I touch my lips to Khloe’s hair. Jesus Christ, this is not what I expected when I set out from New York a week ago. But then, nothing is ever what I expect with Chrissie.

I walk the floor for thirty minutes.

I glance down at the baby. “She’s asleep. I’ll be right back.”

I go into the nursery and set Khloe carefully into the crib. I wait. Nothing. Perfect. I still have six hours here.

I go back to the bedroom, softly close the door, climb beneath the blankets and turn into Chrissie.

Fuck.

She’s asleep.

 

 

Chapter 13

I wake with a start. My eyes open and slowly focus. It’s too fucking bright in here, but then it’s Chrissie’s bedroom. Of course it’s flooded with sunlight.

I inhale deeply and smell the scent of sex in the air. Memories of the night flash in my head. My body stirs.

I turn in bed, yawning and stretching out. Christ, I feel good this morning. Physically drained in the right way, instead of the way I normally feel.

I check the clock. 7 a.m. I’m awake one hour before our negotiated time of my departure. Oh, I’m definitely ready to start up again.

Things are looking up. Sending Aarsi here was a brilliant move. I’m out of isolated purgatory. I’m back in Chrissie’s bed. It won’t be long until we’re together again. I just need to figure out how to keep us moving in the right direction. It should be easier now we’re fucking again. I’m back in control. I need to keep it that way.

It’s time to wake her.

Get one more good fuck in before she sends me home.

Fuck, I don’t want to go home.

I roll over in bed, my arm moving to reach for her. I freeze and stare. Bed empty. Where the hell did she go?

I climb from the sheets and spot the used condom on the floor. Shit, I hated using that with Chrissie. I love the feel of being inside her bareback. I collect the miserable thing. The condoms are another thing I’ve got to fix quickly.

My cock twitches as I wad it up in a ball with some tissue and toss it into the trash. As much as I hate rubbers it was kind of a turn-on that she bought them. Maybe thought of me while she did. Had them ready in the drawer. Planned last night ahead.

Then I remember her telling me why she had them. No longer a turn-on. And oh, definitely good she planned ahead.

Not on the pill.

Fuck, that’s all we need.

We’ll have to discuss that one real soon.

We don’t need more complications.

Chrissie comes with a full load of complications already.

I still haven’t figured out how to mold us back together. I don’t think we’re going to transition from fucking to being together quite as quickly as we used to. There’s too much to work through.

I go into the bathroom, take a leak, and make a fast stop in the shower to rinse off. I gargle with some mouthwash, and then grab my clothes. I pull on my pants, and shake my head as I zip up my fly. I wish she’d stayed in the bed. It’s maddening being the one to wake up alone. To know that my role is to dress and get out of here quickly before the kids see me.

It’s galling that she expects me to slip quietly away.

I reach for my shirt.

I go into the hallway and make my way past open doors. Empty room. Empty room. At least it’s quiet in the house. Ethan and Khloe must still be asleep. Maybe I can get Chrissie back into bed for a little while longer.

I cut through the kitchen. Vacant. This is ridiculous. My clock is running out. I’m wasting my last minutes here just trying to find her. Why didn’t she stay in bed? Why is nothing ever simple with Chrissie?

I go into the family room and stare out the wall of glass. Ah, there she is. She’s curled in a chair, face tilted to the sun, long, messy, unbrushed blond hair streaming down her back, and she’s got Khloe in her arms latched to her breast.

God, she’s got fantastic breasts.

Fuck, kid got there first.

Chrissie’s not going back to bed with me today.

I slide open the door and step out. I hang back and watch her for a moment. She’s breathtaking in the morning. Even dressed like that. An old Cal sweatshirt, boxer shorts, and heavy, comfy, thick knit footy socks with the toes turned into idiotic designs of a dog’s face. The mommy wardrobe of a woman exiting her youth. I find her sexy dressed even in that.

Her face turns toward me. “I made coffee. It’s there on the patio table. You probably can finish a cup before you have to hit the road.”

Not the good morning I wanted.

She smiles. “I’d make you breakfast before you go only my hands are full.”

“I don’t need breakfast. You should have just brought Khloe back to bed with us. I would have rather woken up with you.”

I pour a cup of coffee and settle on the chair next to her. Chrissie lapses into silence. She doesn’t look at me. I wonder if this feels as strange to her as it does to me, like we’re moving cautiously in every move. Are we off? Or is it this odd ritual of deliberately pulling apart from each other in the morning and her kicking me out before the kids return?

The smile is no longer on her face. OK, she’s feeling something, too, and doesn’t like this either. This sneaking out of the house nonsense is not going to work for me. I rake a hand through my hair, trying to organize how to say this to her. It’s better to be upfront.

“I understand what you’re trying to do,” I say carefully, “and why you think you need to do it. But this is the last time I spend the night with you and slip out the side door early in the morning. And don’t expect me to pretend I don’t love you, that we’re not involved, when we’re around your kids.”

Her eyes flash. “That’s not what I’m asking you to do. I’m asking you to have a little sensitivity for my children. You can’t force change on children too quickly. It’s better that we move slowly in this.”

Sensitivity?

Is she fucking kidding?

That was insensitive to me, Chrissie.

“One of your children is mine,” I bite out before I can stop myself. “Am I sneaking out the back door to be sensitive for her, too? For how long are we going to do this? One year? Ten? This is absurd. You’ve already told your kids everything. They know I’m Khloe’s father. Me being here with you shouldn’t surprise any of them. I’m not being insensitive. I want to be here. With all of you. It isn’t even change for the kids.”

Where the fuck did that speech come from? Be here? With all of them? What am I saying? Even I’m not sure and lack of declarative sentences is never a good thing with Chrissie. She always takes everything wrong.

I shift my gaze to find her studying my face. Fuck, I know that expression.

“I think you need to leave, Alan,” she says, lowering her gaze to Khloe as she takes back her nipple. She jerks her shirt down and hurries into the house.

Oh fuck, that worked out brilliantly.

I don’t finish my coffee. I go back into the house and into the kitchen to wait for her. A few minutes later, she returns. She doesn’t have Khloe in her arms anymore. Hopefully not an indication she’s in the mood to continue the fight. Time to start this over.

“Why don’t we just get married this time, Chrissie? We can figure it all out as we need to.”

I say the words before I realize what they are. What the fuck is wrong with me? Did I just ask her to marry me after our first night being back together over coffee and a fight? This is not going to go well.

The air fills with prickling tension.

She stares at me.

Anxious. Frustrated. Angry.

“I’m forty-one years old, Alan. I have five kids. I don’t have a right to make snap decisions. I don’t have a right to have affairs in front of my children. And I definitely don’t have a right not to put them first. I can’t let myself decide life changes for them for the sake of expediency or sleeping a few extra hours in bed in the morning. I’m sorry if you find that inconvenient. It’s the way it is. Learn to deal with it.”