Written with You (The Regret Duet #2) - Aly Martinez Page 0,20

our family. It was funny how natural it felt having her around. I was trying hard to live by the rules Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday. But the hollowness from knowing she was fifteen minutes and a phone call away on all the other days of the week was starting to wear me down.

If she were any other woman, I wouldn’t have been staring at my ceiling every night, my fingers aching to connect with her even if it was only through text.

Sure, I had a daughter, but she had a bedtime of eight.

I could have seen Hadley every night of the week. I could have taken her to nice dinners, bars—whatever people did on dates nowadays.

But she wasn’t any other woman.

She was Rosalee’s mother.

And I was starting to feel like we needed to let my daughter in on that secret sooner rather than later.

“Welp. I should really get going before you ask me to stay and help you clean,” Hadley announced.

“Smartass.”

She gathered the scattered remnants of her makeup bag off the floor and tucked them into her purse. “You want me to bring over a Magic Eraser tomorrow? It should save you the trouble of calling the painter again.”

I wanted her to stay and get naked, though I’d have to settle for a kiss and a few gropes on the front steps—the only place we were sure Rosalee wouldn’t catch us—when I walked her out. “Trust me, I own stock in Mr. Clean.” I turned the light off and shut the bathroom door. I’d have to clean it before I went to bed, but first… “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

I swung the front door open and waited for her to exit first, but she came to an abrupt stop, mumbling, “Oh, goodie.”

Peering around her, I saw Ian leaning against the hood of his car. He wasn’t headed up the walk or climbing out. He was just sitting there as if he’d been waiting for a while.

I’d yet to tell him about the change in my relationship with Hadley. It wasn’t that I was keeping it from him exactly. I was just…keeping it from him in general.

“What are you doing?” I called.

He looked to Hadley then back to me. “Stopped by to talk to you about the Goodman account.”

“You know there’s this little button next to the door that you can press to let me know you’re here, right?”

His disapproving gaze drifted to Hadley as he stated, “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Ooookay. That’s my cue to leave,” she whispered, starting down the steps.

Nope. Ian could be as pissy as he wanted, but no way I was letting him rob me of one of my three weekly opportunities to taste her. Catching her arm, I spun her around, my mouth sealing over hers. As always, her lips were pliable, but this time, her body stiffened. She gripped my bicep for balance, both of us teetering on the top step. But despite Ian’s no doubt murderous glare heating her back, she opened her mouth, welcoming me in for an all-too-brief tongue sweep.

She pulled away first, burying her forehead in the curve of my neck. “I think our plan not to tell Ian has been foiled.”

“Strong possibility.”

“Well then. I’m going to leave you to clean up two messes tonight.”

“Chicken,” I murmured.

When her head popped up, she was wearing that epic smile again. And it hit me just as hard as it always did. Warming me in a way Ian’s icy glare could never cool.

“I’ll see you Wednesday,” she whispered.

I nodded and dipped for another lip touch.

Ducking, she dodged me and laughed as she trotted to her car. “Night, Ian.”

His dark gaze tracked her until her taillights disappeared into the distance. Only then did he turn his attention back to me. “We’re keeping secrets now?”

I shrugged. “So, funny story. Turns out you were right and I have a thing for Hadley.”

He strolled up to the door. “Shocking. I’m especially impressed with how you were so mature and upfront, telling me about it so I didn’t have to show up at your house unannounced to find out.”

“Don’t give me that guilt trip. You know why I didn’t tell you.”

“Because I would have told you, again, that it was a stupid idea?”

I swayed my head from side to side. “More or less.”

He followed closely as I walked inside, heading straight for my downstairs office. I didn’t work from home much anymore, but when Rosalee had been little, I’d claimed that glorified closet so I wouldn’t wake