The Hero and the Fat Girl (New Hampshire Bears #3) (12 page)

I call Jackson’s voicemail, leaving word I wouldn’t be in. Yes, he’ll be upset, but I’m not leaving Remington and Arabella today. I usually have a therapy appointment on Monday, but I’m not sure if I’ll make it today.

“Your boss is going to be mad.” Remington takes the clean, wet dish from me, dries it, and places it in the cupboard.

“I’m going to be here. This is where I need to be.” I hand him another plate. “She was shaking in my arms so hard yesterday. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Maxima, you did exactly the right thing. I’m the one who looked like an ass.”

“Why would you say that?” I turn off the water as I hand him the last plate.

“I should have acted like an adult and just not shouted so much.”

“You were upset. She showed up, completely unannounced, to tell at you she plans to get Arabella back.” I dry my hands by pulling the towel from his. “You’re an amazing father and even better man.”

“A man who lied to you.” He presses his body lightly against mine. It’s not forced, and I’m not panicking.

I want him.

“Yes.” My voice betrays me. “You did, but I told you I understood, and I’m still here.” I try to breathe normally, but I fail at it.

He’s truly the only man to ever make me feel this way. I’m desperate for him to kiss me. Right here. Right now. I lick my lips in preparation for his; instead, my cell phone rings.

I groan as I look at the display: Jackson.

“You better answer it.” Remington steps back from me.

“Hi Jackson,” I answer, still gazing into Remington’s dark eyes.

“Maxima, I just heard your message, and it’s unacceptable.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get in this office. Now,” he orders with a deep growl. “This is a serious situation you’ve put me in. You think you can just call off whenever you feel it necessary. Well, you’re wrong. Get here. Now.”

I can’t form a single word at the moment. He’s ordering me like some dog. Heck, I treat dogs better than he’s treating me.

There are many times I just roll over and let people walk over me. I know I do it, but then there are times, especially when I’m backed in a corner, I let my survival instincts take over.

This is one of those times.

“Jackson, let me explain how personal time works. It’s personal, and I can use it as I see fit. If you don’t like it, then might I suggest you get with HR and have it changed in the handbook? I’ll see you tomorrow at my usual arrival time. Have a nice Monday.”

I end the call, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. I hate yelling at people, but at times, it’s needed.

“Are you okay?” Remington takes my hand.

“Yes,” I answer, opening my eyes. “I’m not going to the office today. However, I do need to go to Caryn’s.”

“Who’s that?”

“My therapist.”

He nods.

“I don’t miss appointments with her. I won’t be long.”

“I understand. I hope…” he trails off with a deeply saddened expression.

“What? What is it?”

“I hope you know you can trust me. I’m a great listener. I would never tell anyone.”

Deep down, I know he’s telling the truth. Remington isn’t a bad guy. I wouldn’t be here if I thought he was, but telling him my past is something I can’t handle right now. Just knowing Rickie has a private investigator has put me on edge enough.

“Someday,” is the only response I can give him. Well, I could say a lot more, but I refuse to.

Caryn’s eyes are wide. I just spilled out everything that has happened since our last session. Jackson. My breakdown. Remington’s lie. Rickie. The private investigator. All of it. I’m surprisingly calm as I tell her my decision to stay with Remington, even though he’d lied.

“Maxima, of all my clients, you would have been the last one I thought would stay. He lied—because he wants to date you. It’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of things, too.”

“For some reason, and I can’t explain it, I feel safe with him.”

“Do you love him?”

“I can’t love him.” I shake my head. “He will leave me if I ever tell him about my past. No matter what he says, he won’t want my baggage. It’ll be too much for him and he needs to focus on his daughter.”

“But you do love him,” she matter-of-factly states. “You may not want to admit it right now, but you do.”

I stand and pace the room. “Caryn, I’ve never doubted anything you’ve ever said or made me do, but this time you’re wrong.”

As I continue my walk around the room, I truly analyze my emotions and feelings. Remington is a hot looking guy. I’m not blind to the fact. Nor is any other woman in a hundred mile radius. However, looks aren’t everything.

