Chapter 11
NOLAN
11
The next morning, I wake with a dull headache. One of those headaches that hits you right behind the eyes. One of those headaches you get after a night spent ruminating on dumb decisions you made in a drunken haze.
Fuck.
It takes me several long moments trying to remember what day it is. Saturday. Today is Saturday, which means Stella has piano lessons and French tutoring.
I groan, pulling myself out of bed only to realize that I’m already late to pick my daughter up and get her ready for the day. I can’t be late. Stella can’t be late. Her piano recital is only a few weeks away.
On mornings like this, I’d kill for an extra hour of sleep. To be fair, Genevieve has offered to take Stella to her piano lessons on more than one occasion. But my little girl needs her quality time with me. I don’t want to let her down.
So as I drag myself to the bathroom, yawning my ass off, I remind myself that sleep can wait another decade or so. In the blink of an eye, Stella will be all grown up and she won’t need me in these ways anymore.
In a tired fog, I pull on some sweatpants. I walk across the yard to get Stella, bring her home, and help her get dressed for the day. She picks out her favorite cereal, and then I sit with her as she eats her breakfast.
As for me, one cup of coffee isn’t going to cut it this morning. I gulp down my first cup pretty quickly and get up from the table to pour myself a second. My eyes wander to the half-empty tequila bottle and the two shot glasses still sitting on the kitchen counter near the coffee machine. Immediately, I look away.
I don’t want to be reminded of last night. How I went shot for shot with Inez. How the sound of her laughter sent tingles straight to my cock. How I couldn’t get enough of her soft curves crushed against me. How I couldn’t get enough of her warm, full, tequila-flavored lips touching mine.
Fuck. Last night, I was not on my A-game. I made at least one or two bad choices. But there’s no excuse. I was weak.
I force my attention back to Stella. Only Stella. This time, I refuse to let my thoughts wander. Not to the gorgeous woman I kissed against my kitchen counter mere hours ago.
Between each spoonful, my little girl talks my ear off, telling me all about the TV show she and her grandma watched last night. How she beat Gen at Scrabble. And how they did a new tarot card reading together that said she’s going to be a famous musician some day.
I chuckle along to each story. Yet still, at the back of my mind, I’m a smidge worried that Stella will take after her mother’s and her grandmother’s hippie ways, that some day she’ll follow in her mom’s shoes and run off on me. But even if it hurts, I could never keep my baby girl from following whatever she’s passionate about.I’d never force her to stay.
Just like I couldn’t force Lilian to stay.
It sucks but the truth is, I wasn’t enough to make Lilian slow down or shift her priorities. Even after I gave up my hockey dreams to focus on our life together. Even after I settled for a future running the bar when I wanted to pursue my athletic career instead. Even after I gave the ‘happy family’ thing my very best shot. It still wasn’t enough to make my ex-wife stay. So why would I expect anyone else to choose me over their dreams? Inez included?
I stare across the table at my daughter with milk dribbling down her chin and twinkling excitement in her eyes as she speaks. Does it make me a shithead that I hope she grows up to be a little less like her mother?
Probably.
I shouldn’t slap labels around. There’s nothing wrong with the life of a wandering, free spirit. Obviously my former mother-in-law is a good, caring woman even with all her free-spirited philosophies.I guess it really was just Lilian’s selfishness at the heart of our problems.
And I don’t care what happened between me and her mom. Stella’s still the best thing to ever happen to me.
After Stella’s finished with her breakfast, I pour coffee number three of the morning into my travel mug. I walk my daughter out to the car.
“Bye, Gaga!” Stella waves as she climbs into the backseat.
“Have fun, pumpkin,” I hear Gen call back from the doorway of her camper.
When I make eye contact with her, she gives me a worried look. I glance away. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” I mumble to myself.
But in all reality, my mind is still a foggy mess. And as I absentmindedly jimmy and wiggle the door handle, I upend my travel mug and end up spilling hot brown liquid all over my white T-shirt.
“Goddammit!” I hiss and Stella gasps in concern from where she’s climbed into her car seat.
“Daddy!” She scrambles over to the window, pressing her face to the glass.
I hear footsteps stomping up behind me and then Genevieve is standing at my side, hand outstretched.
“I’ve got this covered,” I say dismissively, swiping at the ruined fabric of my shirt with my palm.
