lifting to me again.

“Deidre, this is my daughter,” I say.

Honor slips her hand in mine, leaning against me. A couple of months ago she asked if she could call me “Dad.” Of course I gave her a resounding yes. She has me for life. But deep down I was certain it’d be a while until it felt natural.

Oh, how wrong I was.

“We’re having pizza. You wanna come in?” Honor asks. “My mom is in the other room watchin’ a boring movie but you can do a puzzle with me if you want?”

I glance behind me, wondering if Astaire can hear any of this.

Honor has never referred to her as her “mom” before.

“Oh, no thank you, sweetheart. I don’t want to intrude on your … family time.” Deidre speaks to my daughter but looks at me. Her hazel gaze is glassy, her tone overcompensating for the sting of rejection I imagine she’s experiencing.

Our hookups were never more than hookups—at least not to me. But I imagine there was always a misplaced undercurrent of hope on her end—one I chose to ignore.

I’ve been working on being sensitive to others’ feelings lately. It helps having a girlfriend who’s an open book and a little girl who experiences every spectrum of emotion at the drop of a hat.

“Thanks for stopping by, Deidre.” I place my hand on the door and make a mental note to delete her number. “All the best.”

When I head back to the living room, Honor’s already there. Knelt down in front of Astaire, she’s bouncing excitedly on her knees.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Honor just asked if she could call me Mom.” Astaire studies me. “I told her it’s something you and I would discuss later.”

“Okay!” Unfazed, Honor returns to her puzzle on the floor. A minute later, she’s grown bored with it, opting to