by Kira Blakely
“See, everything’s fine.”
Lily seems fine now, too. In fact, she seems happy as she splashes around.
I hold up a finger. “No splashing, please.”
“Okay.”
I start washing her hair and then rinse it, being careful not to get any shampoo in her eyes. Afterward, I add some bubbles to the tub, and we start playing. Lily giggles as she tries to scoop the bubbles in her small hands. She blows on them, sending them drifting through the air like dandelion seeds.
I, too, laugh as I try to draw something on the tiles with bubbles. “Told you bubbles were fun.”
We must have been having too much fun, though, because we lost track of time. We didn’t even notice Ben coming home.
By the time I knew he was home, though, it was too late. Ben stood in the doorway, staring.
Shit. How long has he been standing there?
Then something more important occurs to me – I’m not wearing anything at all.
No wonder he’s staring.
Instinctively, I put one arm over my breasts and use the other to splash water on him.
“Out! Get out!”
He does, but I have a feeling the damage has already been done as I grip the edge of the tub, my chest heaving and my heart still pounding.
“You said no splashing,” Lily says, unaware of what’s just happened.
I look at her and sigh.
I really must be going out of my mind.
Chapter 4
“You’ll be fine. You’ll get used to it,” Gemma assures me over the phone that night.
She’s called to ask how I’m doing, and I’ve given her a full report; everything except the misunderstanding I had last night and the debacle in the bathroom. Thankfully, Ben let that slip after apologizing and scolding me at the same time. Frankly, I just want to forget both.
“I don’t know, Gem.” I shake my head before letting myself fall on top of the bed. “This really doesn’t feel like my thing.”
“Well, you don’t have a thing right now, do you?”
“Ouch.” I frown.
“All I’m saying is this isn’t permanent. You’ll get back on your feet, and my brother will find a proper babysitter. In the meantime, while you’re looking for a new job, you can stay at my brother’s place and help him out. It all works out.”
Except it isn’t working.
I roll on top of the bed, propping myself up on my elbows and letting my feet sway in the air. “You know, you didn’t tell me your brother was…”
“A little obsessive-compulsive?” Gemma finishes. “Fussy? A control freak?”
I was going to say hot.
“Sorry about that, but as long as you follow all his instructions and stick to routines, you’ll be fine.”
“Really?”
“Oh, and speaking about my brother, I forgot to mention something else.”
That he’s hot?
“His wedding anniversary is coming up in a few days,” Gemma informs me. “I know she’s gone, but he still misses her. Each time that date rolls in, he just becomes this big mess.”
“And you couldn’t just wait until that was over, could you?”
She ignores me. “Anyway, try not to let him drink too much, will you?”
Chapter 5
Don’t let Ben drink too much, she said.
What? Was I supposed to hide his bottle of whiskey? Empty its contents into the toilet and replace it with water? Take the glass away from him?
I didn’t do any of that, though, which is why Ben is now all red in the face, hunched over the dining table and looking like he’s ready to keel over.
Yup. I can safely say he’s had too much to drink.
Sorry, Gemma.
“What are you staring at?” he asks as he pours himself another glass of whiskey, his voice slurred.
“Nothing,” I say as I go over to the fridge to get a glass of water.
“Is that payback for yesterday?”
I go still. I’d hoped he would never bring up what happened yesterday. Aren’t drunks supposed to have a bad memory? Then again, come to think of it, it’s usually the sober who don’t remember things they’ve said and done while drunk. Drunks remember everything, even the things that happened during their childhood.
“I’m sorry I don’t look as good.”
I blush. Is he saying I looked good yesterday when I was naked in the tub? How much did he see?
I glance at him. What does he mean he doesn’t look as good? True, he’s not as hot as he usually is. But he’s still hot.
I shake my head as I pour myself a glass of water. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Are you sure you’re a baker?” he asks.
“A pastry chef,” I correct, taking a sip from my glass.
“You don’t look like one.”
I frown. Is that an insult?
“You look like someone I’ve seen in a magazine before.”
At once, my mind races. Have I ever been featured in a magazine before? No. I don’t think so. He’s probably confusing me with someone else. I wonder what magazine he’s referring to.
“Nope, not me,” I tell him.
“Some chick in a bikini.”
I almost spit out the water in my mouth. Definitely not me.
“I like your hair,” he adds.
What? My blond hair that can’t decide if it’s straight or curly and never behaves the way I want it to?
“And your lips, and your…”
“All right. That’s enough.” I set my glass down and go over to Ben, taking his still half-filled glass away. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
As much as I’d like to hear more, compliments from a drunk are just babble.
“I have?” He arches an eyebrow at me.
“Yes.”
I bring the bottle and glass to the kitchen, putting the cap back on the bottle and then throwing the contents of the glass into the sink.
“Hey,” Ben complains. “That’s expensive stuff.”
“Well, it’s stuff that will kill you if you drink too much, and you’ve clearly had more than enough. What do you think your daughter will say when she sees you?”
For a moment, he’s silent. Then he laughs.
