Wet

That afternoon she texts to say he tried again. What the fuck? And what the hell can I do about it? I call her to tell her just to get through the day and we’ll figure out how to deal with him later. Once I’m assured she’s calmer, I throw myself back into my library garden project that has a deadline looming, hoping it can get my mind off things.

When I finally leave the office, I text Elle and tell her I’m picking up di

She pulls open her front door before I even ring the doorbell. “You’re here!” She gives me a hug before pulling the bag out of my arms. “I’m starving.”

“Did you eat today?” I ask as I follow her in. I’m glad to see her spirit is good.

She makes a face, scrunching up her nose. “Does a smoothie for breakfast and protein bar for lunch count?”

“Elle,” I say in a stern voice.

“Oh, and I had a yogurt and some almonds when I got home.”

“You’re so L.A.” I point to the kitchen table. “Sit down, I’ve got this.”

She grins and winks. “Okay, Mister Bossy Pants.”

“Well, someone needs to take care of you.”

She leans on her elbow, cupping her chin with her hand as she watches me with a tender expression. I divide up the soup, and dig spoons out of the silverware drawer.

“You sure have a lot of stuff in here,” I remark after noticing how packed all the cupboards and drawers are.

“I like cooking and entertaining,” she says as she checks the soup to see how hot it is.

“Do you cook that much?”

“Not as much as I’d like to. I used to dream of having a kitchen full of friends and family.”

I let my gaze wander through the kitchen and into the adjoining dining room as I consider what’s behind what she just said. It’s like she’s set the stage for what she hoped her life to one day be. The way she described the begi

She has a great three-bedroom house with a barbeque, garden, and fire pit perfect for s’mores. It’s near good schools with tricycle-friendly sidewalks, yet when I leave tonight she will be completely and utterly alone.

It occurs to me that what she desired her future to be isn’t much different than what I’ve intended to find. The difference is that I was still searching when I met her, and she thought she’d found it with her ex, only to lose the dream and stop hoping that it even can exist for her.

I’m not actually hungry but I force myself to dig into the soup so she follows suit. I roll my eyes internally realizing that I’ve turned into my Irish mother wanting to make sure she’s fed.

She starts eating and I’m relieved to see she seems happy with her di

“What?” Her eyes are wide like I caught her doing something naughty.

I shrug. “Nothing. It’s just fun watching you eat.”

She eats all her soup and a blintz before her eyes start to droop.

“Poor baby, you’re so tired,” I say.

She nods as she lets out a long sigh. “Hey, we were going to talk about what to do with the Viking.”

I can’t help fighting back a smile. It’s the first time I’ve heard her refer to him that way and I love it. “Fuck the Viking, you need to rest,” I say with more force than I’d intended.

She bites her lip as she studies me. “You’re so sexy when you’re mad.”

I shake my head and look down. “I’m mad all right. You rest tonight and we can work it out tomorrow.”

When she stands she wobbles before pushing away from the table. I take her by the shoulders. “Steady, now.”

She nods. “If you don’t mind, I think I better get ready for bed. I’m going to crash any minute.”

Does this mean I get to put her to bed? I hope so. I can only imagine what Elle sleeps in. I imagine it isn’t much, coverage wise.

She emerges from the bathroom with her face scrubbed pink and a minimal sleep garment. It looks like she’s pulled on a short slip for a twelve year old. It falls dangerously high on her toned thighs and the thin strap keeps slipping off one of her shoulders. I have to look away as I focus on doing the alphabet backwards.

“Am I tucking you in?” I ask, trying not to focus on the way her bare breasts look draped in silk.

“Tucking?” The corners of her mouth turn up.

I nod and narrow my eyes at her. “You heard me correctly.”

“Too bad. I thought you said something else.” She rubs her hands over her face. “I guess it’s just as well, I’m exhausted.”

I follow her into the bedroom watching the silk skim her ass as she walks.

Even in her exhaustion and despair this woman is really something. I’ve been reduced to such a sap because everything about her is beautiful to me.

Lifting up the cover, she slides down between the sheets. When she’s settled I smooth the blankets down and sit on the edge of the bed.

She gazes up at me with her sleepy eyes and rests her hand on my knee. “You’re amazing . . . such a catch. I still can’t figure out why some awesome girl hasn’t snagged you yet.”

I smile at her. “Maybe I’m difficult to snag.”

“Hmm. No doubt.”

“I can tell you that hooking up is a hell of a lot different than dating. Dating is much more complicated.”

She sighs. “I think it’s all complicated, even when you try to keep it simple.”

“In L.A., hook-ups are a dime a dozen, but someone real who I know would stand by me through thick and thin is hard to find.” I say.

“As you know, when my marriage collapsed I was intrigued with the idea of hook-ups.” She slides her hand under her head and pulls her hair out until it fans over the pillow.

“Why, Elle? Why just hook-ups? Was it really only about control?”

“I don’t know. I guess my heart and ego were so bruised by Daniel that I couldn’t imagine making myself that vulnerable again. I just needed to feel that I could turn someone on as much as they could turn me on. Is that awful?”

I shake my head. “No, not at all. I just think you deserve more.”

She rubs her hand over her belly. “Well even if I was willing to risk my heart again, no one is going to want me now.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Regardless, it doesn’t matter. Now that that part of my life is over I realize that hooking up wasn’t the thrill I thought it’d be either.”

“You sound like you’re done with it.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Well, of course I am. How does a working woman with an infant do hook-ups?”

“Babysitters?” I ask, testing her.

She shakes her head. “Are you serious? I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to. I’m done with all that. I deleted Tinder off my phone.”

I have to steady myself, the flood of relief surging through me almost knocks me off my feet.

“Do you think you’ll ever go back to hooking up?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No way. I didn’t like myself much during those years. It’s just much easier getting myself off and not feeling like an asshole all the time.”

She coughs and her cheeks flush pink.

“You okay?”

She bites her lip. “Oh man, don’t do that! Don’t casually mention you getting yourself off without giving me a warning or something.” She pushes the covers down to her waist and moans. “Now I’m all worked up and hot.”

“What? You know I take care of myself. We’ve talked about it.”

“We’ve sexted about it . . . not talked about it when you’re here in the flesh sitting on the edge of my bed.”

Sighing, she turns onto her side so she’s facing me. “You need to distract me. Tell me a bedtime story.”

“What kind of bedtime story?”