Day and Night Ch. 03

"Aren't they all," she said quietly before shifting gears. "You sound like a native."

"I am. Born and bred."

She hummed, flipping the french toast before reducing the heat on the bubbling peaches. "You have a lovely home."

The statement threw him for its suddenness, but Day recovered quickly. "Thank you. The credit goes to my wife."

"Late... wife?" It was a quiet question, more of a reinforcement that what he'd said yesterday was true.

"Yes."

"I—" She started. Stopped. Carefully slipped the french toast onto the spatula and transferred it onto a nearby plate already stacked with french toast under a plastic bowl. "If you don't mind me asking, how did it happen?"

"Cancer."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Another quiet moment as she re-buttered the pan and slid another drenched piece of toast on it before she said, "I lost my older brother to lung cancer. He did home restorations in Indianapolis. Beautiful colonials he brought back to life. It was his passion."

"Shontell was a clinical psychologist at Tisch Hospital. She worked more in the children's ward. It was an incredibly difficult job, both for the mental toll and hospital politics. But she knew how important it was. The difference just talking makes. She also worked at the youth center down the street. Always giving every part of herself."

"She sounds wonderful."

"She was."

The soft humming started again, signaling a close to the conversation. He let it be, needing the silence to regroup because this was not how he thought one night stands were supposed to end. Not in general, and certainly not with a woman he'd found in a skimpy dress and fuck me heels. But he couldn't kick her out now. Hell, he didn't want to. She was bringing warmth and brightness and all the things he'd missed back. The chair beside him squeaked as Brian climbed up, feet swinging as he watched Beth work.

Day held out his hand and Brian placed the hard-back book in his hand. The Hungry Caterpillar.

"What's the story about?"

Beth glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she spotted Brian and then the book. "Oh, is that The Hungry Caterpillar? I love that book. My mom used to read it to me all the time."

"Mine too," Brian said softly, all the things that came with losing a parent as a young child tied up in the two words. Beth realized her mistake too late.

"I—"

"I'll let you read it to me."

Damn. Day looked away, tried to compose himself, find the words to let his son down gently, but there was nothing. Because he'd made promises and brought sunshine when he shouldn't have and this was his punishment.

Beth turned off the burners, wiped her hands on her leggings and skirted the island to stand next to Brian. Leaning over, she took the book and held it out to his son with both hands. "I'd like it if we read it together."

"Brian, it's breakfast time. Go put away the book."

"But—"

"Now!" Day's voice was too gruff, too hard, as he pushed away from the island and got plates and cups to set the dining room table.

The minute his son was out of the room, he leaned against the counter and dropped his head. "You can't do that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"When are you leaving?"

"When do you want me to leave?"

Now. Never. Yesterday. Before I ever picked you up. "You have a fiancee."

"I did."

"You do."

"Well, I'm not going back—"

"You live together."

Her sigh was all kinds of frustration. "What do you want me to say, Day?"

"Nothing," he snapped. "It's my fault. I should have put you in a cab, the guest room, somewhere else. Shouldn't have—fuck! This is my life, Beth. My kid. You can't."

"I know. I—I'll leave."

"You're leaving?" Brian piped up from the hallway.

Day glanced over to Beth to see watery eyes before she blinked it away. "Yeah, honey. I have a lot of stuff to do today."

"But you didn't eat breakfast. You need to eat," his tone broached no argument, just clear five year-old wisdom.

"And I will, but I have a very busy day. I have to get home."

"But... but the book," tears were streaming down his face and before Day could go to his son, she was there, gathering him up.

"Brian honey, I know it hurts. It hurts so bad," she said softly as the child cried into her chest.

"But you said..."

"I know. And I'm going to give you my phone number, so when you want to read with me you can call."

"Don't, Beth."

She turned to look at him, her face granite as she continued, "Just pick up the phone and I'll answer. I'll help you."

But who would help her? Beth couldn't make promises like this with a dead phone and the scent of him still clinging to her. She couldn't say these things to a child and not expect them to mean the world. She didn't even know what she was doing.

"Day," her tone, bossy but laced with something deeper, called to him, "I talk to my nieces and nephews weekly. I flew back to see Dylan's soccer game and Lacey's ballet recital. I don't say things I don't mean."

"That's different. That's blood."

"Yeah, well, everyone has blood. That doesn't mean anything."

They stared at each other, neither willing to back down. Day was doing everything not to get his son's hopes up and then have them crushed. But Beth? He had no clue what she was doing. These were promises she didn't need to make. Just like the breakfast.

A vein throbbed at his temple because fuck Beth switching her little ass down the street into his life, screwing like a banshee, showing his son how to make breakfast, and being a genuinely good person.

"You need to leave," Day said finally, rubbing the back of his neck.

Disappointment flashed across her face before it was gone and she was back to hugging his son. A second passed before she drew away and wiped his tears. "I have to go, honey. But you can call or text me, okay?"

Brian's face twisted before he fled to his bedroom, slamming the door shut. Sighing gustily, Day moved to the front door where his coat hung with his wallet tucked into the pocket. It occurred to him at that moment that he'd trusted Beth in his home. Not once had it crossed his mind that she might steal from him or hurt him. She could have. Many times.

"Do you need money for a cab?"

"No." Her voice was cool, remote.

"Okay," Day said slowly, spinning on his heel to face her.

Hands on her hips, brows furrowed, legs spread she looked ready to give him a tongue lashing his grandmother would be proud of. "Let me get this out of the way: what happened this morning was great for me. Not sure how it was for you, but it was exactly what I needed. On that note, I'm sorry for pushing and taking advantage of the situation. I don't usually whip out my damsel-in-distress card and flaunt it so aggressively but you caught me on an off day."

"Uh-huh."

"And just so we're clear," she took a step forward, all the way into his space. "It was wrong of me to step in on your family life and say what I said and do what I did. That was shitty and I get why you're kicking me out, so I'm not taking it personally. I just... I just can't stand to see people in pain when I can help alleviate it."

"Don't make promises," Day growled, stepping even closer so his chest rubbed against hers and he had to tilt his head down to look at her. "Enough promises have been broken for him."

"I don't make promises, I keep them. Like appointments." Her hair tickled his exposed collas as she stepped even closer, not a breath between them. "He calls, I'll answer."

"And me?"

"You have a lot on your plate, Day," she said softly, eyes lowered as he instinctively leaned down to hear her better. Yeah. Hear. "I don't need to be added."

"You're already on it." And damn if he didn't just eat her up. Bite those lips, suck that tongue, and lick his plate clean. As far as bad ideas went this was right up there with lighting a cigarette at an oil refinery. But as bad as it was, as bad as he knew it would be, there was no stopping it.

There'd never been a chance.