Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
mia
The one I’m looking at has a private pool you could swim laps in, on a balcony overlooking Central Park. We’ll feel like absolute royalty.
I pause, picturing Preston taking me from behind out there, buried deep, while I watch the world go by. We’ll go by unseen. Unbothered. I hum at the scene playing in my brain. Note to self: wear a skirt.
One more second with that thought, and my hand will slip under the covers. I distract myself by checking the hotel confirmation email, syncing check-in and check-out times to Preston’s calendar, then tidying my room up.
By the time I’m showered, changed, and tiptoeing my way to wake Lily up, Preston’s already beaten me to it.
Lily’s already dressed, hair wrangled with no less than six bright clips, backpack slung on… and not remotely amused.
“Why is everyone waking up so early today?” she mutters, narrowing her eyes.
Preston and I exchange guilty glances, and might as well raise plaques that read busted.
I say, “Success favors the prepared,” while her dad claims, “The early bird gets the worm,” and we both crack up laughing, dangerously close to blowing our cover. How we’re supposed to keep this dirty secret from actual adults is beyond me.
“That’s not even funny,” the grumpy six-year-old mumbles, stomping her way downstairs to the kitchen. Once we hear her little feet hit the ground floor, we face each other, and every part of me forgets how to act casual.
Pres doesn’t seem to have the same issue. He pulls me into his arms and kisses my forehead like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Good morning, beautiful,” he says softly.
I close my eyes and try not to swoon.
“Slept well?” he asks.
“Very,” I breathe, as my traitorous brain queues up a montage of this man on his knees, eating me out with an enthusiasm I’ve never been graced with before. Something coils low in my belly, and if this reel keeps playing, I’ll need a fresh pair of panties before we even make it out of the house.
“Me too. After I jerked off twice.”
Fine, maybe a quick change before breakfast, just so I don’t ruin any furniture.
“One to memories, another to expectations.”
I go rigid in his arms at that last word. It’s a brutal reminder of how inexperienced I am compared to a forty-three-year-old man. Of how easily I could disappoint him.
“What just happened?” he asks, pulling me out of my spiral with a gentle squeeze just above my elbows.
“It’s just…”
“Say it. I love how you don’t hide. How I don’t have to guess or tiptoe. Whatever’s peeking behind your eyes right now… let it out. You know you can trust me.”
Fucker. I do trust him. That’s the terrifying part.
“You have expectations.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t smirk. Just smiles, and it’s not condescending. It’s honest and steady. He’s offering me a place to land.
“Okay, so maybe that was a poor choice of words.” He pulls me closer and sways us gently. “What I meant was, I’m excited for more time with you. For more of you.”
Then he dips his head and whispers right into my ear, “There’s no version of this where you disappoint me, Mia.”
The peace shatters with a loud crack from below. Then Lily’s voice trails up, high-pitched and guilty, “Sorryyyy!”
Preston bolts, calling out, “Are you okay?” before he’s even halfway down. I follow close behind, trying not to trip over my own feet or ovaries.
Lily’s kneeling on the high chair, gripping a full gallon of milk. Her cereal swims in a puddle on the floor, mixed with the remains of what used to be a bowl.
“I was just trying to make myself breakfast,” she says, wide-eyed but not crying.
“It’s okay, Lil. It was worth a try. This is how we learn.
” Preston crouches, carefully picking up porcelain shards, then dropping them into a paper bag like it’s no big deal.
“Sorry we took so long to come down.” He grabs another bowl and hands it to her while I take care of the floor. “Want to try again?”
Lily perks up. “Can I, Dad?”
My panties don’t stand a chance. Even his parenting turns me into soup. Is there anything this man is bad at?
“Of course you can. Practice is the only way we learn. Give it another go.”
I watch as he shows her how to set the bowl farther from the edge, how to grip the milk jug steady with both hands. She overflows the bowl—twice—and he doesn’t so much as flinch. Just grabs a towel, wipes the counter, swaps bowls, and talks her nerves down.
Lily’s so lucky. My chest twists at the thought of what it must be like to grow up with that kind of attention and tenderness. In that kind of safety.
On her sixth attempt, she finally nails it—clean pour, no splash—and the three of us break into a full-body celebratory dance around the kitchen island. Look at us, already making him bust out moves.
And when I see how proud this fierce, stubborn little girl looks, I get a glimpse of the woman she’ll grow into. So brave. Wild too. Unapologetically herself.
It guts me a little, knowing I won’t be around to see it. April and Callie better send me photos. Updates. Anything. Because the world’s gonna be lucky to have her—and I already miss her future.
“Mia, want me to pour your milk?” Lily asks, practically vibrating with excitement.
Preston’s eyes double in size. I press my lips to stop a laugh as he silently panics behind her.
“I don’t think I’ll have cereal today, Lils. But that was really thoughtful of you, thanks for asking.”
She huffs, clearly gutted, and my chest twinges. Preston leans back on the sink after dodging that bullet.
“Cheese sandwich, Miss Thorne?” he offers.
Lily eyes us both and fires me another question before I can answer his. “Didn’t you ask Dad not to call you Miss?”
“I did! You have such a good memory, Lils.” I ruffle her hair just to be a tad annoying.
She yelps and nudges the hair clip back into place, muttering under her breath.
“But you know what? Life’s already full of battles.
And I’ve learned that no matter how politely I ask your father, he’ll still deny me some of the things I really, really want. ”
* * *
I meet Mrs. Romano before we leave for drop-off.
A lovely, yet no-nonsense Italian lady. She spits on the floor when she passes by a picture of Blake.
I gasp so hard it sends me into a coughing fit.
Fine, I also fight the urge to howl with laughter.
The woman is mad. Mad. But fiercely protective of these two, so I love her already.
She’s grumbling about being overpaid, and Preston’s playing dumb to avoid the discussion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I pay you what’s fair, Grazi.”
Mrs. Romano waves him off, muttering something in Italian, curse words would be my guess, and Lily wraps her arms around her waist.
Preston explains the plan. “We’ll be out all day, probably back after six. That okay?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I already said so,” she huffs, arms flapping, shooing us to the door. “Vai, vai, go, go. I make sure they do the work, don’t you worry.”
I, for one, am not worried about her. What I am is deeply concerned for the well-being of the builders. Poor souls are about to get bossed into another dimension.
“Nana Grazi,” Lily says shyly, “would you make me your lasagna?”
“Ma certo, piccola! I’d never let you starve.”
Lily jumps in place, and I melt a little. They’re blessed to have this iron-fisted marshmallow of a woman in their corner.
“Grazie, Grazi.” Lily giggles at her own pun.
Mrs. Grazielle Romano rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling too.
At the door, Preston pauses. “Mia will be running some errands for me. I’ve got back-to-back calls today, so I might be hard to get a hold of. If it’s urgent, text me 911, okay?”
You’ll be hard, all right.
Oh, shut up, brain.
Grazi waves us off. “Stop worrying, Doctor Preston.” I smile at how she rolls the R in doctor. “I will handle these men just fine.”
Her delicious accent, the rough edge in her voice, her permanent scowl—I believe her. Everyone should.
Now if only I could sound as confident saying I can handle this man.