Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
Louise
Blinking awake, I peer blearily around in the gray tinged dawn of Zach’s bedroom.
I’m burrowed beneath the comforter, sprawled like a starfish, and I can only imagine what kind of rats nest my hair is going to be when I climb out of bed.
My body aches in the best way, and my belly does a little swoosh at the memory of last night. Of Zach chasing me up the stairs, fucking me at the top of them. Of everything after that.
I almost said something I couldn’t take back last night.
It was on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to say it.
Part of me still does.
Zach had insisted we take a shower together afterward, murmuring in my ear that aftercare is just as important.
If I can receive Zach level of aftercare for the rest of my life, I’m all for it. I one hundred percent agree that aftercare is just as important as the act of sex itself.
Laying across his chest after our shower and a little snack he’d insisted I eat, I’d almost said it.
But that’s crazy, right? I told myself last night it was just the endorphins and emotional upheaval of the moment making me feel like that.
Only now, in the quiet gray of the morning, I admit it wasn’t just that. I do feel it.
Like, with my whole damn chest, do I feel it.
I know just by the temperature of the bed next to me and the stillness of the room that I’m alone. The door is cracked open, and I can smell bacon being fried. My stomach growls.
My bladder is screaming at me. Sighing, I push the comforter off, shivering at the slight chill in the room.
Climbing out of the bed, I pull on the same navy blue Petoskey Fire Department t-shirt from last night, the hem hitting high on my thighs. I cringe at the thought of putting on my panties from last night, so, I don’t. I also forego pants. He’ll like that.
Rifling through Zach’s dresser drawer, I find a pair of tall tube socks and pull them on my chilled toes, the socks coming up to my knees. I pad out of the bedroom door to the bathroom, admiring Zach’s naked back where he stands at the stove before my bladder reminds me I have to pee now.
After relieving myself, I wash my hands and make a face at the absolute mess that is my hair.
Sleeping on wet hair is never a good idea, nor had I braided it like I usually do to contain the tresses.
Combing through it with my fingers, I smooth it the best I can and then loop it into a loose braid over my shoulder. It’ll have to do.
Exiting the bathroom, I join Zach in the kitchen. He glances at me over one of those broad, muscular shoulders, shooting me a lopsided smile, and I can’t help but swoon a little.
He’s just so unfairly handsome.
There’s no way this man wants me, right?
I know he does… obviously. So why am I still skeptical?
Whyyyy do I still feel like I’m waiting for that other shoe to drop, like always?
He’d said last night that I was a dream that he didn’t have the right to want to keep once he woke up… but maybe I’m the one that’s dreaming? There’s just no way that I’ve fallen for him this fast—and trust me, I know all about falling fast.
It’s a talent, truly.
“Good morning, my beautiful girl,” he says, wrapping one arm around my shoulders when I step up close to him. He flips the bacon in the pan with a pair of tongs in his other hand.
I encircle his waist with my arms, resting my head on his chest and inhaling deeply. Zach and bacon. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and I close my eyes. God, why do I love that so much? I never want this to end. Can this please never end?
“I don’t think I said it last night, but I really like seeing you in my shirts.”
Tipping my head back, I smile up at him. “I like wearing your shirts.”
His hand moves from my shoulder to my ass, sliding the hem of the shirt up until he can grab a handful of my left cheek. He smooths his palm over it, then breathes, “No panties, Princess? Naughty.”
I shrug. “Figured you’d like it.”
“I like you.”
My heart trips inside my chest, skipping a beat before thundering back to life.
Be cool, Lou. Jesus be cool.
Squeezing tighter around his middle, I whisper, “I like you, more.”
His palm grabs hold again, his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass cheek. “That’s debatable.”
I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss his mouth. “I’ll give you the next forty to fifty years to argue about it.”
Holding my breath for his response to my boldness, my heart cracks open wide when he smiles against my mouth. “Deal.”
Zach’s head pops up when we hear the sound of a car door closing, and then footsteps on the porch steps. He leans away, both of us peering into the living room when a knock sounds on the door.
Following him into the living room, I’m aware I’m naked except for an oversized T-shirt and a pair of knee socks, and he’s in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that are sitting indecently low on his hips. One swift tug and he’d be naked, too.
He opens the door and I get a glimpse of blond hair and a gold mini van in the driveway. Blue eyes the same shade as their daughters meet mine. Those eyes quickly take in my state of undress, as well as his.
Oh, shit.
“Brittanee? What are you doing here?” he asks, side stepping to block her view, but it’s too late.
“Nice, Zach.” Then, ignoring his question, she asks her own. “Where is Abigail?”
“Not here,” he growls, bracing one hand on the door frame and the other on the edge of the door. “You can’t just show up like this.”
“I can when my daughter texts me that she’s started her period, and that you had your new girlfriend come over and help her instead of calling me,” she snaps. “What the hell, Zach?”
I back away from the living room, into the kitchen and out of view.
“No, Brittanee, you can’t,” I hear Zach snap back, exasperation heavy in his tone. “And that’s not what this is.”
Well, shit. Okayyy. That’s good to know. My heart does this godawful nosedive into the lowest part of my stomach.
“You can’t just keep showing up here. All communication is supposed to go through the lawyers until this hearing is done, you know that. I’m trying to be civil through all this, dammit, but you’re not making it easy.” I hear him sigh heavily. “How did Abigail even get your number?”
Straining my ears, I hear his ex say, “I messaged her on Facebook.”
“What the fuck do you mean you messaged her on Facebook? Abigail doesn’t have a fucking Facebook account. She’s twelve!” Zach snarls, and my stomach twists. Oh god.
“Well, clearly you’re not paying close enough attention to our daughter and spending too much time shacked up with your new slut, because she certainly does have a Facebook.
And a Snapchat,” the woman says, her tone harsh.
After a beat of silence, she laughs, but it’s an ugly sound.
“Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting your sleepover.
So is this why the girls haven’t been home when I stop by?
You’re shipping them off to someone else so you can get your dick wet? ”
There’s a shuffling of feet and bodies, and then the door slams. Zach’s voice is muffled from through the door as he responds to her.
Anxiety and shame wash through me, despite knowing I haven’t done anything wrong.
Except… I am, aren’t I?
I’m sleeping with a married man.
And yes, I realize that they’re separated and have been for a long time. Their divorce is pending. The final hearing is just a few weeks away.
But… at the end of the day, he’s still married.
Also, she’s not wrong. The girls have been spending a lot of time at Lydia’s to give us alone time. Guilt eats up my insides, making my head spin and my ears ring. Fuck.
Oh God, am I a homewrecker?
No, they separated long before I met him. Long before we ever slept together.
At least… that’s what he told me. What if the timeline he gave me isn’t what really happened?
I don’t really know how long they’ve been separated.
I just know what I’ve been told, what I’ve been led to guess about…
Am I really this na?ve? Blindly trusting this guy to be honest about the failure of his marriage? Aren’t I smarter than this?
Burying my face in my hands, I lean my hips against the counter and take long, deep breaths in. No. I refuse to believe that Zach lied about any of it. He didn’t. I would know in my gut if he was lying.
This is real. This is real.
This is real.
Right?