Happily Letter After by Vi Keeland

CHAPTER 17

SEBASTIAN

I’d come very close to fucking up last night. So close, I could smell it. Smell her. I sighed. She smelled phenomenal. Even though I knew I wasn’t still drunk, I somehow still felt drunk off her.

It was a miracle I’d gotten any sleep at all, but the wine must have knocked me out, because sometime after 2:00 am, I’d totally passed out in Birdie’s bed. But not before I’d retreated to the bathroom off the hallway to jerk off to thoughts of ramming into Sadie while she was in that yoga plow pose with her legs backed over her head. It took me all of thirty seconds to come harder than I had in months all over the shower door. Better there than inside her last night, and believe me, if she hadn’t been intoxicated, that might have very well happened.

I threw on a white T-shirt and some jeans and made my way to the kitchen. The smell of coffee infiltrated my senses.

The sight of her in my kitchen made my heart nearly stop. I hadn’t realized how much I missed having a woman to wake up to. Perhaps it wasn’t until this moment that I realized just how fucking lonely I’d been. But it wasn’t even that. She was wearing my shirt. My white dress shirt. And no fucking pants. And she was bopping her ass a little, even though there was no music on.

“Hey,” I called out.

Sadie jumped. “Hey.” She smiled. “I took it upon myself to make breakfast.” She looked down at herself. “I stole one of your longest shirts. I just didn’t feel like putting on my dirty workout clothes after the shower I took last night. I hope that’s okay.”

What could I say to that? It was apparently fine with my dick, because I was getting hard just looking at her in my shirt. In fact, I was starting to feel like a goddamn caveman. Sleep had done nothing to curb my appetite.

I never answered her. I was too busy staring.

“I figured the least I could do after you let me have your room last night was to make you a nice breakfast.”

She was being more than gracious, considering I’d mauled her mouth, then sent her off to bed alone last night.

The smells of eggs, coffee, and a hint of cinnamon filled the air. And for some reason, instead of feeling guilty or conflicted this morning, I continued to feel fucking high.

“This is amazing. Thank you,” I said as I came up next to her.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

I looked out toward the door. “What the hell?”

“Are you expecting someone?” she asked.

“No.”

When I opened it, Birdie stood there with a woman I recognized as her friend’s mother. My daughter wasn’t supposed to be back until this afternoon.

“Hey! What happened?”

Birdie looked up at me. “I have pink eye.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Maxwell,” the woman said. “It’s contagious, so I thought it best to bring her home.”

Shit.

Renee noticed the frazzled look on my face.

“Is this . . . a bad time? I tried to call first, but your cell went right to voice mail.”

That’s because charging my cell phone was the last thing on my mind when I went to bed last night.

I shook my head. “No. It’s fine. Of course it’s fine. I totally understand.”

While I’d gotten the words out, my body was still physically blocking the door.

What the hell am I going to do?The last thing Birdie should see was a half-naked Sadie standing in our kitchen. It was inappropriate on so many levels. How would I explain it to her?

“Apparently pink eye is going around in their class. It’s usually nothing more than a little bit of eye drops to clear it up. Birdie said she didn’t even notice it, right, sweetheart?”

My daughter shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

At that moment, Marmaduke came to the door. He forced his way past me and practically knocked Birdie over on the front step.

“Hey, Marmaduke. Did you miss me?” She bent down and started to pet him, even though he was as tall as she was.

Renee smiled. “I left my husband alone with seven girls. So I better run back.”

“Okay. Yeah. Umm. Thanks a lot for bringing her home.”

She turned to walk down the stairs, and I looked back over my shoulder while Birdie was distracted with the dog. No sign of Sadie.

“Uh. You know what, honey. I was just about to take Marmaduke for a walk. Why don’t I grab his leash, and we’ll go together. I’ll call the doctor and get you an appointment when we get back.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“I’ll be back in a minute. You can stay here while I get the leash from the kitchen.”

Birdie laughed and pointed. “It’s right there, next to your head, Daddy.”

Shit. Yeah . . . the damn leash was hanging right on the key hook in the vestibule next to the front door, wasn’t it?

Birdie stood and wiped off her knees. “I’m going to put my pillow and sleeping bag in my room.”

“No! Don’t do that.”

Her little face wrinkled. “Why can’t I put them in my room?”

“Umm.” Think. Think. Oh wait! “Because they might have some bacteria on them. From your eye infection.” I smiled coming up with that excuse. Though my daughter looked at me funny. Like . . . why the hell are you smiling because my eye infection might be on my blanket, you weirdo? Nevertheless, I took the pillow and sleeping bag and tossed them behind me, into the living room.

