Chapter 30 Vander's arm is heavy across my stomach, possessive even here as we're in his bed. We showered, and once again he washed me and massaged me and put me in one of his shirts. I fell asleep almost immediately, but I'm not sure Vander ever sleeps. His fingers are tickling my skin, and I can feel his mind working. "What time is it?" I murmur. "It's late. Or early. Around three." Christ. When we finally climbed into bed, it was only ten. "Have you slept?" "No. I will later." "You're going to burn out." "I haven't yet." I frown at that. "I didn't mean to wake you." "Are you just getting back in bed?" Because I have a feeling he left me after I fell asleep and went down to his office to work on... whatever it is he works on. "Yes." I blink open my eyes to find we're facing each other, both of us on our sides on our respective pillows. His stubble-lined jaw has another layer, and his eyes are a shade darker than they usually are. Yes, Vander's mind isn't settled. "Go back to sleep." He leans forward and kisses my forehead. "I'm awake now." And I don't want to go back to sleep. Not yet. I want to keep this night going as long as possible. "You know this wasn't in your job description when I hired you or convinced you to move in," he says, locked on my face. "I believe I promised you a lot of things. More promises that I've broken." "Should I file a report with HR?" "I'm technically the head of HR. Maybe I'll give you a raise instead." I snort a half-laugh. "A raise for screwing my boss? How very nineties corporate scandal of you. I can just see the Dateline episode now." "That's only if you report my transgressions, which I don't think you will. And the raise is because Champagne is retiring on Friday, and I think you'll end up deserving it since you have to deal with me. I'm not a very good boss." That's a lie. He's a great boss. He doesn't see it, and he doesn't realize it because he's gruff and brilliant and demanding, but he's patient and listens and respects his employees and their thoughts and opinions. He also randomly gives us time off, like he did Friday afternoon. "True. You're a horrible boss. The kind who spreads his assistant across his desk and makes her come." He smiles, and it's like when he was a seventeen-year-old kid again. That smile used to make me weak in the knees. He was my older brother's best friend, and I noticed him long before he noticed me. That smile stole my heart and easily still owns it. His fingers splay across my stomach under my shirt, but he's not copping a feel up or down, which he easily could. It's as if he's content with our cute pillow talk. "I should probably recuse myself from your performance evaluations." "You better not." I feign indignation. "I'm fabulous in bed. Far better at that than I am at being an assistant. I feel like those will be my highest marks." "You're learning, and you're doing great. You are." I preen a little at the assurance in his green eyes. I wish he weren't so beautiful with his full lips and dimpled chin, rough, stubbled jaw, forest green eyes, and messy blond hair. "Will this be weird for you? Things have changed this weekend, and I don't want to lose it. Not ever." My heart gives a powerful thump at that, but I bring us back to light territory. "I mean, probably. Not even two months ago, I was a sexy stripper, and you were just the boy who broke my adolescent heart. Now you're my boss and the landlord I don't pay rent to." I gasp and slap a hand over my mouth. "Ah! I'm sleeping with you. I've officially upped my way to whore." He rolls his eyes. "If you're a whore, you're my whore, and I mean that in a hot, filthy way and no other. I could call you my lover if that's more palatable." "Um, no." I scrunch my nose. "Sounds very adult. And cringe." "Boyfriend sounds ridiculous and juvenile." "I never said you were my boyfriend." "I never called you my whore," he counters sharply. "Ugh. Whatever happened to roommates with benefits?" "They don't typically get anal." I crack up, unable to stop. "God, we're complicated." "Always have been, Angel." His expression softens. "But I like having you here. Both of you. Temporary... or not," he adds, and there's meaning behind it. "Hazel likes it here as well," I tell him instead of addressing that. "She looks just like you." "She has my stubbornness too." "And your playful side. When you allow yourself to have one." "Broke single moms don't have a lot of time for those." "I came home to you as a tiger dancing and singing your ass off." "That was with Hazel. I don't have one when I'm not with her." "But you're smiling now." I am. I've been smiling a lot recently. More so since he came back into my life two months ago. "Where did moody Vander go? Who is this hot, soft-hearted guy?" He shrugs and starts swirling patterns on my belly with his finger. "As long as I'm still hot." "Always hot. Insanely hot. Bad boy hot." He chuckles but sobers quickly. "I think I became moody because I forgot how to smile." "That's the worst thing I've ever heard. And a bit cheesy in a Hallmark TV special kind of way, but still epically sad." "Probably. That was pretty lame, though it's no less true. Cass died and I left you, and shit got bad for me at MIT. Since then, I've been all about work, and I don't trust many people. All work and no trust makes Vander a dick. At least a hot one." "With piercings, so you have that going for you too. But it's like me. You don't trust me." His expression grows earnest. "Give me a reason to." I shake my head against the pillow and