Chapter 24

“Swayze?”

I dream of Griffin getting in a motorcycle accident. I’m not sure it’s a dream. It feels too real, the worst pain ever.

“Swayze?”

I stand next to his family as mourners file through the funeral home to give their condolences. The shiny metal casket is closed. People who die in motorcycle accidents don’t have open casket funerals.

“Swayze?”

As I blot my eyes with the same handkerchief my mom held at my father’s funeral, Nate appears, holding Morgan. She’s wearing a dress. It’s yellow like a Daisy, not black. I’m glad he didn’t dress her in black. Babies shouldn’t wear black. He holds her in one arm and pulls me in for a firm embrace with his other arm. My hand presses to his tie. It’s gray. I wonder who tied it for him?

After he squeezes another round of tears out of me, he tells me how sorry he is, but that he’ll be waiting whenever I’m ready. Ready for what? Then he leans in once more and whispers, “I love you, Daisy.”

“Swayze?”

“What?” I startle and bolt to sitting, squinting against the light shining into the bedroom from the hallway.

It was a dream. I blink back the tears that sting my eyes. Fucking hell, it felt real. I need to call Griffin.

“Um …” Nate clears his throat then looks back over his shoulder toward the hallway, rubbing his neck. “I’m leaving and …”

I start to adjust the spaghetti straps to my nightshirt and realize half my right boob is sticking out—half of my boob but all of my nipple. “Oh my god! You just saw my—”

“It’s fine.” He risks a quick glance before settling his gaze back onto my covered chest.

“It’s fine? Are you referring to my boob or are you brushing it off as no big deal?”

Meek personality my ass.

Nate’s eyes snap to mine. “Neither. Both.” He shakes his head. “The light’s off, I didn’t see anything. I just wanted you to know I’m leaving so you know to listen for Morgan.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. And … I didn’t see anything.”

“You’re a liar.” I pull the sheet up to cover my chest just for safe measure.

“I’m not lying.” He retreats to the door.

“I still don’t believe you.”

He chuckles. “Fine. When I get home tomorrow, I’ll sketch what I saw … which was your mouth open, snoring, one arm like a goal post by your head and the other draped over your chest. I don’t know why you had your boob out.”

I throw the pillow at the door, but miss him. “I didn’t have it out. It just …”

“Bye, Swayze.” He grins and disappears around the corner.

Without giving a second thought to the time (4 a.m.), I call Griffin. I need to hear his voice.

“Yeah?” His groggy greeting wraps around me like a warm blanket. It’s not sexy. It’s not filled with excitement. I’m not sure he looked at the screen to see it’s me.

But minutes ago my mind mourned him in the worst way. Stupid nightmares. He doesn’t have to be awake, sexy, or excited. I just need him to be.

“Hey,” I whisper past the lump in my throat, wiping away the tears running down my cheeks.

“Baby, is everything okay?”

“It is now.”

“Swayz … it’s the middle of the night. Why are you awake?”

“The professor just left for the airport. I’m going to go back to sleep, but I needed to hear your voice. I …” I sniffle.

“Baby, are you crying?”

“Bad dream. That’s all.” I wipe more tears. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Did something happen to me in your bad dream?”

I nod, unable to speak past the pain. It felt so real.

“Swayz?”

“Y-you … died.” I hold back the sob that’s dying to escape.

“I’m fine. Okay?”

Another nod that he can’t see. “Go back to sleep. I just needed …” I bite my quivering lower lip.

“I need you too,” he says.

Yeah. That. Exactly that.

“I don’t deserve my grocery store guy. But can that be our little secret?”

He chuckles. It’s a sleepy rumble. “You were a mess that day in the grocery store. Everything that came out of your mouth was a string of words tripping over themselves like dominoes. And you eye-fucked the hell out of me.”

“What? Not true.” My back straightens.

“Totally true. I felt thoroughly violated by the time I pulled out of the parking lot.”

“Griffin Calloway, you’re drunk or hungover. Where is this coming from? You’ve never said this to me before. Ever …”

More chuckles ensue. It makes my cheek miss his chest, my ear miss the thrumming of his heart. I love it when I’m sprawled out on his bare chest, our bodies tangled in sexed-up sheets while we talk about something that makes him laugh.

“It’s true. I thought, ‘Man, she’s a fucking disaster—a mumbling mess of hormones who has stripped me ten times over with those eyes that I think are blue, but I don’t know for sure because her gaze hasn’t ventured any higher than my chest.’”

“Thanks, Griff. I’m starting to feel less brokenhearted over you dying in my dreams.”

