Page 52 of Let's Be Forever

I stop in my tracks, and my brows pinch in. “I don’t need you buying me anything.”

“I couldn’t just bring Rosie something,” he supplies, like that should be common sense.

“You can. She’s your daughter. I’m just the person you share a?—”

“Anna.” His jaw tics. “You are the mother of my daughter, the person who gave birth to our daughter. If I want to buy you something, I’m going to do it.” His answer is nonnegotiable.

And again, I hate how memories surface, squeezing past my already weak walls. I’m reminded of when we were fake dating, when he wanted to buy me a candle and paid for my dress that I ended up selling because I desperately needed money.

While I caved easily back then, I’m not going to do that now.

“I won’t accept it,” I firmly reply, propping my hands on my hips.

“No?” A sardonic smirk curves his mouth.

I narrow my eyes at him. “No.”

“You’re really going to turn down Sylvester’s cheesecake?” He digs into the bag and draws out a plastic container with two large slices of cheesecake and a container that I know without a doubt has a homemade caramel sauce. “Because if so I can give it to Marc. You know how much he loves Sylvester’s.”

Sylas and I were strolling the streets of New York when it started pouring out of nowhere. We found shelter in Sylvester’s, a little bakery that has been there for over fifty years now.

While we waited for the weather to clear, we bought a few things. Everything was so good, but our favorite was the cheesecake and homemade caramel sauce. After that date, we went every couple of weeks until he left for Colorado and me to France.

I don’t want itis what should leave my mouth, but instead I say, “I hate you. If you give it to Marc, I’m going to cut you.”

He smiles triumphantly, placing everything back in the bag, and follows me into the living room. “You hate me?” He doesn’t sound offended, but rather amused by my statement.

“Yes,” I answer flatly.

“What else do you feel for me?” The smile in his voice makes my eye twitch.

“Like I want to strangle you if you don’t shut up.”

“I mean…I wouldn’t be opposed to?—”

“No, shut up.” My cheeks warm as another memory flashes in my head, something I hadn’t thought about in a while. My hands wrapped around his neck as I rode him. I didn’t mean to choke him, didn’t realize how much we’d both be into it until my hands were on him and he was moaning for me to squeeze harder. “Don’t give my cheesecake away. How did you even get it anyway?”

He smirks. “I paid to have someone bring it. It was made this morning. So was the sauce.”

Rosie is still playing in the same spot, but when she hears Sylas, her head snaps up and her eyes sparkle. She’s just met him, yet she acts like she’s known him all her life. And he stares at her with stars in his eyes, a deep fondness that can’t be faked.

“Hola!” She jumps to her feet and runs to him.

He drops to his knees as she nears him, but her giddy excitement triples when her gaze veers to the bag he set on the floor.

“Hola querida.” He spreads his arms wide but doesn’t pull her in, letting her decide whether that’s something she wants.

Querida?Cheesecake? Fuck my life, this can’t be happening. Why is he so…so good?

She accepts his embrace happily, but that only lasts for a second before she’s making herself comfortable on his lap, eyeing the bag.

Rosie looks so at ease with him, and he looks like he’s on top of the world.

She’s rambling about her toys and what she wants to do with them. Some of her words aren’t clear, but he nods, listening intently. And when he’s confused, when he can’t understand her, he repeats the word and lets her correct him.

And because Rosie is impatient, desperate to see what’s in the bag, she takes it upon herself to pull things out. Brand-new kitchen toys and pretend food and a tiny bag that holds a little dog.

She loves dogs. Anytime we go on walks, she always stops and stares, and we only pet after we’ve asked the owner if it’s okay. She also barks, but we’re working on that because anytime she sees one, she does so loudly.