That had me seeing red. Not at her. At him. At myself.
It was all sitting right there, ready to come out. That she’d been wrong about me. That I’d have chosen her every time. That I hated what he’d put in her head. But she was right, it was too much for one night, and I was too raw to get it right. So, I swallowed it, believing there would be a better time.
“Are you staying? I don’t care if you do, but I don’t want to confuse her. She’s up by seven thirty every morning. The only man she’s been around is Carter.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Skye.” I kissed her temple. “I’ll be on the couch.”
“Mommy, wake up. Look.”
Sugar’s whisper landed right over my face. I cracked an eye open and had to blink twice to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. My baby was standing there in a tiara, a pair of little plastic heels on her feet, her arms loaded down with stuffed animals I’d never seen before. A purple Chanel bag, a real one, hung off her shoulder, stuffed so full of dollar bills it wouldn’t close.
“Is it Christmas?”
“No, silly.” She grinned so wide her cheeks pushed her glasses up. “Daddy got it all for me. He’s downstairs with donuts. I told him I’d come wake you up.”
I propped up on my elbow and looked at her. She was lit all the way up, wobbling on those heels, tiara crooked, talking a mile a minute about donuts and her daddy like the two best words in the world had finally landed in the same sentence. I’d watched her be happy. I’d never seen her like this.
“Sugar.” I pointed toward the purse. “Why is your Chanel bag full of money?”
She looked down at it like she’d forgotten it was there before shrugging.
“Daddy said it’s a nae nae bag.” She hugged it tighter against her little body. “He said a lady should always have her own, so she never has to ask anybody for anything.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
Of course, Ducane Simmons bought our six-year-old a Chanel bag, filled it with cash, and sent her upstairs with financial advice before breakfast. It sounded exactly like something his mother would’ve taught him.
“Daddy is right,” I said.
“I know. Come on, Mommy, we don’t want to keep him waiting. He said he has a busy day today.”
I rolled my eyes with a groan, kissed her on top of her forehead, and ushered her out of my room so I could shower and get myself together.
I’d taken something to help me sleep when I finally got to my room last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face on that beach. The way it changed when I said her name, the hurt that moved through him before he could lock it down. I couldn’t lie there with that on a loop until morning, so I made it stop the only way I could.
I let the water run as hot as I could stand it and stood under it longer than I needed to. The whole night kept playing back, his face, the way Cadence had run to him like she’d been waiting her entire life, the look on him when he held her. He’d stayed. He was downstairs right now with donuts, being a father like he’d been doing it all along. And still, under all of it, I couldn’t shake the fear sitting low in my stomach. He was here for her. That much I knew. What I didn’t know was whether he was here for me, or just close enough to her that I came with the package.
I shut the water off, wrung out my hair, and reached for my towel.
I wrapped myself in it, still half in my own head, and didn’t even notice him at first. He was sitting in the chair in the corner of my room, legs gapped open, watching me with those amber eyes.
I jumped and clutched the towel to my chest.
“Ducane—” I pulled it tighter. “You scared me.”
He smirked. “It’s a bit late to be covering up, Spot. I’ve seen all of that. Several times. And recently.”
“That’s not the point.” I held it anyway. “I haven’t had a man in my room in a long time. This is new for me.”
“A man.” He said it slowly, like he was tasting it, and shook his head. “Your husband.”
I raised a brow. “Oh, is that what this is?”
He stood, and the room shrank the second he decided to take up space in it. He stopped in front of me, close but not touching, and tilted my chin up.
“Look at me, Skye.” His voice dropped. “You’ve always been my wife. You always will be. That part’s not up for discussion.” I swallowed, my throat tight, and he kept going. “Right now, I’m working through my shit, and I know you want to talk. I know you got a hundred things you need to say. We’ll get there. But first, I need to just be here. Be a real fixture in this house, with her, with you, before we crack everything open. Let me have that.”
“Okay, I’m not going to push.”