I’m confused. What’s so funny?
“You sound just like Gemma,” he says.
Oh, I do?
I place my hands on my hips. “Nope. Actually, it’s the voice of your conscience.”
“You look like her, too.”
“And you look like you’re about to pass out.” I approach him, grabbing his arm. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed so Lily doesn’t have to stumble over you in the morning.”
“Your bed or mine?”
I freeze. Seriously?
“Very funny.” I place his arm around my neck and my arm around his waist. “You know, it would be nice if you had a little more of this sense of humor when you’re sober.” I start walking, groaning under his weight. “And maybe if you talked a little more.”
“Are you saying you don’t like me?” Ben asks.
“I’m saying you could be less serious when you’re sober.”
“And when I’m drunk?”
“Well, you could be less drunk. And maybe less heavy.”
He laughs, and just like that, he gets even heavier, causing me to lose my balance so that both of us to stumble in the hall.
“Ouch!” I exclaim as my head hits the floor.
“Sorry,” he mumbles as he tries to get up, only to land on top of me, my breasts crushed beneath his chest.
“You better not be doing this on purpose,” I mutter.
“What?”
He manages to lift his head, and as he looks down at me, his blue eyes gazing into my brown ones, I become more aware of our situation.
And our positions.
He’s right on top of me, one of his legs between mine, his knee mere inches from my sex that is starting to get damp. His face
is also just an inch away, his mouth so close to mine that I can smell the alcohol on his breath and feel its warmth.
I know he’s the one who’s drunk, but I’m pretty sure at this moment I’m the one who is more dazed. My face is certainly redder.
Shit.
In the next instant, the gap is closed and his mouth is descending on mine. In a flash, warmth turns to heat that swirls through my veins and causes my skin to prickle. My breasts and my sex begin to swell. I taste the bitterness of the alcohol, but I don’t care. I lift my head to kiss him and arch up against him.
Some of the most perfect desserts are combinations of sugar and alcohol. And right now, Ben is one of them.
Suddenly, though, he pulls away, his head dropping beside mine as his body collapses. And before I can even fathom what is going on, I hear a single word escape his lips.
A name.
“Cathy.”
He says no more and moves no more.
“Ben?”
I hear a snore in response.
Great. Just great.
I push him off me just enough so I can crawl out from under him. I sit against a wall and sigh.
Cathy, huh? That must be the name of his wife. And I’m pretty sure that’s who the kiss was for.
Even so, I can’t help but feel excited. My heart is still pounding, my cheeks are still flushed, and my knees are still weak from the brief, unexpected contact. I know it was only our lips that touched, but I can feel my whole body buzzing, burning.
How can I be so worked up over a kiss that wasn’t meant for me, a kiss I never should have allowed Ben to give me?
I beat my head against the wall and shake my head. “Oh, Michelle, you are so stupid.”
Chapter 6
“Did I do anything stupid last night?” Ben asks over coffee the next morning.
I mix my coffee with a teaspoon. “You mean apart from getting yourself dead drunk and forcing me to drag you feet first down the hall to throw you on your bed?”
“Ah. That explains why my head hurts.”
“That could just be a hangover.” I glance at him. “Or maybe it’s from when you hit the table leg in the hallway.”
“Ouch.”
“What? Did you think I was capable of scooping you in my arms and setting you down gently on the bed?”
Ben gives me a puzzled look. “I thought you worked out?”
I sigh, raising my hands. “Let me make it clear. I do not work out. That was a misunderstanding.”
“I see.” He takes a sip of his coffee.
“And while I’ve done enough whisking, stirring, and kneading dough to give my arms a bit of muscle, I’ve only ever managed to carry a sack of flour before, and you…” I point to him with the spoon, “…are much heavier.”
“Sorry.” Ben finishes his coffee and sets down his empty mug on the counter and places his hand over mine. “Truly, I am.”
His touch is warmer than my coffee.
“Something just comes over me when I remember…”
“Cathy,” I finish. “I understand. No worries.”
“So, nothing else apart from those?”
I meet his gaze and draw a deep breath. “Nothing.”
“Good.” His hand leaves mine, and my heart continues beating.
Be still, my heart.
Ben walks to the living room and puts on his shoes.
“You’re going somewhere?” I ask curiously, mug in hand.
“Work.”
I glance at the calendar. “But it’s Saturday.”
“I work on some Saturdays. I have someone to meet today.”
“Oh.”
I’m not just disappointed because I wanted to spend the day with him. I’m disappointed because he should be spending more time with his daughter.
“But thank you for reminding me.” He stands up and takes out his wallet. “Gemma usually goes to the supermarket on Saturdays. Now that’s your job.” He hands me a few bills. “Just make sure you get everything Lily needs.”
“And your needs?” I ask.
“I take care of myself.” He grabs his laptop bag from the coffee table. “You can buy some of the stuff you need, too.”
I count the money. It’s about two hundred dollars. What?
I set my mug down and walk over to him. “This is—”
Ben turns around, bag slung over his shoulder. “Oh, you don’t have a car, right?”