Remington is a caring and loving person. These two go hand-in-hand. Again, I’ve seen firsthand how he treats his daughter, his mother, and even me. He held me without a second thought as I sobbed on his chest. It’s dear, how kind and sweet he really is.

Remington said he loved me. But this is just a mix-up on his part. He’s confusing gratitude for my gesture with love. It also could be because of the time we’ve spent together. Maybe he loves me as a friend? It can be easy to confuse the two. Maybe he loves me in a motherly-type way because of my relationship with Arabella. Again, very easy to confuse the two. He’s obviously looking for a mother for his daughter.

A sudden pain stabs my heart. I love Arabella. It’s true. There’s no way I can deny that nor do I even want to. Do I care for Remington? No doubt in my mind, I do. I truly wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing now if I didn’t care for him.

Could I love him?

Could is such a big word for me at this point. I’ve never truly loved anyone. I hated and loathed
him
and
her
. There isn’t even a minute ounce of anything but hatred for them.

But here is this guy.

A guy who makes me smile, laugh, and even feel pretty. Strangely enough, he wants to date me. However, he doesn’t scare me. He’s just more.

So much more.

When I leave Caryn’s office, I go to my house. I love my house. It’s small, but it’s mine. A small ranch style, two bedrooms, one bath, and a simple yard. I thought one day I’d get a dog or cat, but not yet.

The house smells clean when I walk in. I love the smell of a clean house. A simple hint of lavender and bleach. To some, it’s weird, but it’s calming to me.
Her
house smelled like vodka and puke. It’s a smell I hate, and it can easily bring on a panic attack.

I check around the house, and everything seems to be fine. I curl up in my bed and stare up at the ceiling. I always thought my bed comfortable. It’s a full-size bed. Just for me. Nonetheless, I’m sitting here noticing the pillows don’t have Remington’s scent or the fluffiness of his king-size pillow-top bed.

For a split second, this doesn’t feel like home to me. I’m missing the sounds of the Rosin’s home. My home.

My home?

I close my eyes and take several deep breaths as my heart begins to race and my palms sweat. My mind has been racing all day, and I need to focus and clear my head.

Long ago, Caryn told me about meditation, to which I laughed, but from time-to-time, I do it. I roll onto my back, aligning my body straight. I take a deep breath, calming my mind of the random thoughts first. I release that breath and relax my body. I continue this process until I only hear the sounds of my breathing.

Somehow, I fell asleep, and when I wake, I almost pause, thinking it’d all been a dream, but when I pick up my phone, I know it’s real.

Twenty-two missed text messages.

Ten missed phone calls.

All from Remington.

I’ve been asleep for several hours. I get out of my bed, smooth the wrinkles from the covers, grab my purse and keys, and head home.

When I walk into the house, my eyes land on Remington, who’s resting his elbows on his knees, hunched over with his head in his hands. My stomach drops. Something must be wrong with Arabella.

“Remington?”

He pops his head up, and it’s clear from his bloodshot eyes, he’s been crying. In a flash, he jumps up and races over to me. He wraps his big arms around me and holds me tight, burying his head in my hair. He pulls back, cups my face, and before I can blink, his lips are on mine.

This is where I want to be.

I hold tightly to his biceps as his tongues sweeps into my mouth. Our soft moans mix in perfect harmony.

“Max,” Arabella’s cry from the bottom of the stairs causes Remington and I to jump apart, just in time for me to catch her in my arms.

“Dad said you left, and he didn’t know when you were coming back. Is it because of me? Have I been bad?”

Talk about having your heart ripped out. “Honey, no, no, no you’ve never been bad. I had to do something today, and I didn’t tell him what time I’d be back.” Yes, it’s a lie, but I definitely can’t tell her I was at my therapist and then had to go off and analyze my feeling for the rest of the day.

“You’re not leaving us?”

“No.” I hug her to my body. “I’m not leaving. I’m right here.” My eyes connect with Remington. The weariness is gone, and he looks happy.

The rest of the night was our usual routine, even though I didn’t eat dinner. I wasn’t hungry. Remington didn’t say much since our kiss, but I really want him to do it again.