“But … are you ready for the good part?”

“Oh, wow! Is there really a good part to this?”

“The good part was dinner with my parents the night after we met. My mom asked about my day …”

I grin in spite of myself. That’s where he gets it.

“I told her I met a girl. Couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was just a feeling. You were this feeling inside of me that shook me to the core. It wasn’t any one thing—your looks, your words, your voice, your demeanor—it was all of it … or none of it. I still don’t know. I just felt like I’d arrived somehow. And I still feel it every fucking day.”

Right here, on the other end of the phone, is my old soul of a grocery store guy. “Come home to me in one piece. Okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“If you don’t, I’ll die.”

“That’s tragic. Don’t die, Swayz.”

“Just … come home. I want to play house with you.”

Griffin chuckles. “Play house, huh?”

“Yes. I’ll cook. You clean. I’ll do the laundry—”

“I’ll do the laundry.”

“That’s what I meant. You’ll do the laundry and clean. Well … let’s be honest. You’ll do most of the cooking as well.”

“Sounds like what I’ve been doing. How do you fit into the equation?”

“I’ll watch you work. Drool. Distract you with my body. Lick you up and down. Just … stuff like that.”

He clears the frog from his throat. “This could work.”

“I think so too.”

“Go to sleep, Swayz. I have dirty dreams to have about you before the sun comes up.”

“I love you. Don’t die, or I’ll kill you. Okay?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Love you too.”

He ends the call, and once again, I hold the phone to my ear just a bit longer, until I fall asleep. I want to dream of us, but I don’t. Hours later I awake to a crying baby and a line of sweat along my brow. I dreamed of Nate, not Daisy’s Nate or Morgan’s daddy. I dreamed of the photo Nate.

Young.

Hot.

Sexy Nate in the photo that’s still under the pillow.

I bolt to the nursery as if Morgan’s life depends on it, but in reality, I’m running from the dream—the one where I was having sex with twenty-something Nate.

What. The. Fuck?

“Good morning, sweet baby.” I hug her to me. “Are you hungry? Or did you have a bad dream? Bad dreams are going around.”

Dreadful dreams.

Inappropriate dreams.

“We should get you a dream catcher. Maybe we both need one.” I change her diaper and mix up her bottle of formula.

Griffin is my world. A living fantasy. The winning lottery ticket. I need more scans of my brain. Something is wrong with me. I should never ever have sex dreams starring any other man than Griffin Calloway.

I didn’t steal the photo to fantasize about Nate. I took it to feed my curiosity and maybe find a spark of recognition that could piece this craziness together.

My phone chimes as I settle in the recliner to give Morgan her bottle.

Professor: Made it to the hotel. Give Morgan a good-morning kiss from me. Message me if you need anything. Try to keep it PG and professional. ; )

“Oh for the love of …” I shake my head. He’s all guy. I will forever be the nanny who sends blowjob texts by accident to her employer—and then has sex dreams about him.

Swayze: My mom is coming to have dinner with me and Morgan. I have to be on my best behavior. So don’t sweat it.

Professor: Don’t forget to show her the silver wrapper with blue writing.

Swayze: If you weren’t my employer, I would say something snarky.

Professor: I’m waiting in a mile-long line for coffee outside of the conference room. Humor me. What would you say if I weren’t your employer?

I grin. He’s good at baiting me. I shouldn’t take the bait. But …

Swayze: How’s your tie? If anyone compliments you on it, don’t forget to tell them your 21 yr. old nanny tied it for you.

Professor: Low blow

Swayze: Low blow would be the old man shoes you packed. Where did you get those? An orthotics store?

Professor: Lies. All lies. My students think I’m the coolest professor on campus.

I don’t doubt it. Professor Hunt is the teacher all the girls want to screw. Good thing I’m not his student. I only fuck him in my dreams.

I cringe. My stupid brain won’t let that go. He has a blowjob text. I have a sex dream. We’re even, only he doesn’t know it. And he never will.

Swayze: I remember what you looked like with zits. Not the coolest.

Professor: Two. Three zits tops. Your memory is not the greatest.

Swayze: Go be smart. I get to play with the world’s cutest baby. She loves me. Be jealous.

Professor: Incredibly envious of both of you. Have fun!

“Both?”

Morgan kicks and tugs at the nipple, a grin sneaking up her face.

“Why is your daddy envious of you?” I tickle her feet. “Because you get to spend the day with me? That’s crazy.”

It is. Right? I wish I could control my mind, but I can’t. It’s skipping backwards to this morning’s dream.

