by Whitley Cox
Kimmy shrugged, finished whatever the hell she was doing on her phone and then stood up. “Pretty easy, Mr. Stark. I wasn’t able to get all the marker off Aria, but I got a fair bit. I didn’t want to hurt her by rubbing too much. Google says to just give it time and the rest will wash off eventually.”
He breathed out a full exhale. “Thanks, Kimmy. Can I e-transfer you the money? I don’t have any cash right now.”
She smiled. “Sure thing, Mr. Stark. I’m going to head home now. My dad is walking to meet me.”
He stood again and walked her to the door. Her father was already in view down the street. Even though it was still light out and a totally safe neighborhood, he and Kimmy’s dad had set up this plan in the wintertime when it got dark early, and it just sort of stuck.
She waved goodbye to him again and took off toward her dad. Atlas waved at Hank before shutting the door, his back hitting it and his eyes shutting. Sure, his head was clear, but his heart was doing all kinds of fucked-up things now.
Four big feelings were duking it out, and he could hardly make heads or tails of any of them. On one hand, he felt like his feelings for Tessa were a betrayal to Samantha. But he also felt like they were a bit of a betrayal to Marie, too. Because even though they’d never met, he’d had more “conversations” with her than he had Tessa. He knew more about Marie (kind of) than he did Tessa.
Did he have feelings for Marie?
Yeah, he kind of did.
Did he have feelings for Tessa?
Yeah, he definitely did.
And then there was the whole Aria thing. He felt like the shittiest father of the year the majority of the time he was with her and even more so when he wasn’t. He could only imagine how he was probably fucking up life for Cecily. Probably not as much as it would have been, but he was no prize of a parent either.
And now that he’d gone and had sex with Aria’s therapist, could he continue to take her to Tessa? Was it now a conflict of interest because he was interested in his daughter’s therapist?
He released a slow breath at the same time he whispered, “Fuck.”
What was he going to do?
His phone pinging and vibrating on the glass coffee table had his eyes opening and his feet on the stairs. He snatched it off the table and began scrolling through the messages as he made his way into the kitchen to pour himself a bourbon. There was a new message from Marie.
Thanks for the chat last night. That really helped. Called a lawyer this morning, and they have time to meet with me on Friday. They think I have a case.
She’d called him last night after her confrontation with Carlyle and Blaire, he’d been tempted to go over there, punch the shit out of Carlyle and steal the dog back himself. The cops were already on Marie’s side, and Atlas knew some of the best defense attorneys in the city. He didn’t need to worry. But he hadn’t because, well, it wasn’t his battle to fight, and as much as he was in Marie’s corner and would help her out where he could, he had two children he had to worry about and a job he wanted to go back to.
He texted her back as he sipped his drink and headed back to the living room. What lawyer did you end up going with?
Richelle LaRue. You said she’s good, right?
A slow smile spread across his mouth. Oh, she was good all right. Good in the courtroom, and Liam could attest to her talents elsewhere as well. Not that Liam ever spoke about his elusive Wednesday-night fuck buddy.
She’s a great attorney. Good choice.
Why did he feel like he’d cheated on Marie with Tessa? He and Marie were nothing but … friends? If you could even call them that, and yet he felt as though he’d somehow betrayed her. Should he tell her he slept with someone? They didn’t even know each other’s first names, and he didn’t know what she did for a living. This whole thing was absurd. But absurd or not, those fucked-up feelings were there.
I’m thinking of getting another tattoo to remember Forest. Just in case I don’t get him back.
She had a tattoo? Of what? Where?
Now he was thinking about Tessa’s tattoo. It was small and subtle on the inside of her wrist and down the back of her forearm. Maybe three inches long, two lines. He hadn’t been able to make out the words, but by the way it was scrawled, he was guessing they were the words of someone important.
You’ll get him back, he replied. Though he actually hated to give false hope, because there was a chance that she might actually not get him back or she’d have to settle for shared custody. Shared custody of pets did happen—he’d facilitated the agreements himself.
You have other tattoos? Would she show him her other tattoos? Take a picture of just that patch of skin?
I do.
Oh, she was playing coy now. Did he have to offer her up something in return to see what kind of ink she was sporting?
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.
He didn’t have any tattoos, but his daughter’s earlier foible with the Sharpies gave him an idea. Setting his drink and phone down, he got up and grabbed a black marker from the counter and drew a small, long-necked dinosaur on the top of his thigh right over his knee. He was a terrible artist. Even stick men looked more like just sticks, but he had mastered the long-necked dinosaur. Too bad Aria preferred the Triceratops. Because of course she did.
He snapped a picture of his dinosaur and sent it to her, chuckling at himself as he sipped his bourbon.
Cute “tattoo.” Did you just get that? she messaged back.
Yeah, ink’s still fresh. Hurt like a bitch.
She sent him a crying-laughing emoji followed by an image of her tattoo.
I Love you, kiddo
~Dad
It’s for my dad. It was the message he wrote to me in the last birthday card I received from him before he died.
Atlas’s glass fell from his hand, the rest of the bourbon spilling onto his lap and the chair. But he didn’t care. He stared unblinking at the tattoo on the screen.