I shake my head. “No.”
I sold my car to help Noah start his restaurant.
“But you can drive?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He grabs the keys on the table near the door and throws them at me. “There’s another car in the parking lot. Gemma drove it sometimes. The car seat should be installed there.”
I look at the keys, nodding.
“Go straight to the supermarket and straight back home,” he instructs, one hand on the door knob. “And please don’t buy Lily candies. I threw away the last bag Gemma bought.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t forget the receipt.”
“I won’t.”
“Bye.” He leaves, closing the door behind him.
For a moment, I just stand there, expecting Ben to open the door and give me another order, but he doesn’t. I go back to the kitchen to finish my coffee and put the grocery money on the fridge door.
So, Lily and I are going to have our first outing.
Chapter 7
The supermarket is one of my favorite places in the world. For me, it’s like a big pantry with everything I need to whip up the most amazing desserts.
When I was a kid, my mother and I would go through every aisle just so she could push me on the cart for a little bit longer. I loved this, mostly because it meant more time we could spend outside of our tiny apartment. We browsed supermarkets so much in my childhood that eventually I became intimately familiar with what products each location had to offer, and, in turn, what ingredients I could use in making desserts. What started out as a hobby soon became a passion.
Now, supermarkets, like my desserts, remind me of my mom.
I push Lily on the cart, stopping by every aisle. It’s the only day of the week Lily’s allowed out of the house, I think, and Ben asked us to go straight home afterward. We might as well take our time. Plus, I did miss shopping for just myself and not for the restaurant.
Of course, I’m not just shopping for myself this time. I’m mostly shopping for Lily, but I’m picking up some extras along the way – chocolate chips, cream, gelatin, caster sugar. I know Ben doesn’t like Lily eating candies, but everyone needs something sweet in their life.
As I’m getting some flour, I hear someone shout behind me.
“Lily!”
I turn my head to see a woman with short, brown hair in an oversized beaded shirt and leggings. I’m confused.
Do I know this woman?
“Lily,” she repeats as she comes closer. “It is Lily, isn’t it?”
Right. It’s Lily she knows, not me.
Lily, however, just stares at her then gives me a questioning look.
“Sorry.” I look at the woman, hands on my cart, ready to steer away. “But I don’t think we’ve seen you before.”
“Oh. Right. I’m Donna Pearson.” She offers her hand. “I was a friend of Cathy’s.”
Cathy’s?
“You know who Cathy is? She…”
“Was Lily’s mother,” I say as I shake her hand. “I know. How do you know this is Lily?”
“Oh, I saw her picture on Facebook. On Gemma’s account.”
Now I understand.
“Besides…” Donna bends over to take a closer look at Lily. “She looks just like her mother.”
“She does?”
I know she must have the same red hair, but I haven’t seen a picture of Cathy – come to think of it, there aren’t any in the house – so I don’t really know.
Donna nods. “Same hair, same eyes…”
&nbs
p; “Eyes? But hers are blue like…”
“They’re more grayish, but I was talking about the shape of her eyes and her long lashes. Plus, she’s got the same nose, and even the same pretty mouth.” Donna shakes her head. “Poor girl. Now I understand why Ben doesn’t spend so much time with her.”
I glance at Lily. “What do you mean?”
And how did she know Ben doesn’t spend a lot of time with Lily?
“Because she reminds him of her mother, of course.” Donna pats Lily’s head. “But don’t worry, dear. I’m sure he’ll get over it. Of course it’s been over three years, but some people take longer to heal than others, and I find that it’s usually true for men. They keep things in instead of letting them out, so it’s harder for them to forget.”
That I know to be true. Well, not from my experience with Noah. He’s probably forgotten me by now. But my Dad – he’s still mourning for Mom.
“Well, anyway, I’m glad to have finally met you, which I think is really lucky since I’m only in town for a few days.” Donna smiles at Lily then looks at me. “What did you say your name was?”
“Michelle,” I inform her, realizing I haven’t given it.
“Michelle,” Donna repeats, nodding. “Take care of Lily, and the two of you have fun now, okay?” She waves as she goes back to her cart.
“You, too,” I tell her.
“Oh, and Lily can have this.” Donna takes the crocheted butterfly keychain off from the zipper of her purse and hands it to Lily. “Cathy made this for me when we were in college, but you can have it. Something tells me you should.”
“Butterfly!” Lily exclaims as she puts the keychain on her palm, her eyes wide. “Pretty.”
“It is,” Donna agrees, smiling.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I’m sure Cathy would be happy.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. She was always unpredictable. Even her death was.” Donna swallows. “But she was always amazing. Anyway, I should go. Bye.”
I watch her turn the corner at the end of the aisle, no doubt in a rush to be out of sight so Lily and I wouldn't see her tears. I can tell she and Cathy were really close.
As I look at the butterfly Lily is still playing with, I sigh. Now I’m really curious what kind of woman Cathy was. I wish I at least knew what she looked like.
