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  I tickle him under his chin, making him smile. Ashlyn always loved that, too. “That’s a great name, little guy.”

  “I wanted to name him Clark Preston, but she insisted on Clark Beauregard.” He chuckles as he says my son’s name. My name.

  This dickhead has a bigger place in my son’s life than me. Infuriating.

  I hate this douche nozzle. I want him out of our son’s life. And Anna James’s. I will make that happen.

  I offer my hand to this jackass, but not as a friendly gesture. I want him to know whom he’s dealing with. “I’m Beauregard Emerson, Clark Beauregard’s father.” This may be the first time I’ve ever voluntarily introduced myself using that name.

  He looks from me to Peach and back again, clearly confused by what’s happening. But maybe he’ll put his thinking cap on and figure it out.

  That’s right. Keep pondering about it, pal, and you’ll figure out whose bed she was in last night while she disappeared for hours.

  “Preston Mitchell, Anna’s fiancé.” He tries to play it cool, but his poker face is shit. The bastard is scared. And he should be; I’m taking back what belongs to me.

  Anna James reaches for Clark. “We have to go now.”

  I relinquish my hold on Clark. And it kills me. I don’t want to let him go.

  His hold is tight on my thumb so Peach must break his grip. “Bye, little buddy. I will see you again, soon.”

  I lean in for a hug while Preston is gathering their bags. I whisper in Peach’s ear. “We are unfinished business.”

  She looks at me wide-eyed.

  “We have to talk about this. And him. There are a lot of important decisions to make concerning this little guy.”

  “This is going to be a busy week for me, but I’ll call so we can make arrangements to get together.”

  Under no circumstances was I ready to see her walk out on me last night, but watching the woman I love and our son disappear out the door with another man is brutal. It’s taking everything in me to keep my feet planted and not go after them.

  When I’m back in my suite, I fall onto the bed and stare at the ceiling in pure wonder. I’m hugely pissed off at Anna James for keeping our son from me, but my anger is masked by delight.

  I take out my phone and flip through the pictures of me holding little Clark. Now, I understand the dedication in the book when she thanked me for the gift I gave her. She was talking about Clark.

  And the inscription in the book. I see your face every day. She was referencing seeing my face in our son’s.

  He’s true and beautiful. So, will she still have a place for me in her life?

  I loved her before I knew about our son, but now he changes everything. I’m twice as vested because the stakes have doubled.

  Mistakes have been made through misunderstandings, but Clark isn’t a mistake.

  * * *

  It’s been the longest seven days of my life, and watching my girl and my son walk out of that hotel was soul destroying. But today, I see them. Alone.

  I’m happy, but nerves and excitement battle inside my stomach for dominance. Right now, nerves are winning.

  She wants to talk about Clark. Of course I want that, too. We have a ton of decisions to make, but I also plan to address our relationship beyond parenting.

  Peach greets me at the door. She’s courteous but standoffish. I bet Preston’s here.

  “Nice house.”

  “Thanks. Have any problems finding it?”

  “Nope. Navigation brought me straight here.”

  I follow her through the foyer to the living room. I’m a real estate agent. I evaluate everyone’s home, whether I intend to or not. The things I know by looking at Peach’s home are these: One, she, or someone on staff, keeps her house more organized than she kept our suite in Jamaica. Two, her book has been successful; this isn’t a cheap house.

  “Want something to drink?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  I immediately spot Clark on a quilt on the floor. “We were having tummy time.”

  I sit on the pallet’s edge. “Hey, little guy. How are you?”

  “Cranky,” I hear a man call out from another room.

  Damnit. Dickhead is here. That throws all kinds of wrenches in my plans for today. I thought we’d be alone.

  But I can’t say I blame him. If my fiancée’s hot and sexy ex was coming over, I wouldn’t leave either. I have baby-daddy status. He’ll probably want to ensure that doesn’t happen again.