Stop thinking about that dream!

How did my mind go from Griffin dying to sex with twenty-something Nate? I force my thoughts into all things baby: dirty diapers, spit up, tummy time, stroller walks, naps. Over the next seven hours we do it all. With each passing hour, I become more attached to this little girl. I feel like her mom. It’s not right. I’m not her mom. I never will be her mom. But I’m the mother figure raising her at the moment.

If Nate finds love again, that new person in their lives will not have rocked Morgan to sleep, comforted her during fevers, insisted that her dad hold her more, or made her giggle for the first time. Those are my moments.

I’m not in love with Nate, in spite of my dreams, but I’m in love with Morgan. She doesn’t make me want to have a baby, she makes me want her.

“My mom’s here!” I nuzzle Morgan’s neck, eliciting giggles as I carry her to the door. “Oh … wow … what’s this all about?” My jaw drops.

My mom smiles, so does Sherri, Chloe, Hayley, and Sophie.

“Surprise!” Sophie throws her arms up in the air.

“It’s a huge surprise.” I step back and gesture for them to come inside.

“A little birdie told us you could use lots of company…” Sherri wraps an arm around me for a side hug “…and lots of hugs.”

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.” My mom kisses me on the cheek then steals Morgan. “She’s adorable.”

Chloe, Hayley, and Sophie give me a group hug.

Griffin. He did this. I blink back my emotions. This makes me love him even more and miss him. God … I miss him so much already.

“I can’t believe you’re all here … on a Saturday night. Hayley, you’re giving me a prime night.” I loop my arm around hers and lead everyone to the great room. “I’m not worthy.”

“Griff said he’d be forever indebted to us if we got with your mom and organized a girls’ night. But…” she grins “…we wanted to anyway.”

She pulls away from me as all of them huddle around my mom and Morgan.

“Are you guys here for me or Morgan? Be honest.”

“Both.” Hayley shrugs.

“Well, make sure you wash your hands before touching hers. The professor is a stickler on that.”

“The professor?” Sherri glances over at me.

“Morgan’s dad—my boss—is a professor of anatomy. His name is Nathaniel Hunt, but I like to call him Professor.” And Nate because I know stuff about him, and I’ve had sex with him in my dreams.

Stop going there!

“How’s he doing? He lost his wife didn’t he?” Hayley asks as everyone lines up to wash their hands and play pass the baby.

“He’s doing well, I think. It’s different with a baby. He can’t just move forward and focus on his work or think ahead to finding love again. He’s not just a single guy; he’s a single guy with a baby.”

“And an awesome nanny.” My mom winks at me while handing Morgan to Sherri.

“And that.” I smirk.

“Whoa!” Hayley studies the pictures on the mantel. “Is this the professor?”

I laugh. “Yes.”

“I hope my professors look like him.”

Everyone except me gathers around the mantel.

“He’s handsome,” my mom says.

My mom. I can’t believe the woman who has been unable to think or talk about anything or anyone else except my dad just called another man handsome.

“How old is he?” Sherri leans in closer to the picture.

“Thirty-six.”

“If he shows interest in dating again, you should introduce him to Krista.” Sherri gives a suggestive look to my mom.

I can’t breathe as I wait for my mom to gasp or show some sign of being offended. She’s not over my dad.

Mom bites the corner of her lip. Why is she biting her lip? What is going on here?

“Do you think I could pull off the cougar thing?”

What. The. Fuck?

They’re drooling over Nate. My Nate. Internally I flinch. He’s not actually my Nate, yet he sort of is. It’s complicated. But it’s wrong—so wrong—for them to suggest my mom and him should … what? Date?

I had sex with Nate this morning in my dreams. Yes, so wrong too, but there has to be a universal law against a mother and daughter having sexual thoughts about the same man.

Gross. No. Just … no.

“You don’t look a day older than him. Of course you could pull it off.”

My mom is beautiful, not just for a woman in her forties, for a woman of any age. I hope I look even half as good as her when I reach my forties. But … still no. No Nate for her.

“I don’t think the professor will be ready to date anytime soon. He has a demanding job and a baby. Mom, I think you should look into online dating.”

My shift of topic lures them from the mantel back to the sofa and chairs. Sophie, Hayley, and Chloe steal Morgan and play with her on the floor with her mat and mobile.

“Dr. B suggested that too.”

Good ol’ Dr. Bunz.

“I have several friends who are on dating sites.” Sherri sits next to my mom.

I’m not sure if it’s the best or the worst timing, but my phone rings and it’s the professor.