bring my hand to his face, tracing the lines, playing with the fierce dimple in his chin. "I don't trust anyone either." A slight frown tugs down the corner of his lips, but it doesn't last long. He knows I'm keeping a world of secrets from him. "Does that make us wiser or more cynical?" "Both," I state flatly. "I'm less idealistic than I used to be." "Still fighting the world, though." "Not well. Most days I feel pretty beaten by it," I admit, and that has him leaning over to kiss me. Just a quick peck before he goes back to his pillow. "You're wrong. You fight like hell. Not many could do what you do, live the life you've been living, and still smile the way you do." "Life gets awfully dark very quickly if you allow it to. Hazel deserves a better mother than that, and frankly, I don't want to be that woman." His eyes hold mine for a very long, intense moment. To the point where I get jittery and smile and want to bite my lip to cut this... feeling all at once. He makes a girl want to giggle and squeal, and he does it all with a look. "Did you like living in California?" he asks, sliding us back into comfortable territory. "I loved it. I would have stayed there forever." "But you moved back to Boston." I know where he's going with all of this, and I have to be careful with my answers. "I met Mattia⁠-" "His name does not get mentioned in my bed." "Such a caveman, bro," I tease. "I started dating the loser⁠-" "Better." "-and a month or so later, we found out I was pregnant. I told you some of this already. It happened right at the same time his company transferred him to Boston. He asked me to go with him, and I was a single, pregnant woman taking night classes to get my prerequisites done, and he was offering me a future. I said yes because of Hazel." "You didn't love him?" "No." I can't lie to myself anymore about that. I never loved him. It's only ever been this guy for me, and that terrifies me like nothing else. His hand tickles my belly again, and I like that he's doing that. My tits and pussy are both right there for him, but he's touching my belly in soft, sweet caresses, and it might be the best thing a man has ever done to me. "Have you ever thought about leaving Boston?" I parry. He hitches a shoulder. "Not really. It's where my friends are, and my parents have a place in the city too. It's where the company is. Boston is home." "Not Maine," I state, not bothering to ask it as a question. "Not Maine," he confirms. "I like it there. It's beautiful and quiet, but it's a bit too quiet for me. And there are too many memories." I look away from him, down at his chest. He has no clue, but I want to tell him. Especially after his comment about how he blames himself for Cassian's death. He's not to blame. Neither is poor Cassian. But if I tell him, then I bring him into the darkness of my life, and I don't want him there. I don't want that for him. He's already done so much for me, and the thought of putting him in any danger makes my stomach twist. "Do you like running Monroe Securities?" I ask instead, redirecting us once again. "Sometimes. Business is business, and that's never been my favorite thing." We're both dancing around so many unsaid things right now. His secrets and mine, and there's no breaching them. No traversing this divide. "What about you?" he asks as he reaches for me, scoops his arms around me, and rolls us so I'm on his chest and his arms are around my lower back, holding me close. "Do you like working there?" "I do actually." I prop myself up on him so I can see his face and play with his hair, which loves to flop onto his forehead. "I like the people I work with. Well, minus my hot, sexy boss. He's a bit of a tyrant, but I know how to work him." "Oh? How's that?" "He likes the way I kiss him." I drop my lips to his and give him a deep, swirling kiss that makes me dizzy. "He does," he confirms, a little breathless the way I am. "He loves it actually. What else?" "He's a softy for my smile." And my kid. And he makes it so that I have to fight him so I don't fall for him. "Melts like ice cream in the summer over it. What else you got?" Damn him. I smile like the teenage girl all over again, but I go angsty and roll my eyes to show my disdain. "He's possessive and protective." "Always will be, Angel. I make no apologies for that." "I hate that Alesha is a bitch and wants you." He smiles. "Still jealous of her, huh?" I tug his hair. "Nope. Why would I be jealous? I mean, it's not as though she's an older, beautiful, smart woman or anything." "Glad to hear you're not. She's got nothing on you." "Better not." His neck arches up, and he kisses the corner of my lips. "You're the one I want, Angel. No one else." With his hands in my hair, he brings my mouth back down to his, and he shows me once again how I'm the one he wants. A loud bang wakes me from one of the deepest sleeps I've had in years. I jolt up and fall out of bed at the same time, tumbling to the floor in a mess of arms and legs. For a moment, I have no clue where I am, and with that, my heart pounds harder. I search around and realize I'm on the floor in Vander's bedroom. Hazel. Shit. What time is it? I drag myself up off the floor and slam my shin into the wooden side of the bed as I go. "Ow! Crap, crap! That freaking hurts." I jump on my other leg and spin around to find Vander's side empty. And the clock on his nightstand says... "Oh my God! How did I sleep till nine?" I race out of his room and down the hall toward the stairs, forgetting my smarting shin. I'm about to