Morgan rolls the chair over so I can grab my binder of client logs out from the drawer. “It’s not like that. Our girls are in the same grade at the same school, so we’re going to try and help each other out. We could all use a little relief every now and then.”
“You mean like at 4:30 in the morning when you have to work.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. I’m not getting all my hopes up, but we’re going to try and see how things go.”
“I’m glad for you.” Morgan stands up and stretches. The day is about to begin. No use in sitting around. “You’ve needed the help for a while. It helps that she’s your type.”
I scoff. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“She’s not your type?”
“I didn’t say that. But I don’t need you scaring her off. She just moved in and so far, she’s the most considerate roommate I’ve ever had. If she leaves, I’ll get stuck living with someone like Joey.”
Morgan grimaces. I see we understand each other now. “Point made. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go walk a little bit to get my energy up.”
“Still caffeine free?”
“I could kill you for convincing me to eat clean. I’ve dropped those few pounds, but I’m not sure the sacrifice of my beloved coffee is worth it.”
“And yet, here we are.”
“Yeah, yeah. Make yourself useful and put the yoga mat we have stored under the table away, would ya?” She turns and walks away, me chuckling at her snarky attitude. She’s not wrong. It’s absolutely my fault she’s clean eating. I recommend it to all my clients and harp on them until they finally follow through, if only to get me to shut up. Being that Morgan is my former client and a new employee, I simply reminded her she needed to walk the walk if she was going to talk the talk.
I blame the string of curse words she gave me after my comment on the caffeine headache she was sporting.
Flipping through my file, I make mental notes on what I’ll be doing today.
“Beeeeeeast!” The voice booms through the room in greeting as the man attached to it heads my way. Time to get this day rolling.
Chapter Ten
ELLIOTT
“It’s very late, so as soon as we get inside, I want you to run upstairs and brush your hair. Your dad is going to be here in a few minutes, and I don’t want him to have to wait.”
I don’t tell my daughter that my instructions have less to do with making him wait and more to do with not wanting to interact with him for longer than necessary. Derrick may be a jerk, but he’s still Ainsley’s dad. She can make her own determination about him when she’s older.
Ainsley nods as she skips, her breath coming out in little puffs of white because of the chilly air. It’s dark out but fortunately, because it’s still early by adult-standards, the streets are full of activity. We’re not the only ones just getting home for the day, I see.
Racing up the steps to get out of the chill, I put my new key in the lock and turn.
My new key. I love that. There is a feeling of freedom being on my own again.
As the door opens, though, I face the fact that I’m not totally on my own. However small it is, I still have a bit of help in my life. And currently, that help is making dinner. The smell of something fantastic invades my senses.
“I’m hungry, Mommy.” Ainsley’s mouth is probably watering from the aroma like mine. Lucky for her, her dad usually caters to whatever she wants for dinner. Too bad for me, I was going to have a grilled cheese sandwich. It’s not going to come close to comparing to whatever Abel is making.
“Me too, baby. Hurry up and take your shoes off.” She complies and bounds up the stairs with me calling after her, “Don’t forget to hang up your backpack on the hook.”
I have no idea if she has her selective hearing turned on or not, but by the thud I hear on the floor above me, I’m pretty sure it is not. I’d fight with her about it, but frankly, I’m too tired from disciplining other people’s children today. I’d rather choose my battles right now.
Removing my coat and gloves, I hang them in the closet and remove my shoes. I love snow when it falls. I hate slush when it melts. I hate it even worse when it gets tracked it all over the house.
Padding my way into the kitchen in my fuzzy socks, I see Abel and quip, “Hi honey, I’m home.”
His face lights up as he glances up at me from the pot on the stove. “Hey, how was your day?”
Wow. That’s the nicest greeting I think I’ve ever had when coming home. A girl could get used to this. I find myself wondering for the umpteenth time why his wife would ever leave a catch like him.
