“You are good for my ego, Becky.”
“Daddy …” Sarah called from upstairs, and we both jolted from our chairs and rushed to the bottom of the stairs.
A wailing Mary echoed from the second floor.
“Mary wet her bed.”
A second later, Brad appeared at the top of the stairs, holding a crying Mary. One eyebrow quirked up as he took us both in, and he held this expression as though we’d been caught sneaking out—together.
My first foot was on the stairs when Brad held up a hand. “Becky, it’s fine. Mason is already changing and disinfecting her bed. I’m going to get her changed.” He snaked one hand around Sarah’s shoulders, already guiding her to her room. “You guys just … do whatever you guys were doing.” He coughed at the end to cover up a laugh.
“We were getting water,” Charles said matter-of-factly, already making his way upstairs.
I followed right behind him.
Brad was almost to Mary’s room when he said under his breath, “Is that what we’re calling it now … getting water?”
My cheeks warmed at his words.
Charles grunted and took a sleepy, wet Mary from Brad’s arms. “I’ll change her. She’ll sleep with me tonight.”
We watched Charles walk to the far end of the hall and shut the door to his master bedroom.
The side of Brad’s mouth tipped up, and he pointed to me. “And you. Don’t get any ideas.” His voice was playful, typical Brad. “We will not be getting water together. Ever.”
I laughed because out of all the Brisken men, I swore it was Brad who’d been dropped on his head at a young age.
“Can we get coffee though?” I joked.
He furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t even know what that means.” He scratched the back of his neck and tilted his head, assessing me. “If coffee is anything like getting water, then no. But if you mean coffee, coffee, like straight-up coffee, then yeah.”
I yawned and half-laughed, turning to walk toward my wing of the house. “Good night, Brad.”
Charles
Mary was in the grocery cart while I pushed it down the aisle. Becky had two grocery lists in her hand—hers and then there was Mason’s with his organic and gluten-free items.
I’d fallen into this routine with Becky—a comfortable, more than enjoyable routine. It was almost as though we were a family, married. The only difference was, we weren’t together.
I really hadn’t changed the routine we’d had with Patty. I had always helped get the girls’ breakfast and lunches ready in the morning. But there had been a big difference with Patty, the big difference being that I hadn’t been attracted to my former nanny.
I had never really gone grocery shopping with Patty, but here I was, pushing the cart behind Becky, like she was the mother of my child.
Remember when I’d said I didn’t lie to myself? Truth was, this was an unhealthy habit that would end badly.
I’d told myself time and time again, as long as I didn’t cross that line, we’d be fine. But our late-night dates at the dinner table over water and the light brushes of our arms as we prepared the girls’ lunches every morning were barely walking that fine line.
I couldn’t help it. I craved it, this closeness with another human being that wasn’t simply sex, but something more, sweeter … intimate.
She placed a hand on my arm, getting my attention. That gentle gesture had me leaning toward her, taking in the intoxicating smell of her shampoo.
“Brown rice pasta is okay, right? That’s gluten-free.” She lifted the box toward me, quirking an eyebrow.
Mary grabbed it, already placing it in the cart. “Yep. I love pasta.”
I nodded, answering her question, “That’s fine, Becky.”
Her hand remained on my arm as we moved farther down the aisle. A stronger man would have moved away, but I’d learned that, with Becky, any self-control I had would continually get tested.
“You said we could get cookies.” Mary peered up at me with an evident pout and expectation in her eyes.
“It’s the next aisle over. A promise is a promise.” I touched the tip of her nose with my fingertip.
“But I want to go to that aisle now.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pushing out her pouting lip.
“Charles …”
I heard my name being called from a distance, but before I turned around, I already knew who that voice belonged to.
Vivian.
I turned and swallowed, watching her walk stealthily in her four-inch heels. She must have been coming from work because she was in a fitted black skirt suit.
My whole body