  “Thank you for letting me see him today.” I want her to know I’m grateful. I realize she doesn’t have to voluntarily do this. She could be forcing me to drag her into court.

  “It’ll need to be a short visit. Anna has plans,” the asshole, again, calls out from another room where I can’t see him. It’s like he’s wants me to know he’s eavesdropping.

  A streak of brown and gold rubs up next to me. “What is that thing? A baby leopard?”

  Peach laughs. “That’s Kermit. He’s a Bengal.”

  “As in tiger?”

  “No. As in domesticated house cat.”

  I lift Clark from the floor and lie on my back, placing him on my chest. “I think he’s grown since I saw him a week ago.”

  “He’s about to nurse me dry; he’s in the middle of a growth spurt. I had to buy him twelve months clothes this week because he’s outgrowing everything he has.”

  “He probably gets that from me. I was always big for my age.”

  “Pff,“ echoes from the other room. Asshole.

  “When was he born?”

  “April ninth. He just turned five months.”

  No way. “You’ve got to be kidding, Peach.”

  “I’m not.”

  Of course, she’d have no way of knowing since we never talked about it. “Clark was born on my birthday.”

  Her eyes light up as a smile spreads widely. “That’s exceptionally cool since he was three days overdue, and I had to push forever. They thought I was going to need a C-section, but then he finally popped out two minutes after midnight. On your birthday. I can’t believe that.”

  The best gift ever, even if I wasn’t there.

  “It’s like he was waiting to be born the same day as his dad.” The more I learn about him, the more I realize he’s more and more like me. I love that.

  There’s a sudden crash from the mysterious room, followed by a rustling. Preston appears out of nowhere. “I have to go to work. Walk me to the door?”

  “Sure.”

  I use Clark’s hand to wave at Mr. Fiancé. “See ya later, Preston.” Too bad you have to leave me here alone with Peach.

  “We’re teaching him to call me Dad. Not Preston.”

  Bull-fucking-shit. My son will not be calling any other man anything remotely close to that.

  Peach goes to the front door with the asshole. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but I’m guessing he kissed the fuck out of her since her mouth is glossy and slightly reddened when she returns.

  I’m here to talk parenting, so the first thing on my agenda is bringing up what they’re teaching Clark. “You have to know it’s not okay with me for my son to call him Dad.”

  “Preston’s been in Clark’s life since before he was born. You showed up last week.”

  “Because you didn’t give me a fucking choice!” I realize I’m raising my voice so I look at Clark to see if I’ve upset him. Little buddy is fast asleep. That was fast.

  I get up from the floor. “He’s out. Where’s his nursery?”

  He’s only five months old, but I don’t want him in the room while we’re talking in case things get heated.

  She points to a doorway. “Second one on the left.”

  I take him into his bedroom and place him in his crib. His thumb instantly goes into his mouth. I laugh because I was a thumb-sucker, too.

  I go back to the living room and sit on the sofa next to Peach. I’ve calmed down a little.

  “Does Preston live her
e?” The thought of him spending as much time as he likes with my son, while I’ve not been given the option, irritates the fuck out of me.

  “No.”

  “But he spends a lot of time here?”

  “Yes.” That means he gets to be with Clark while I’m left to fuck off.

  “You know I wasn’t in his life because you kept him from me. You can’t imagine how it makes me feel to know I’ve missed the first five months of his life while some other man got to have that time with him. It hurts like hell, Peach. Why did you do that to me?” I told her how I felt when Erin stole my choice from me. I don’t understand how she could do the same.

  “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, but what kind of mother would I be if I brought a baby into this?”

  “What are you referring to when you say this?”

  “Your lifestyle. Polyamory. It’s no place to raise a baby, even if it’s only on a part-time basis. I don’t want Clark growing up around that kind of life.”

  Polyamory living may not be ideal for raising a child, but she doesn’t get to be the judge, deciding I don’t get to be part of Clark’s life. “He’s mine, too. You had no right to keep him from me.”