Leaning against the doorjamb, I cross my arms, the sounds of another Wii game softly wafting up the stairs in the background. “Let’s see, I would say it went well, except I think my stations are working better than I had hoped.”
“That’s good news, right?” Abel dumps some seasonings into the mixture and stirs carefully so he doesn’t slop any over the side and onto the stovetop.
“Normally, I’d say yes. What I didn’t plan on is a third grader using the homework station to do her math homework. Nor did I expect her to need my help. Whoever came up with common core should be shot.”
“Sounds awful.” Holding out a spoonful of the soup he’s cooking, he offers it to me. “Here. Try this. It’ll make everything better.”
Who am I to argue when the house smells this amazing?
Opening my mouth, my eyes lock on Abel’s as I take the spoon. Immediately, the flavors explode in my mouth. Chicken and spices, some basil, and a little something else, but I’m not sure what. A moan of appreciation comes from my chest, and I realize what an intimate moment this really could be, especially when he smiles at me. But it doesn’t feel weird. It feels carefree and normal.
It's Abel. He’s just easy to be around him. Easy to talk to. Even easy to take a bite of soup with him holding the spoon. In the couple of weeks we’ve lived here, none of our interactions have ever turned creepy. Not for the first time, I thank my lucky stars I ended up with a really good roommate. Dare I say, an almost-friend. If he lets me keep sampling his cooking, we might end up more than friends.
“That is amazing. What is it?” I ask, as I finish swallowing.
He’s obviously delighted at my reaction. “Chicken and quinoa soup.”
Quinoa? What the hell is quinoa?
“I’m sorry, what?”
He chuckles as he takes his own taste, using the same spoon he fed me with. I’m a little more flattered at that realization than I should be. “Quinoa is a pseudo-cereal grain that I use in the place of rice. It is extremely good for you, and I always buy the fresh brand that hasn’t been processed and bagged, so it has extra health benefits. In fact,” he continues as he opens a cabinet and pulls out some bowls, “every ingredient in this soup is organic, additive-free, preservative-free, gluten-free, and pesticide-free.” Handing me a steaming bowl of yummy goodness, he tacks on, “Enjoy your very first clean eating meal.”
I have a hard time tamping down my excitement. I wasn’t kidding when I said it was amazing, and with as hungry as I am, this is the best surprise I could have come home to. “And here I was going to have a grilled cheese sandwich. You didn’t have to cook for me.”
“In the words of a certain sleepwalker, it’s not hard to add one more serving if I’m already cooking.”
I should have known my words would be used against me at some point. “That’s not exactly what I said, but I’m so hungry, I’m not going to argue at this point.”
I lift the spoon to my mouth, but before I can shovel any in, a short, blonde terror runs right past me, nearly knocking me off balance.
“Ainsley!” I call out, just as she yells, “Sorry, Mom. I’m coming Mabel!” and stomps down the stairs to the basement.
Abel looks highly amused at what was almost a terrible food tragedy. “You better be glad that didn’t fall,” I remark as I try again. “I don’t know where the mop is aro
und here, so clean up would have been all on you.”
“I never questioned your ability to hold on to your food for one second.”
“Smart man.” I begin eating, although scarfing might be a more appropriate term. If this man cooks like this regularly, I’ll be the first to say I lucked out on who gets which shift with the girls. I might need to step up my game and bring him a smoothie or protein shake or whatever trainers eat in the morning, so he never stops making dinner.
“Is everyone eating?” Abel continues to dish out servings. I should probably quit shoveling it in like a pig and help him set a table or something. Eh. I’ll do that before my second serving.
Shaking my head, I pause to answer him. “My ex is coming to pick up Ainsley any minute.”
“What time was he supposed to be here?”
“Half an hour ago.” Abel turns to me, an incredulous look on his face. I just shrug. “He likes to see how far he can push me. He’s too wrapped up in himself to realize I don’t care that much if he’s late. He still has to have her home by eight, so who is really missing out?”