Then I stepped outside and pulled the front door shut as fast as I could. “Ready?”

“Uh . . . Dad . . . you forgot the leash?” She looked down. “And your shoes!”

Jesus Christ. “Shoot. Okay . . . give me one second.” I opened the door back up, only enough to reach in and grab the leash off the wall and a pair of shoes, and then pulled it shut again.

“Let’s go.”

Birdie walked down the stairs. I looked back over my shoulder a few times, but there was still no sign of Sadie. Hopefully she’d figure out what had happened and at least be dressed when we got back.

I stalled for a good half an hour, taking Marmaduke on a long-ass walk, until Birdie said she needed to go to the bathroom. Arriving back at the house, I hesitantly opened the front door. Birdie’s sleeping bag and pillow were exactly where I’d left them. I glanced around—the house seemed quiet. While Birdie ran off to the bathroom, I peeked into the kitchen. No sign of Sadie. So I went to the bedroom and the master bath. Both empty. On my way back out to the living room, I noticed my dress shirt folded in the middle of my bed—the one she’d been wearing this morning, the one she’d worn to sleep last night.

She was gone. I blew out a sigh of relief, and my shoulders relaxed. Though while I was glad to protect my daughter, a part of me felt like shit for letting Sadie leave without having said anything to her. Especially after what had gone down last night. She deserved better than that.

So after I called Birdie’s doctor to make an appointment to get her eye checked, I let my phone charge for a little while and then decided to send a text to Sadie.

Sebastian: Sorry about the abrupt departure. Birdie came home early with pink eye. I’m taking her to the doctor now.

A few minutes later, my phone dinged with a response.

Sadie: No problem. I completely understand. Good luck at the doc!

I debated addressing what had transpired between us last night, but what the hell would I say?

Thanks for letting my drunk ass grind against you.

I don’t want to shower so I can keep your smell all over me.

Figuring sometimes it’s just better to leave well enough alone, I typed something innocuous.

Sebastian: Thank you. Talk soon.

Then I set my phone back on the charger.

I forced myself to take a quick shower and shave before getting ready to take Birdie to the doctor. Inside my closet, I grabbed the first shirt on a hanger that my hands touched, then went to my dresser to get a T-shirt for underneath. But the folded shirt on the bed caught my eye again.

I shouldn’t.

That would be fucked up.

Looking at my closed bedroom door, I stood five feet away, staring at the goddamn thing as if I went too close, it might bite me.

But the damn thing taunted me even from a distance.

Touch me.

Smell me.

Wear me.

Just once won’t hurt.

I tried to ignore it, but then I started to reason with myself.

I should probably just smell it once. See if it needs to be washed.

Yeah . . . that’s what I should do.

Of course that made sense.

One sniff.

Just one sniff.

I walked over to the bed and picked up the shirt and brought it to my nose. Inhaling deeply, the smell of Sadie permeated my senses. It smelled exactly like her.

Fuck.

Fuck me.

I inhaled a second time.

Though I should’ve listened to myself . . . Just one sniff . . . because the second time . . . Birdie busted through the door, catching me red-handed with my face nuzzling the shirt.

Her brows drew together. “What are you doing, Daddy?”

“I . . . uh. I was just making sure my shirt was clean.”

She giggled. “Is it?”

“Umm. Yeah. I guess so.” I stood there staring at her.

“Do you feel okay, Daddy? You’re acting really weird today.”

“Yeah. I’m fine, sweetheart. Sorry.”

“Come on.” She held out her hand. “It’s time to go to the doctor.”

“Okay . . . just let me grab a shirt.”

“What’s wrong with that one?”

“It’s dirty.”

She laughed. “You just said it was clean.”

“Oh. Yeah . . . it is clean. It just . . . has a stain on it.” I wadded up the shirt in my hand and tossed it on the bed, picking up the one I’d taken out from the closet. “I’ll just wear this one.”

Later that evening, I was glad when Birdie said she was tired and going to turn in early. We were both wiped out from our slumber parties last night. I really needed to unwind, and I looked forward to going into my room, kicking my feet up, and watching some TV maybe. But after flicking through the channels and finding nothing, I decided what I really needed to relax was more than some stupid show. I needed a release.

So I got up and locked my bedroom door and slid open my end table drawer, where I hid lotion. Only when I went to grab it, there was a folded piece of paper sitting on top of the bottle. Thinking nothing of it, I took it out and unfolded it.

Dear Sebastian,

I had a great time last night. If you’re reaching into the drawer for what’s underneath this note, I hope you think of me while using it.

God knows I thought of you while I did my thing last night in your bed.

Love,

Sadie

P.S. You might want to wash the sheets ;)