He’d seen that tattoo before.
Earlier that night, in fact.
That tattoo belonged to Tessa.
12
Should she call him?
Was he ghosting her?
She’d sent him a picture of her tattoo, followed by a few other text messages asking him if everything was all right and where did he go, but she’d only received silence in return.
And that was yesterday.
She was going nuts wondering what the hell happened to David. Was he anti-tattoo?
No, that couldn’t be it. He didn’t seem anti-tattoo, particularly because he joked about having his own and was so interested in seeing hers.
Was she overthinking things and he’d simply fallen asleep or had an emergency with his kids?
Yeah, that had to be it. They’d taken their “relationship” from texting to a few phone conversations now, and although she wouldn’t call herself the best judge of character, given her choice of fiancés, she could tell he wasn’t the kind of guy who would ghost her.
She hoped.
She hadn’t resorted to calling him yet though. That just seemed desperate. She kept herself busy heading into work early to clean the tables, toys and art supplies. Her first client had called in sick, so she didn’t have anybody coming in until ten, and that was absolutely fine by her.
Singing along with the radio, she barely heard her phone ping and vibrate on her desk. Her skirts swished around her ankles as she went to retrieve it, the sight of her desk bringing back pleasant and tingly memories from last night. Normally, she never wore a skirt when she rode her bike to work, but yesterday she decided to pack her skirt and change at work. And she was now very glad she did. If they’d had time to stop and remove her pants, maybe they would have stopped altogether—or at least hesitated and looked for a condom.
She shook her head and mumbled “stupid, stupid” as she brought up her messages. She was thirty-five freaking years old. She should know better than to have sex without a condom. Should know, at t
he very least, to check with her partner for his … history.
Though it wasn’t Atlas’s history they had to worry about. It was hers. Or more importantly, Carlyle’s and Blaire’s.
Her heart thumped hard in her chest when she realized the message was from David. Hey, sorry about last night. Emergency with the kids. What are you up to today?
She knew he wasn’t a ghosting ass. Just a busy single father with two kids to tend to. Her mouth split into a smile as she texted him back. First client of the day canceled, so I’m just at work cleaning. Hope the emergency with the kids wasn’t too serious.
She waited for his reply, but it didn’t come.
Exhaling through her nose, she went back to her cleaning, but she was only on her hands and knees for a moment before her phone on her desk began to ring.
Sandals slapping against the tile, she moguled around the small table and chairs. The caller ID said it was a private number—Carlyle? Blaire? Bracing herself for a showdown she held her breath and answered it on the fifth ring. “Hello?” she said, releasing her breath in a long, loud woosh.
“Tessa?”
David?
“David?”
“It’s Atlas. Do you have any time today for Aria? We had a rough night and I … I think she needs somebody besides me to talk to.”
Scratching her head, she blinked away her confusion at how similar Atlas’s voice was to David’s—must just be a coincidence. Two deep, gravelly voiced men who could make her toes curl by just saying her name, what were the odds? She turned to face the windows and the street below. “Oh, uh … sorry. You sound an awful lot like another friend of mine. As a matter of fact, I had a cancellation for nine o’clock if you guys can get here in half an hour?”
“We will leave right now. Thank you.” He sounded chipper-ish, but there was also some weird undertone to his voice as well. One she couldn’t put her finger on and that unnerved her in a most unsettling way. Was he having second thoughts about last night? Was he upset that he now had to go and get tested to see if Carlyle or Blaire had given them both chlamydia or something?
“Okay,” she said, trying not to read too much into their short conversation. “See you shortly.”
“Yes. And Tessa?”
She swallowed. “Yeah?”
“I don’t regret last night.” Then he hung up, and the butterflies in her belly all burst out of their cocoons at once and began to flutter around in a cosmic frenzy.
She didn’t regret last night either.
Up the stairs Atlas and Aria climbed, the nerves inside of him doubling the closer to the door they got. He hated the thought of deceiving Tessa the way he was, but he couldn’t tell her on the phone that he knew who she really was. In person was the only way for any of this to work.
But what were the fucking chances?
The woman who had randomly texted him just over a week ago, ranting and raving at her ex who had cheated on her and stole her dog, was the same woman who he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since the moment he saw her. In fact, he hadn’t been able to get either woman out of his head. Turns out they were the same woman.
It explained so much though. She mentioned last night that her ex had just broken up with her, and the fizzy testiness with which she challenged him just screamed “sick of men and their bullshit.” Understandably so.
But now, it was all different. Tessa was Marie and Marie was Tessa. Tessa Marie Copeland. And he was having a hard time getting her out from under his skin, no matter how much he knew he had no time for her to be there. He’d blocked his number when he called her that morning, because the woman was no fool, so she’d probably be able to put two and two together that his number and David’s number were one of the same. Up until now though, he’d been communicating via email with Tessa with anything regarding Aria, including booking her appointments and receiving her status updates so the fact that she hadn’t recognized his number as David’s number before now also made sense.
“We’re here, Daddy,” Aria said, releasing his hand and opening the door. “Tessa!”
