Page 74 of Let's Be Forever

I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until now. Or how much more confident I feel.

“Yeah, text or call me for anything. You have my number.”

Just a week ago, I was coming home at the end of the day to silence. The quiet became too much, and whatever I was feeling was irrelevant as I’d grab my cigarettes and head to the terrace. I’d smoke one, and a few minutes later, I’d find myself smoking another.

But now as I step off the elevator, I have no desire to do that, despite the anxiety I feel in my bones. The quiet days are long behind me as I hear music in the background, the sound of Rosie’s dog, and Anna chatting away to our daughter.

I saw her this morning, but we didn’t talk about what happened. In fact, I know she’d rather pretend it didn’t. But Idon’t want to do that. I can’t. Not when I came last night as I stared at the wet spot on my thigh.

When I enter the kitchen, Anna’s there, placing a small piece of food in Rosie’s mouth.

“Mmm good.” She chews and bounces in her spot. “I want more.”

“That smells really good,” I announce, standing on the other side of the island.

“Sy!” Rosie bolts over to me.

I round the island, crouch down, and spread my arms. She jumps into them, wrapping her tiny fists around my neck. “Hola querida.” I stand, kissing the top of her head. “What are you eating?”

“Chicken.” She bears a toothy grin. I note the crumbs and oil that shine around her mouth, and when she pulls back, I see her hands haven’t fared any better.

“Oh yeah?” My gaze flickers to her mom who watches us with a tender expression on her beautiful face. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey,” she replies, cracking a small smile. “I made chicken parmesan. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” My gaze dips to her mouth. I don’t mean to wet my lips, to think of hers on mine, imagine them on me again—tasting, savoring, feeling them.

“I’ll serve you a plate. We’re about to eat.”

Rosie pushes her arms to my chest. “I want down.”

When I do as she demands, she goes back to her mom, asking for another piece of chicken. I approach, standing next to her.

“What can I help with?” I want nothing more than to press her back to my front like I used to when we were in college.

“You can sit Rosie in her chair, and grab forks and drinks.”

“Is Maya going to eat?”

“No, she’s out and told me not to wait for her.”

I nod, picking Rosie up again. “God, how I’ve missed your cooking. I can’t wait to eat. Don’t be surprised if this doesn’t make it past tomorrow.”

I catch her smiling before I set to work. When we’re sitting down, my lips stretch wide. Rosie is busy stuffing her mouth, and Anna is silent as she cuts into her chicken.

“Are you going to eat or keep staring at me? Your food is getting cold.” A small divot creases between her brows.

“I’m going to do both,” I snark, and twirl a forkful of pasta.

She huffs a fatigued breath. “Sylas.”

“Anna.”

“Can you stop what you’re doing?”

“What am I doing?”

“Flirting or…whatever.”