Chapter 13
Thirteen
Will
The house is quiet, too quiet. I’ve never minded the silence, but tonight, it’s giving me too much time to think about that kiss. It’s been a week since Amanda pressed her lips to mine, and she’s all I’ve been able to think about.
If I’m not thinking about kissing her again, I’m thinking about how to tell my daughter that I kissed her, which leads to thinking about the kiss. It’s a vicious cycle. Nothing says I have to tell her, but if she finds out, I could lose her again, and that’s out of the question.
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, and I don’t know where to go from here.
As if my mind willed it, my phone rings, and I see Amanda’s name. “Hello.”
“Hey,” she greets softly. “Are you home? I’m leaving Bellamy and Reid’s, and I wanted to see if I could stop by and apologize.”
“Apologize?” I ask. I can hear the hesitation in her tone, and if I’m not mistaken, a little bit of worry and regret.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “For my actions last weekend.”
“I don’t need your apology,” I say, my tone coming out rougher than intended. It pisses me off that she wants to apologize, even though I know it never should have happened. It might have been a one-time thing, but it meant something to me.
Did it not to her?
Probably not. I’m just her best friend’s dad. I was there. Convenient.
Anger and disappointment roll through me, but I swallow them both down.
“Please don’t be mad at me,” she says, her voice cracking.
My heart clenches. “How close are you?” I ask her.
“I’m almost to your house now.”
“I’ll open the garage door. Pull in.”
“What? Why?”
“Because everyone lives in this neighborhood, Mandy. Are you okay with them seeing you here?” I have no issue with it. I’ve already decided I need to come clean as soon as I figure out how.
“Oh. Okay,” she replies.
“I’ll meet you out there.” I’m already rushing barefoot out to the garage to open the door. Her SUV slows down, turns into the driveway, and she pulls right in. I quickly hit the button to close the door, and then I’m moving toward her car to greet them.
I tug open Amanda’s door, and the urge to bend my head and kiss her lips is strong, but I fight it. Instead, I move to the back door for Mia. She grins when she sees me, holding her arms out for me to take her. Quickly, I unbuckle her seat and lift her from it.
“Let’s get you ladies inside,” I say. With Mia in my arms and my hand on the small of Amanda’s back, I guide her into my house.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask once we’re inside.
“No, thank you,” Amanda answers politely.
“What about this little lady? Does she need anything?” I ask, bouncing Mia in my arms, making her laugh.
I glance at Amanda, and she’s got a soft smile pulling at her lips as she watches us. “No,” she finally answers.
“Let’s sit.” I nod toward the living room, and she turns on her heel and leads us into the room. She sits on the couch, so I do the same, leaving a little space between us. I sit Mia in that small space, and she grins, using my arms to steady herself as she stands.
“Look at you. You’re going to be walking in no time,” I tell her as she reaches over and steadies her hand on Amanda’s shoulder. She’s still a little too far away, so Amanda scoots in, helping her. Mia squeals with delight as she reaches her mom and takes a couple of wobbly steps toward her.
Silence settles between us, and not the peaceful kind.
It’s charged with things we need to say but haven’t.
I’ve never been one to hide behind my choices, so I clear my throat and start us off.
“I don’t want, nor do I need, your apology.
” I keep my tone soft, almost tender, hoping like hell my earlier anger and frustration are nowhere to be seen.
“What I did was wrong,” Amanda replies, twisting her fingers together in her lap.
“Why?”
“What?” she asks, her brow furrowing.
Mia makes her way back to me and climbs onto my lap. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I cuddle her close, gently rubbing her back. “Why was it wrong, Mandy?” I ask her, my tone softer now, not wanting to disturb Mia. It’s late, and I’m sure close to, if not past, her bedtime.
“Bellamy is my best friend. Kissing you betrayed her.”
There it is. The safe answer. “Did it feel wrong?” I know I shouldn’t be pushing this, but I need to know if that kiss affected her as much as it did me.
I study her face, searching for what, I’m not sure, as my hand continues to gently rub Mia’s back.
Her body relaxes into me, and my heart melts for this little girl and her momma.
“No,” she whispers.
I know I shouldn’t push. I know I’m teetering on the edge of something that could unravel more than I’m prepared to handle.
But I need to know. I need to know if that moment wrecked her the way it wrecked me.
