Chapter Nineteen #2
Corbin takes Tate, Deanna, and the snake home while I finish out the last hour at the coffee shop alone. A few people come in for coffee to go, but the rush has died down. Normally, I like the steady hum of conversation and movement around me, but right now?
The solitude is nice.
It’s quiet.
It’s easy.
Except, my thoughts aren’t.
Not really.
Because the only thing occupying my mind is him.
Corbin.
I was jealous today.
I felt it coil inside me, hot and unwelcome, burning in my chest every time Pearla laughed a little too hard or leaned a little too close. I don’t usually see Corbin with the women he dates. He keeps them far away from me. But today was different.
He seemed more at ease with her. Comfortable .
Like he could just be himself .
And I hate that he can’t be that way with me anymore.
I wish he could be.
Seven o’clock rolls around, and I move through the closing routine like I’m on autopilot—lock the doors, flip the sign, tidy the counter. My hands work, but my mind is still tangled in him.
The walk home is slow and crisp. I hug my arms around myself, trying to shake off the thought that’s been gnawing at me all day.
I’ve never spent Tate’s birthday apart from him. Not once. Getting only a few hours with him today feels… wrong.
But Corbin is his dad. And Deanna is in town. And maybe it’s always been a little unfair that I got all the birthdays before now.
Divorce is unfair.
So why didn’t I fight harder against it?
My breath catches when I see Corbin’s car parked along the curb in front of the bakery.
And then Tate is running for me, arms outstretched, his voice bubbling over with excitement.
“This was the best birthday ever !” he shouts. “Thank you so much for my snake!”
My chest tightens as I scoop him up, holding him close, breathing him in.
“That was all Dad,” I say, my gaze landing on Corbin.
He’s standing a few feet away, holding Tate’s overnight bag, his expression unreadable.
“What’s this?” I ask, nodding toward it.
Corbin shifts the bag in his grip. “I spent all day with Tate, and it’s his birthday. I thought you should at least get him tonight.”
The lump in my throat is impossible to swallow.
I will the tears not to fall, but the gesture— his gesture—wrecks me.
“You should come up,” I say before I can think better of it. “We can put him to bed together.”
His lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. But then, he smiles.
“Yeah, okay.”
As we climb the stairs to my apartment, Tate chatters about breakfast. “Can I go with Grandma tomorrow morning?”
“Did she invite you?” I ask.
“No,” he says, grinning. “But I want to invite her.”
Corbin chuckles. “I think she’d love that, bud.”
His arm brushes mine on the staircase, sending a shiver down my spine.
I unlock the door, and Corbin motions for me to go inside first.
“Wow!” Tate laughs as he kicks off his shoes. “Did you clean the house, Mom?”
Corbin steps inside, glancing around. “Did you clean, Jules?”
I scratch the back of my neck. “I may have tidied up.”
Okay, I definitely tidied up.
After talking to Corbin last night, I couldn’t focus on painting. I had too many thoughts. Mostly about him. So, I cleaned. I deep cleaned. Everything is in its place, even the mismatched dishes.
“It looks great,” Corbin says, his voice softer now.
I clear my throat. “Shower, Tate. Then Dad and I will read you a story before bed.”
Tate sprints down the hall, leaving the two of us alone in the kitchen.
Corbin watches me carefully. “You seemed off today.”
I keep my back to him as I put on the teapot. “I’m fine.”
“Then why have you been so distant?” His voice dips lower. “You didn’t even say goodbye when we left.”
Despite the gnawing sensation in my chest, I turn to face him. “Are you and Pearla a thing?”
Corbin’s head jerks back slightly, caught off guard. “Leo’s mom?”
“Yeah.”
“No.” His answer is immediate. “She lost her husband three years ago.”
“So, she’s single,” I snap before I can stop myself.
He huffs out a short laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Jules…” He trails off, his lips twitching. “Are you… jealous ?”
My stomach drops.
I cross my arms. “You spent Tate’s entire birthday party talking to her. You barely even spoke to me.”
The second the words leave my mouth, my eyes go wide. I shouldn’t have said that.
Corbin steps closer.
I lean back against the counter, instinctively trying to put space between us.
But he just smiles.
Like a damn fool .
“You were jealous.”
“I…” I trail off, scrambling for a lie.
But there’s no point. He knows .
“No, I just think that, you know, you were there to help me put on this party, and you just talked to Pearla the whole time.”
His smile deepens as he crowds in closer, his tone low and teasing. “You were jealous.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, but it comes out weak.
His hand slides along my cheek, fingers tangling in my hair. “Why were you jealous?”
I know he’s going to kiss me.
I can feel the electricity between us, the heat rising in the small space between our bodies.
Do I want him to?
I don’t even have time to answer myself before I’m gripping the front of his green pullover, yanking him closer, crashing my lips against his.
The kiss is heady and electrifying. His lips mold perfectly to mine, stealing my breath, stealing every rational thought from my head.
He lifts me onto the counter, stepping between my legs, and I know I need him. Him. Not anyone else.
He’s hard and thick, pressing against me through his jeans. My fingers slip beneath his pullover, finding the heat of his skin, tracing the hard ridges of muscle. Then, lower. I unbutton his jeans, slide the zipper down, needing to touch him—to feel him.
“Corbin,” I whisper, desperate and aching as I slowly stroke him up and down.
His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my skirt higher, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, my neck, my collarbone.
Then his fingers dip beneath my underwear, finding me already soaked for him—
“Mom!”
We jolt apart at the sound of Tate’s voice from the bathroom.
Corbin’s hands disappear as he steps back, quickly zipping his jeans, adjusting himself.
I press a hand to my chest, trying to slow my wildly beating heart.
What the hell just happened?
“I got him,” Corbin says, his voice still rough with want.
I nod, unable to form words, gripping the counter like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
This was supposed to be simple.
It’s anything but.