Gen just jerks her hand in my direction. “Keys, Nolan.”
“Everything’s under control, Gen. I’ve just got to change my shir—”
“Nolan Brighton. You need rest today. You are in no condition to be driving my grand-baby around town in the state you’re in. Take some time for yourself. I’ve got this covered.”
I glare at her. But she doesn’t back down. She means business.
“Fine,” I say with a grumble, dropping the keys into my ex-mother-in-law’s palm.
God. I hate counting on anyone for help.
My head ducks into the back of the car, checking Stella’s seatbelt, kissing her goodbye and telling her to kick butt at today’s lesson.She presses her little hand to my cheek and promises that she will.
I watch Genevieve pull out of the yard. Now that Stella’s gone, I head back inside so I can get my shit together.
I step into my en-suite bathroom and strip out of my coffee-soaked clothes. I stand under the hot spray of the shower and my mind wanders again. To Inez. To last night.
I don’t think I’ll ever be the goddamn same after last night.
My soapy hand finds my erection, slipping up and down the length as I relive that hot-as-fire kiss we shared. The way she touched me. The way she tasted. The sounds she made.
She was drunk. You took advantage of that. Have some fucking dignity, you dipshit.
Even still, the truth is, when I kissed Inez, I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to unbutton her jeans, pull them down around her ankles and slip my hand between her thighs to find out if she was wet for me. I wanted to bend her over the kitchen sink and plunge my cock inside her to experience her slippery pussy squeezing down on me.
I wanted to feel her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to hear her panting my name as I filled her so full of my release until the liquid came spilling down her thighs.
That’s what I wanted to do. So yeah, I definitely didn’t want to stop kissing her.
But I’m delusional to think that Inez would ever want a guy like me.
Shame grips my throat like a fist as I drop my forehead to the wet shower tile, muttering Inez’s name as I spray my release.
A moment later when I step out of the shower, I leave my delusional fantasy world behind me.
Nice guys don’t get the superstars. Single dads definitely don’t get the superstars.
Maybe one of my brothers could pull it off. Not Archer. That guy’s even more of a cranky asshole than I am. Ronan, maybe. Or Felix. They’re the charming ones and that’s how they both ended up with amazing women. Darius, he’s got money, so at least that compensates for his perpetual bad mood.
But me? No one’s ever considered me a pretty boy—shit—or a rich one.So, with Inez, I’m just plain out of my league here.
I’m not angry about where I’m at in life. But I am angry that I lost my head last night. I’m angry that for a few fleeting moments, I forgot who I was. That I did something to ruin the decent relationship that Inez and I do have.
She’s important to me. And I don’t want to fuck up the opportunity to keep her around.
I pull on a pair of sweatpants with a plain T-shirt. I find that Inez is now awake and wandering around the kitchen.
My feet halt in the doorway. The sight of her now turns me on in an instant, making me mad at myself all over again.
I need to get out of here before I make things worse.Because apparently, that's all I fucking do now.
Ignoring Inez, who’s standing with her back to me, wearing another one of my oversized T-shirts, I quietly pivot on my heel and make a beeline toward the front door.
But then she calls out to me. “Nolan?”
I sigh, my feet stopping. I turn—shoulders tense—to look at her.
The sight of her pretty face is a punch to the gut. That’s how gorgeous she is.
She holds out a steaming mug, biting her lip and giving me a tentative smile. “Coffee? It’ll help if you have a hangover like I do.”
I eyeball the coffee mug. If I stay and have coffee with her, we’ll be forced to discuss what happened last night. That’s not happening.
“Nah. I’m good,” I brush her off, quickly rushing out and slamming the front door.
Wow. I’m an asshole.
I burst into my front yard, sucking in a huge breath. But my relief is short-lived when I glance over at the bare patch of my front lawn.
Shit. No car.
It’s gonna be a bit difficult making my great escape on foot. For a second, I consider putting on my big boy pants and going back inside to have an adult conversation with Inez.
But when I glance back toward the house, I find her glaring at me through the living room window. She’s wearing an expression that tells me she thinks I’m acting like a fucking idiot.
She’s not wrong.
All I know is, I can’t be trusted in there with her right now. So I hustle around the side of the house and grab my old all-terrain bicycle from the shed.
And then, I take off like a bat out of hell, my demons chasing me down the winding mountain road.