Page 109 of Sweet Distraction

Willow and Poppy are running through the grass in front of me.

For a second, I don’t move. I forget the chaos in my head that the call I’m expecting is creating. The distraction allows me to just sit on the bench, elbows on my knees, and watch them like my life’s on the other side of a movie screen.

Two people who weren’t part of my every day . . . hell, my life, not long ago and now who . . . I don’t know what.

Who I don’t see living my life without.

The thought is there. It’s subtle. It’s terrifying.

At least, Poppy, right? Because I’m not ready to be thinking shit like that about Willow.

And yet . . .

I scrub a hand over my face. This is fucking crazy talk. Crazy talk expedited by unusual circumstances like living in the same house, the same hotel, as the woman you’re sleeping with.

But Willow’s laugh draws me back. She’s barefoot, holding Poppy’s hand as they chase bubbles blown from some tiny wand she pulled from her damn tote bag of tricks she carries around that seems to solve all problems. Poppy shrieks, her rabbit’s tucked under one arm, her curls bounce with every step, and determination is written all over her face like she’s on a mission to catch every single one.

They’re beautiful.

And beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache and constrict simultaneously.

Willow turns and catches me watching. She grins and winks.

Yep. I’m fucked.

And not just in the way that makes my balls tighten and wants to fuck. It’s as though the something that’s been missing from my life seems not to be missing anymore.

Yeah, I’m definitely fucked.

My phone rings and yanks me from my thoughts.

“Hey, Sandra.”

“Gavin.”

I already hate her tone. “Why do you sound like that?”

“It doesn’t exactly look good, bode well, what-the-hell-ever you want to call it, that you’re fucking the nanny.”

I wince as I glance back at Willow and Poppy, “Who said I was?”

“Rocket,” she says and sighs. “It doesn’t matter whether you are or you aren’t. It matters what public perception is. Not that it’s any of my business, but are you?”

I stare down at my boots, scuffed and half-buried in mulch. Fuck.

“Your silence says it all.”

“I have a daughter. I have a nanny. Both are on tour with me.”

“So your PR team has told the world, but how do you think that’s going to look on the stand when Willow goes to vouch for you in the custody hearing? Do you think her word is going to hold any weight? The young nanny dazzled by the rock star?”

I clench my jaw. “Why does there even have to be a hearing? Olivia stated that I was Poppy’s father. The paternity test proved it. She also listed me as legal guardian to our daughter. Why do her grandparents get to even file for custody?”

“Because they’re claiming you’re not fit to parent.”

“Fuck that.”

“Hence, the nanny and her word needing to hold weight.”