“I’ll be right back.” I smile and retreat to the bedroom, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“It would seem that in spite of my orthotic shoes, the women you’ve invited into my house find me attractive.”

How did I forget about the stupid spy cameras?

“Cocky isn’t becoming of you, Professor. Besides, we’re talking about my boyfriends’ seventeen-year-old sister who is still in high school and two middle-age women—one is my mom and the other is Griffin’s mom. I’m not sure you can puff your chest out too far just from that.”

“You sound hostile.”

I take a deep breath and chew my thumbnail. Do I really sound hostile? “Why would I be hostile?”

“Maybe it’s just you being protective of me. You’re right. I don’t have time to date or the emotional strength to even think about letting another woman into my life. Between my mother, Morgan, and you, I’m at my limit.”

“Me?” I cough a laugh.

He sighs. “I don’t want to dance around this anymore. Denying it won’t make it go away.”

“Nate—”

“I’m not asking you to do anything more than acknowledge it’s the only logical explanation.”

“Stop, just—” I shake my head and close my eyes, gripping my phone like I hate it, and I need it to shut up.

“You have my best friend trapped inside of you!”

And there it is, out in the open, hanging like smoke, blurring everything, and suffocating me.

“I’m not her,” I whisper.

“You are. I’m sorry you can’t see it. Your memories—”

“I have to go. Stop drinking. It’s messing with your mind.”

“I’m not drink—”

I end the call and fight for air. Where did it go? Who sucked all the oxygen from the room?

Nate did. He’s trying to take things that are not his to take. He can’t have Daisy because she’s dead. He can’t have the air in this room because he’s not here to use it. And he can’t steal my sanity no matter how tiny the thread is that I have left of it.

Laughter crawls toward me. I wipe the emotion from my eyes and turn.

“She filled her pants. We’ll change her diaper.” Hayley, with her sisters in tow, looks from doorway to doorway for the nursery.

I nod toward Morgan’s room. “You’re stealing my job. I may have to share my wages with you.”

“Really?” Sophie asks.

“Sure. I haven’t taken my favorite girls shopping. I think we should plan an outing.”

Sophie claps her hands. “Yes!”

Hayley rolls her eyes at her sister while Chloe tries to act cool, but I don’t miss the excitement pulling at the corners of her lips.

“Everything’s at the changing table. Let me know if you need help.”

“I’ve changed a gazillion diapers. We’ve got this,” Hayley says while laying Morgan on the changing table.

“Make sure one of you is watching her at all times. She could roll off.”

“We’ve got it. Really.”

I nod. I had it too when I was Hayley’s age. But now I have the protectiveness of a mother with Morgan, so I feel compelled to say everything, even the words I shouldn’t have to say.

“What’s for dinner? Are we ordering in?” I ask Mom and Sherri, avoiding the camera in the corner. I refuse to look at it—at him.

“Pizza?” Sherri suggests.

“Works for me.” I glance at my phone.

Professor: Have a good evening. Thank you again for staying.

Why does he make it so hard to be angry with him? I slide my phone in my pocket.

“Sherri said you’re moving.”

Making eye contact with my mom, I grimace, as does Sherri. If Griffin told her, of course she’d assume I told my mom.

Sherri holds up her hands. “In all fairness, I just found out this morning when Griffin called. He asked us to check in with you and to see if you needed help moving anything to his place before he gets back home.”

“I was going to tell you tonight.”

My mom waves me off. “It’s fine. I’m sure you were.” She folds her hands in her lap. “Moving in together. Things must be serious.”

I give Sherri a tight grin. She’s never hidden her love for me. I know there’s nothing she would love more than for Griffin to ask me to marry him. It’s my dream too.

But my mom is more reserved. That’s fair. I’m her only child. She should feel protective of me. The fact that I realize this makes me pretty damn proud of myself.

“I think we’re serious. Most of the time he’s at my apartment or I’m at his house, so it makes sense to just live together and save on rent.”

“So you’re having premarital sex?”

What?

The evil women before me do a stupendous job of keeping serious expressions as I disappear into the chair under their scrutiny.

“Are you serious? You bought me condoms and lubricant for my nineteenth birthday.” I remain unblinking for a few seconds until my mom cracks a smile.

“She did?” Hayley startles me.

I glance back. This conversation is not appropriate for young ears.

“Wow, Mom, and you won’t even let me get a tattoo.”

Sherri rolls her eyes at Hayley. “Letting you get a tattoo won’t prevent you from getting pregnant.”

“So …” I stand. “What kind of pizza does everyone want?”