“Ainsley.”
Bang on. “Yep. But she’s gotten used to it and thinks he’s flakey. The amount of grace she gives him is off the charts, but what are you gonna do? Their relationship doesn’t have anything to do with me, as long as she’s not being hurt by it.”
“Smart thinking.” He carries two bowls to the small table across the way. I follow with my almost empty bowl, trying to decide how long I need to wait to get more so I don’t come across as desperate. “I wish I could say that about Mabel.”
“She doesn’t see her mom?” Genuine curiosity takes over. I never thought to ask why Abel has custody. Maybe because he’s not the only man I know raising a child. By the huff he responds with though, it doesn’t sound good.
Abel takes a big bite from his own bowl before continuing our conversation. “May only shows up when she wants something or wants to use Mabel for something.”
“Like what?”
“Like when her manager, also known as her boyfriend, wanted to promote her as a doting single mother. I guess he was trying to drum up interest in her modeling career or whatever. She called and asked to take Mabel for the day, and since she lives in New York, who am I to say no when my kid’s mom comes into town, ya know?” I nod, because that’s what any reasonable parent would do. “I didn’t find out until later they spent the day getting hair and makeup done, and doing an ‘impromptu,’”—and yes, he uses air quotes—“photo shoot that was suddenly all over her social media.”
I crinkle my nose. Nothing is worse than a parent who tries to use their kids as trophies. “Well, that’s wildly inappropriate.”
“Tell me about it,” he says between bites. “I wasn’t even mad she shared the pictures. They were really pretty. It just rubbed me the wrong way. I guess it showed her intentions, and I have an issue with that.”
We go back to our food, each in our own thoughts. Him, probably thinking about those pictures. Me, oddly grateful that at least my ex shows up. Late, yes. But at least he’s around.
Speak of the devil. A knock at the door indicates Derrick is finally here.
Popping up from my chair, I begin to make my way to the kitchen to call for Ainsley when Abel stops me.
“I’m going to get more anyway. Want me to call her while you answer the door?”
No. I’d rather not talk to Derrick for that long. But I don’t say that. Instead, I take advantage of the moment. “Sure. And would you mind getting me a little more soup too?”
“You like clean eating,” he jokes, a huge smile on his face.
“I like eating when someone else makes it,” I joke back. “Cook every night, and you’ll have me detoxed in no time.”
“Don’t tempt me. I’m always up for a challenge.”
Derrick knocks again, because despite making us wait on him for over thirty minutes, he seems to have no patience of his own. Abel’s eyebrow rises, and I know he’s thinking the exact same thing.
With a sigh, we go our separate ways and I prepare myself to hold my tongue and play nice. “Ainsley’s best interest, Ainsley’s best interest…” I mutter to myself before pulling the door open.
Derrick pushes his way past me and into the warmth of the house, shivering. Granted, he’s covered in snow flurries, but I still have very little care that he’s cold.
“Brrrr.” He rubs his hands together and pulls the cashmere scarf from his face. No hat for Derrick. Couldn’t let those five-thousand-dollar hair plugs go to waste by covering them up. “I didn’t realize it was going to snow tonight.”
“Yeah, the forecast has been calling for it for days.”
“Huh. Who knew?”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from answering with, “Everyone in the greater Chicago area who pays attention to the weather.” That would be counter-productive to the civility I work hard to have with him.
Derrick looks around the room while pulling off his gloves. “So, this is the new place. I’m impressed. I didn’t know you could afford a place this nice.”
I ignore the dig and keep my hand on the doorknob, knowing if I step farther into the living area, he’ll take himself on a tour. Better to keep myself next to the front door so he doesn’t misunderstand my desire to have him run free.
“What can I say? I was in a better position than I thought, and the right opportunity dropped in my lap.”
At that exact moment, Abel walks out of the kitchen, two bowls in his hands. He places them on the table and approaches.