“Aria?” Tessa’s head poked out from around the corner where the bathroom was located. “Just doing some cleaning. Almost done.”
The sink ran, then the light flicked off, and there she emerged, all flaxen-haired, blue-eyed and with another one of those sexy, flowy skirts down to her ankles. He’d never been a fan of those hippie skirts until he saw Tessa wearing them. Now he thought they were pretty damn hot. Particularly with how low it rode along her hips, revealing the smallest sliver of skin at her belly when she walked.
Her eyes lasered in on his, but her smile was for Aria. “Are you ready to do some more art?”
Aria nodded. “Can we do a puppet show today? Maybe make the puppets?”
“That sounds like a spectacular plan. You know where all the supplies are. Go get what you need, and I’ll come join you in a moment.”
Aria nodded again, then skipped off toward the drawers and bins of labeled supplies, calling out a half-assed, “Bye, Daddy,” without bothering to turn around.
He took a step toward Tessa, inhaling that delicious, unique scent of hers. He wanted to touch her, run his knuckle down her cheek, kiss her neck, but he wouldn’t. Not with Aria right there.
“How are you?” he asked, keeping his voice just above a whisper.
Her serene smile made his insides twist. “I’m well, thank you.”
You have to tell her the truth NOW!
He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I have to show you something. And before you say anything, please know that I only found out last night. I haven’t been keeping this from you, I swear.”
Her brows furrowed and her lips twisted. “Okay … ”
He’d worn shorts on purpose, but even still, they were long enough to hide the Sharpie on his thigh. With a deep breath, he lifted his leg and planted his foot on a child-size chair. “Notice anything?” he asked, pulling his shorts up enough to show off the dinosaur above his knee.
She squinted for a moment, but then her eyes shot wide open, and her jaw went slack. Her hand clasped her mouth, smothering the gasp. “Oh my God.”
Eyes as blue as the sky outside flitted back and forth between his face and his knee, the look of shock still very apparent. “You’re … you’re … ”
“Atlas David Stark, yes. And you’re Tessa Marie Copeland?”
She nodded. “We’ve been … ”
“Yes.”
“And then last night we … ”
“Yes.”
“And all this time we’ve been the same … ”
“Yes.”
“You had no idea?” Her expression turned skeptical.
He lifted a brow. “Did you?”
She hung her head. “No. Oh my God.”
He shrugged and put his foot back down on the floor. “At least I can stop feeling guilty about developing feelings for two women at the same time.” The weight of the last twelve hours made the corners of his mouth tough to lift, but he tried his best.
Her laugh was breathy. “Would you believe I was having the exact same feeling?”
This time he didn’t have to work at making his mouth form a smile. It happened naturally.
“Tessa, come on!” Aria pleaded from the green triangle table. Kimmy had managed to get most of the permanent marker off his daughter, but even from a distance, he could still see streaks up her arms and a few on her neck. She looked like some sort of zebra-human scientific experiment abomination.
“I’ll be there in one minute,” Tessa said, taking a step back from him.
“No, ten minutes,” Aria said impatiently.
“She has no concept of time,” he murmured with a chuckle. “Makes bedtime easy.”
Tessa’s laugh was soft, but her smile made his insides quake with the need to touch her. Making sure Aria’s head was down as she worked on her puppet, he reached for her hand. “I want to help you get Forest back. Now that I know it’s you, I want
to help. Cecily is with the nanny. I’m going to head over to my firm now and speak with another lawyer over there.”
“B-but what about Richelle? I don’t want to dismiss her after she agreed to take my case. That doesn’t seem right.”
“We’ll work with her too.”
She shook her head and pulled her hand from his. “I can’t afford one lawyer, let alone three. Thank you for the offer, but I’ll see what Richelle can do for me.” She went to head to Aria, but he reached for her hand again and pulled her back toward him. Even that small gulf of space between them was too much for him now. She’d cast a spell on him, and now that he knew Tessa and Marie were one and the same, he was drawn to her more than ever.
“Richelle and Liam both owe me favors. We’re going to get you your dog back, I promise.” He knew better than to make those kinds of promises, so why was he making them now?
She batted long, dark lashes at him, her chin tilted up almost in defiance. “And what favor do I owe you?” The sparkle in her eye made him want to crush his mouth to hers and have an encore of last night. The child in the corner of the room had him refraining from his carnal inclinations and instead laying on the charm. He bent his head at the same time his thumb brushed over the back of her hand. “Come by the house tonight.”
Her eyes flared.
Shit. Was he laying it on too thick? Did she think he actually expected her to pay him for his legal services with sex? He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a heavy exhale. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t expect you to pay me for legal counsel with … ” The fingers of his free hand raked through his blond hair, and he scratched the back of his neck. “You know what I mean, right? I mean I want to start something with you … you got that, right?”
Those lips he was dying to kiss smiled demurely. “Yes, I got that.”
“I’m really crappy at this, you know. It’s been a long fucking time since I dated anybody, since I courted or wooed or whatever the fuck you want to call it. I don’t even know if it’s done the same way now, what with all the fucking apps and shit.”
