I guess.
Sometimes I’m not sure if it was love, lust. Habit? Whatever it was, in the end it wasn’t enough.
“Next time.” I shoot her a quick smile. “Maybe we’ll go see Grams for Spring break.”
She tips her head back and smiles wide, baring her braces, tracks of rubber banded metal glinting in the dimly lit hotel room. I glance at the silver domes covering the remains of our holiday dinner. Not exactly how I wanted to spend Christmas – in a hotel room on the West Coast when everyone who matters to me is on the East. Except my daughter, who matters most of all.
I wonder if it snowed in D.C. Avery’s there at her parents’ place. I promised myself I wouldn’t think about her, but it’s easier said
than done when you wake up with a throbbing cock, an aching heart and one woman on your mind.
I pull my phone from the pocket of my jeans and open Instagram. She and the other SportsCo anchors are pretty active on social media. It’s practically expected, and all of them post for holidays. No new posts from Avery for the last week, though.
“Who’s that?” Kiera asks, leaning closer for a better look at the phone. “She’s pretty.”
I hesitate, never one to lie to my daughter, but unsure how to categorize Avery. If it were up to me, the answer would be easy. Obviously it’s not up to me since she and I haven’t spoken since that night in the hotel.
“Her name’s Avery.” I toss the phone on the hotel coffee table. “And we said no phones today, so don’t go pulling yours out.”
“You started it,” she reminds me, eyes bright with curiosity and humor. “Drooling over your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my . . .” I stop myself because dammit if I don’t want Avery to be my girlfriend. “She’s a friend.”
Kiera shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but she’s intuitive, sharp. I’ve had one-night stands and booty calls since Tara and I divorced, but none of it ever touched my daughter. She’s never even seen me date or express interest in anyone, but she’s picked up on my interest in Avery. She’s growing up. I hate that our choices, mine and Tara’s, in many ways made her grow up too fast and deal with things too soon. Like the fact that love isn’t always enough. That sometimes it fades altogether, even for your parents, and it changes your world forever. I know how sad she was when Tara and I divorced; how helpless she felt. She tried to hide it, but it came out in counseling, and we’ve been open about our feelings with each other ever since.
“Hey. Look at me.” I tip up her chin until our eyes meet. “Talk to me. If Avery and I were dating, how would you feel about that?”
She blinks a few times and lowers her lashes.
“It’s cool.” She presses her lips together tight before looking back up at me. “I mean, since you and Mom . . .”
There’s a hundred hopes and a dozen questions peppered in the sentence she leaves hanging, and none of my answers would be what she wants to hear.
“You are the most important thing to your mom and me,” I assure her. “We’d both do anything for you, but our life together, our marriage, you know that part’s over.”
“Yeah.” The smile she offers seems hard to do. It’s not easy. Not natural and mostly for my benefit. “It’s cool.”
I’m about to dig further when my phone vibrates on the table, drawing my attention and Kiera’s. The photo, the contact’s name, are clear for us both to see.
Avery.
I grind my teeth together and force my hand to remain still at my side.
Shit.
A week with no word and she calls when I’ve promised Kiera my complete focus. We agreed to silence our phones before dinner.
“You’re not gonna answer?” Kiera asks. “Isn’t that your girlfriend?”
“She’s not—” I cut myself off when I see the laughter back in her eyes. “We said no phones.”
The phone vibrates again, and I can only hope when I call Avery back after Kiera leaves, she’ll answer.
“I’ll make you a deal,” Kiera says. “You get your call. I get my Candy Crush, and then we’re back.”
I calculate. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t release her from our bargain, but we’ve both been disciplined and maybe she deserves a little break.
“Deal.”