  “I was protecting him. That’s what a good mother does.”

  I’m picking up what she’s laying down. “You were protecting him from me? Because you think I’m unfit?”

  “I don’t think you’re unfit. I’m sure you’d make an excellent father. But I do consider poly life unsuitable for my child.”

  I interrupt to correct her. “Our child.”

  “Yes. Our child is going to grow up, see the way you live, and ask questions. I don’t want to have to explain why Daddy sleeps with two girlfriends.” No. I don’t want that either.

  I already love my son, and one of the greatest gifts I’ll ever give him is to love his mother. And I do. Wholeheartedly.

  “They’re gone. Both of them. I ended it for you and Clark.”

  “Until the next two come along.”

  “There’s never going to be another two. But I am hoping for one. You, Peach.”

  She’s silent. Does that mean she’s thinking it over? Or coming up with a way to tell me to fuck off? I can’t tell.

  “Erin wanted it, not me. And the girls you saw . . . they meant nothing. I met them at a club; they were a package deal. I missed you like fucking crazy but couldn’t move on to a relationship with one woman. I didn’t have it in me to care enough when you owned my heart. I’m done with poly relationships. Forever.” I mean that.

  “You shouldn’t make promises you might not keep.”

  I’ve thought about this all week and there’s no confusion. “I know which life I want—and it’s the one with you and Clark.”

  “Clark is your son. I’m his mother, but that doesn’t make us a couple.”

  “I think we can make it work, Peach. We are incredible together. You know we are. And I want to raise our son together.”

  “We were incredible for nine days in Jamaica. Anyone could be great in a vacation setting without responsibilities. But this is real life. Totally different scenario. We have no idea if we’d even tolerate one another in this environment.”

  “I damn sure want to find out.”

  “I’m engaged to Preston.”

  That’s fixable. “You can get unengaged.”

  “I spent eight days with you. Preston has been around for a while.”

  “A while? As in you started dating him while you were pregnant with my child?” Fucking stunned. I can’t believe she was over me so quickly, that she could move on like we never happened. Did our week together mean so little?

  “No. Preston and I were just friends while I was pregnant. I couldn’t even consider being with a man. We didn’t begin dating until after Clark was born.”

  “And you’re already engaged?” That’s too fast.

  “He proposed two weeks ago; we’re newly engaged. I know it must sound like it happened really fast, but we were very close friends before. It’s not as though we didn’t know one another.” It’s a reminder she knows him better than she knows me.

  “Do you love him?” I ask the question, knowing all along her affirmation will kill me.

  “Of course I do. I’m marrying him.” Not if I have anything to do with it.

  “Tell me one thing. What have you thought or fantasized about every night this week in the moments before you fell asleep?”

  She looks down at her hands in her lap and doesn’t reply. I’m noticing she usually doesn’t answer the hard questions. Can’t even look me in the eyes to deny it.

  “You don’t have to answer that. I already know.” Her chest rises a little higher and falls harder. Her mouth is slightly open, her breathing louder. “You’re thinking about us right now.”

  “I’m not.” She’s blushing. Gives her away every time.

  “I bet you’re picturing yourself on your hands and knees and I’m pounding into you from behind. Tell me, Peach. Am I fucking your pussy or your ass?”

  “Stop, Beau.”

  “I bet you’re soaking wet right now.” What I wouldn’t give to touch her and confirm what I already know is true.

  She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and closes her eyes. She shakes her head. “No.”

  Clark’s asleep and probably won’t be waking anytime soon, so I’m going to take full advantage. I scoot closer. I trace her lips with my fingertips, imagining them going down on me.

  I kiss the side of her neck beneath her earlobe. She lets me, but I won’t push too hard. I need her to see she wants this. Us.

  I rub her thigh, moving it up her leg slowly. “Tell me what you want. You know I’ll give you anything you ask for.”

  She’s shaking her head again. “I’m no better than Drake if I let you keep going. I can’t do it.”