If she’s been replaying it in quiet rooms. If it lingers on her lips the way it lingers on mine.
Her gaze drops to Mia, then lifts back to me. The room is so quiet I can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator, the steady rhythm of Mia’s breathing against my neck.
I hold steady, my eyes never leaving hers. Amanda’s composure cracks. I can see it in the way her shoulders fall, and her voice thins when she whispers, “No.”
The word lands between us, heavier than any apology. Mia shifts in my arms, sighing softly, and I know she’s asleep, unaware that the world around her has just tilted.
Amanda’s eyes shine, not with regret, but with something far more dangerous. Something honest. And suddenly, the silence doesn’t feel empty anymore. It feels like a new door quietly unlocking.
It feels like a new beginning.
I clear my throat and stand. “Let me put her in Coral’s bed. Then we can talk.” I wait for her approval. She nods and stands, as well, following me upstairs to my granddaughter’s bedroom.
Stepping into the dark room, I turn on the small lamp that serves as a nightlight. The glow is so dim that it doesn’t offer much, just enough light to see where I’m going. I place Mia into the bed and cover her tiny body. She sighs, and I smile.
“Goodnight, sweet girl,” I whisper, bending to kiss her forehead. Amanda steps next to me and does the same thing. “Light on or off?” I ask in a whisper.
“On,” she whispers back.
With a nod, I reach over and turn on the baby monitor. I’ll turn on the receiver in the living room when we get back downstairs. I have them all over my house for when Coral stays with me. Taking her hand in mine, I tangle our fingers together and guide her out of the room.
I love the feel of her soft hand in mine.
I can hear each breath she drags into her lungs, and then I think about the kiss, how soft her lips felt, and I need to taste them again.
I need to make sure I didn’t make it all up.
Instead of heading downstairs, I turn to step in front of her, and she takes a step back.
We repeat this dance a few times until her back hits the wall, just beside my bedroom door. We didn’t even make it to the stairs.
Letting go of her hand, I slide my arm around her waist and step closer. My other arm rises above me and presses against the wall, forcing me to leave a small amount of space between us, space I don’t want, but space I know that we need.
I tilt my head, and our eyes lock as she peers up at me.
My breathing matches hers, labored and intense.
I want to kiss her more than I need the oxygen I’m struggling to pull into my lungs.
Instead, I press my forehead against hers, feeling her hot breath, wishing I could kiss her.
I know she said she didn’t regret it, but she wanted to apologize, and I’ll never be the kind of man who takes what’s not his.
I want her to be mine.
In this moment, the only thing I see is a beautiful woman, whom I can’t stop thinking about. A woman my lips ache to cherish, and my hands tremble with the need to learn every curve of her body.
She’s just Mandy.
My Mandy. Not my daughter’s best friend.
She’s not off-limits. She’s not forbidden.
She’s just this incredible woman, who I’ve somehow let beneath the surface of who I am.
Without looking, my Mandy has burrowed herself inside my chest. For weeks, she’s been on my mind, and then last week, she was all I could think about.
One kiss.
That’s all it took for me to fall under her spell.
She said she didn’t regret it. She’s a grown woman.
She doesn’t need protecting from herself.
She doesn’t need saving from me. But she did apologize.
But that apology wasn’t about age or power or anything ugly.
It was about loyalty. About history. About my daughter.
About the life we both exist in outside this room.
And that matters.
“I’m not going to take something you’ll resent me for later,” I murmur, my voice rougher than I intend. Her fingers flex against my chest. Not pushing away. Not hesitating. Just there. Solid. Certain.
“I won’t,” she whispers.
Fuck. That quiet conviction almost undoes me.
All I can see is a woman who challenges me.
Who looks at me like she sees beyond the polished, responsible version of myself and into the parts I don’t show anyone.
The parts that want. The parts that burn.
I’ve been telling myself this was a phase.
A flicker of attraction sparked by proximity. It would pass.
Then she kissed me.
One kiss.
An invitation. One that I answered. When I pulled her closer and felt her melt into me like she’d been waiting for permission, something shifted. Something irreversible.
I haven’t been the same since.
I lift my hand before I can stop it and brush a strand of hair from her face. My knuckles graze her cheek. Her eyes flutter, just slightly.
She wants this.
Not because it’s forbidden.
Not because it’s reckless.
Because it’s me.
She wants me.