In a matter of milliseconds, my brain registers that this could go any number of ways.
Both men play nice and all goes well.
Neither man plays nice, and I have to figure out how to clean blood off the floor and look for bandages.
Only one of these men play nice and the other pitches a huge hissy fit with me later.
Abel shoots a smile at a scowling Derrick and holds out his hand in greeting.
Number three it is.
“Hey, I’m Abel. I’ve heard a lot about you, Derrick.”
I almost choke on my own spit at his ability to lie like that. He’s heard very little about my ex and none of it has been good.
I watch as Derrick literally stands up taller and juts his chin out before taking Abel’s hand. He is obviously unhappy about there being a man in my house, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s squeezing Abel’s hand as hard as he can right now.
“Unfortunately, I’ve heard nothing about you.” I roll my eyes at his attempt to make things weird. Abel, on the other hand, just rolls with the punches. I’m finding that to be true of him most of the time.
“Well, our living arrangements are pretty new, so I’m sure it wasn’t intentional on Elliott’s part.”
If eyeballs could pop out of a person’s head simply from widening your lids too fast, Derrick’s would be rolling across the floor right now. He whips his head to look at me so quickly, I’m also surprised he doesn’t snap his neck. This is going to be a really fun conversation later.
“Anyway,” Abel continues, as if he didn’t just poke the bear, “I’ll call Ainsley again. I think they were playing Wii boxing, and you know how that goes. Good to meet you, Derrick.” He turns and saunters off, and I swear he puffs out his chest more than normal.
What is happening here? Neither one of these men want me in a romantic sense, so why are they suddenly peeing on my leg?
As soon as Abel is out of sight, the inquisition begins.
“You’re living with him?” Derrick hisses. “Our court order specifically states you can’t live with someone of the opposite sex without my permission.”
I cross my arms, trying not to speak with as much anger as I feel.
“That court order also states those parameters are null and void if you do it first. Which you did. Without telling me.”
He gapes at me. “That was only for a couple of months.”
“I guess you should h
ave thought about that before moving in with Muffy or whatever. Her name alone should have been your first indicator it wouldn’t work out long-term.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“No, it’s exactly the point, Derrick. Abel isn’t even technically my roommate. If you want to get nitpicky, he’s my housemate. Not my boyfriend. Not my lover. Not the man I’m living with. He’s a single dad with a girl in Ainsley’s class who had part of his house to rent out. He’s also my co-worker. This isn’t a cohabitating situation. There is no sex happening here. It’s a living arrangement. That’s all.”
“Well, I don’t like it. You don’t know he’s not a serial killer.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “Now you sound like my mother.”
His gasp sounds more like that of a little girl than a grown man. But considering he’s being a big baby now, I guess that’s about right. “I resent that. I am nothing like your overbearing, condescending…”
“Daddy!”
A little voice cuts off all conversation and Derrick and I both paint smiles on our faces as Ainsley comes racing into the room, wrapping her arms around her father’s middle.
“I’m hungry. Where are we going to eat?”
“Wherever you want, baby girl.” He kisses her on the top of the head and pulls away. “Where are your shoes and coat? We need to go.”
“Right here.” Ainsley practically bounces to the closet and pulls out everything she needs to go out into the cold. Unlike her father, she’s discerning enough to put on a hat as well.
In a matter of seconds, she is bounding out the door and down the steps, Derrick pulling up the rear. As I get ready to close the door, he turns to me. “This conversation isn’t over.”
“We’re not married anymore,” I say quietly. “You don’t get to decide that.” And I shut the door in his face.
Leaning my forehead against the cool wood, I take a series of deep breaths. I made it. One more argument down with my child being none the wiser. Well, she might know. Kids aren’t stupid. But at least we argue respectfully. That’s a positive, right?
Cutie and the Beast: A Roommates to Lovers Single Dad Romance (Cipher Office Book 3) Page 8