  “I think you can. In fact, we both know you already have.”

  My hand is at her mid-thigh. Climbing higher. “Do you want me to touch you?”

  “We shouldn’t do this. It’s wrong.” She drops her head against the back of her sofa and covers her face with both hands. “Shit. I didn’t have you come over for this. We’re supposed to be deciding on a parenting plan.”

  “We will. Later.”

  That’s right, baby. Keep squeezing those thighs together and releasing them. Not because you’re locking me out; I know what you’re doing. Work that seam in your shorts against your clit.

  I suck her earlobe into my mouth. “Tell me everything you want.”

  She stops writhing and grabs my face. Her eyes lock on mine. “Touch me. Lick me. Fuck me. All of the above.” Now, that’s what I’m talking about.

  I crush my mouth against hers. “I love . . . how greedy . . . you are.”

  I move my hand to her crotch and rub her through her shorts. “God, Beau. This is wrong on so many levels.”

  “Let’s pretend it isn’t.” Because it feels so very right to me.

  I don’t want her to think. Only to feel.

  I take my hand from her crotch and slip it down the front of her shorts. My fingers find her slick slit. “I guessed right. You were definitely thinking about us.”

  I flick my finger back and forth over her clit, but my hand is a tight fit inside her shorts. It’s not very conducive for rubbing her off so I take my hand out. I yank the button of her shorts open, push down the zipper, and put my hand back inside her panties. A much better fit.

  She wraps her hand around my wrist and rides my hand. “Make me come, Beau. I need it so bad.”

  “I’m going to take care of you, baby. I always do.”

  It may kill me, but I have to know. “Have you been with him since you fucked me?” Please say no.

  She grasps the back of my neck and brings me forward so our foreheads are pressed together. “No. I couldn’t.”

  She releases me and extends her hand over her head, grabbing the back of the sofa. She thrusts her pelvis upward. “Omigod. Right there, Beau. Don’t stop.” T
his is mine. She’s mine. Not his. I own her orgasms. Not him.

  Anna James has always been incredibly responsive to my touch. “You love it when I rub you off, don’t you?”

  I pull back. I have to watch her come.

  “Yes!” Her eyes are shut tightly, and she’s biting her bottom lip as her head thrashes from side to side. Panting. “It’s starting.”

  She’s squeezing my wrist tight and arching higher. I have to stand up and reposition so she doesn’t hyperextend my hand. Or break it. “Oh. Oh. Uhh.”

  She turns her face into her arm to stifle the scream threatening to escape. I’m afraid she’ll shout and wake Clark so I lean down. “Kiss me.”

  After she turns to face me, my mouth possesses hers. I swallow every one of her moans of pleasure.

  She suddenly jolts. “Shit. What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “I heard a car door slamming.” She dashes off the sofa and fastens her shorts only moments before Preston comes through the front door.

  “Forgot the papers . . . I was grading.” He stops short when he sees Peach looking like a deer in headlights. “Is something going on here?”

  “You startled me. I wasn’t expecting you.” She definitely looks freaked out.

  Dammit. I wish he’d have come home five minutes later and got an eyeful of what Peach looks like when she’s being fucked over the arm of the sofa.

  “Where’s Clark?”

  “Napping.”

  Preston briefly disappears and then returns with a stack of papers. Fucker totally left those on purpose so he could come back and see what we were up to. Fine by me. If he keeps trying to catch Peach and me doing something he won’t approve, he’ll eventually be successful.

  Peach comes into the living room after he’s gone a second time. “That was wrong, and it can’t happen again.”

  “Agreed. Because I won’t keep fucking another man’s fiancée.” That’s why I have to get Preston out of her life.

  She sits in the chair across from me and puts her head in her hands. “I’m a horrible person.”

  “Not true. Not even a little. And no matter what you have going on in your head, I’m with you, and I love you. Always.”

  Peach loves me. I know she does, but she’s letting him stand in the way.