round the banister and fly up to the third floor when a sound from the first floor stops me. A squeal. Hazel. My feet carry me down the steps so fast I'm shocked I don't fall. I follow the sound and come to a screeching halt when I find Vander at the stove and Hazel on the counter a safe distance away. "You ready? Should we try again?" "No!" she cries. "You sure? I think I can do it this time." "No! You dropped two." "Third time's a charm. Come on. Count with me. One, two, three!" Hazel counts with him, and I watch as Vander double clutches the pan's handle and flips a giant, oddly shaped pancake in the air and catches it-sorta-in the pan. "Success!" Vander crows triumphantly. "See. Told you I could do it." Hazel applauds and wiggles a happy dance before she pushes herself back on the counter so she doesn't fall. "Careful," he warns. "I can't catch pancakes and you at the same time." "I'm good," she singsongs. "Good, because this one is ready." He sets the pan down and shuts off the stove. "Here, let's get you in your chair. You said blueberries and strawberries for Mickey's face?" "Please." I smile at the please, but it's all I've got because everything else inside of me is busy squeezing my chest so tight I can hardly breathe. He picks Hazel up off the counter and carries her to a seat at the bar, and that's when they catch me. "Mommy!" "Hey," Vander chimes in after her. "Good morning." He takes me in from head to toe, his lips twitching while his eyes turn molten, and I realize it's because in my wild panic and haste to find Hazel, I didn't get dressed, and I'm still only wearing his T-shirt. "We're making pancakes." "Mickey pancakes," Hazel corrects. "Yes. Mickey pancakes." He sets her down and walks over to me. "I hope this is okay. You were sound asleep when Hazel woke up, and I didn't want to wake you. We needed a few things, so we went to Broadway Market. I would have asked, but again, you were asleep." "You went grocery shopping together?" "Yes." "And you made her Mickey Mouse pancakes?" "I can't tell if you're mad or about to cry." "Not mad." He smiles and leans in to kiss my forehead. "Come sit down, and I'll make you one too." He takes my hand and leads me over to the seat beside Hazel. He throws her a wink and plates up a giant pancake with wonky-looking Mickey Mouse ears, but he puts two blueberries in it for the eyes and triangle strawberries in a half-circle for the mouth. The entire masterpiece gets placed in front of her along with a sippy cup of milk and orange juice and real maple syrup that I immediately grab before she can, and I'm in love. I'm so freaking undeniably in love with Vander Moore. It's not the first time I've had these thoughts, but that was then, and this is now, and I love him. Like I want him to do this exact same thing with our kids one day kind of love, and it terrifies me. I'm not the girl who gets that. I'm the girl who lives by the skin of her teeth and is always watching over her shoulder. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Fɪndηovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "Mommy, do you want to cut that up for her while I make you one?" I throw him a look for calling me Mommy, but I get to work on Hazel's pancake so she can eat it. "You like turkey bacon, right? Do you still not eat pork?" I glance up mid-slice and wordlessly nod. "Good. That's what I got you. It's in the oven and should be ready. There's also coffee in the pot." When I was a kid, our neighbor had a pig that I fell in love with. Then I read Charlotte's Web, and that was it for me. No pork products for this girl. But coffee I do. Once Hazel's good to go, armed with her Peppa Pig fork and more syrup on her pancake than I'd usually allow, I climb out of my chair and move in behind Vander, who's back at the stove. I wrap my arms around him and rest the side of my face between his shoulder blades. "You're taller than you used to be." I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "A little maybe. Or you shrunk." "She's going to fall in love with you." "Only her?" he asks softly as he flips the pancake, this time with a spatula. I don't answer him. I can't. I have things to tell him that I can never tell him. And those things will forever keep us apart. I'm going to get hurt. I know this. I expect it. But I don't want to hurt him too. And I'd rather die than hurt Hazel. I kiss the spot my cheek was just resting on and pour myself a cup of coffee, needing a minute. He puts a giant plate of food in front of me, but before he can get away, I tug him down onto the seat beside me. "Share this with me. There's too much for just me." I cut up a piece and feed it to him first. He smirks at me as he takes a bite. "Making sure I didn't poison you?" I smile back. "I am now." He chews, and I lean in to kiss the sticky spot of syrup on the corner of his lips. "Thank you." He shrugs like it's no big thing. "Hazel and I had fun, right?" She nods enthusiastically, but her mouth is too full to answer. We continue to eat, taking turns with the fork the same way we did with the cookie dough spoon. He leans in and whispers, "How are you feeling? Sore?" I blush a little but shake my head. "No. Not sore." I feel happy and safe, and those aren't two things I ever thought I'd get. Not at the same time. We finish eating, and I insist on cleaning everything up. Vander goes up to shower, and Hazel and I dance and sing around the kitchen while I load up the dishwasher. And it's impossible not to wonder, not to hope, that this could be real.