DARREL
I’ve been tired in the past, but tonight’s weariness is bone-deep. I stretch my arms above my head and tilt my neck. That crackling sound can’t be coming from my body. Hell, I sound like I’m part bubble wrap.
I turn my head in a circle. The slow rotation does nothing to lessen the strain in my muscles. It’s been an extremely long day. To feel normal again, I’ll need either sleep, coffee, or Sunny.
I choose the last option.
My pen rattles against my desk as I pick up the phone and video-call her. She’s watching the boys. I have a perfect excuse to see her face.
While the little green icon vibrates on-screen, I run a hand through my hair and hope I don’t look as worn out as I feel.
The line connects with a ding!
Sunny appears and my world brightens. Dark brown skin. Twinkling brown eyes. Silky hair falling over high cheekbones.
“Hey,” I bring the phone down on the desk, “how are the boys?”
“Great! We’re throwing a rager in the backyard. The tattoo artist says they have incredible pain tolerance.”
I stiffen. “Sunny.”
A smile spreads over her face and it nearly knocks me out of my chair. To call this woman beautiful would be a detrimental understatement. She is sultry perfection wrapped in dark brown skin and mischief.
Her face charged through my mind at least a hundred times today. I had to make an effort to focus on the clients and not on how much I wanted to check on Sunny and the boys.
Is that obsession healthy?
Probably not.
Nothing Sunny Quetzal makes me feel can be classified as ‘normal’.
I thought I knew love. I really did. I thought that crush on Sunny in high school and the dalliances I’d had as an adult was that thing. The thing that sent women and men running into my office, begging for relief and healing.
I was wrong.
So wrong.
Love is big and rude and loud.
Just like Sunny.
It’s addictive too. Like a drug. It is a drug. A hit of dopamine that floods the brain and gets the host hooked.
That’s what Sunny Quetzal has done to me. Never smoked a day in my life, yet she turned me into a drug addict.
“Relax. The boys are here.” She swings the phone around.
Micheal and Bailey appear on screen. They’re sitting in the living room. Bailey’s flat on his stomach, scribbling in his homework book. Micheal has his back against the chair, reading a comic.
“Your house is fine. For now. Bailey and I still have to nag you about that play date.”
“It’s a no on the play date.”
“I looked it up. Social connections are good for the brain. It develops teamwork building and empathy skills.”
My lips twitch. “You did your research.”
“You only respect brain science. I have to beat you at your own game.”
“It’s still a no.”
“Come on, Hastings.”
“Having too many kids in the house is messy and I don’t have time—”
“I have time.”
“Do you?”
“Okay, I actually don’t, but that’s not the point.”
“Why are you so obsessed with this play date?”
“I want more people to see my work.”
“The fact that you want validation from children is telling, Sunny.”
“Please.” She pushes out her bottom lip.
My heart melts like wax.
“Hey boys,” Sunny gathers Micheal and Bailey around her, “do your best puppy dog impression.”
Bailey jumps on-board without hesitation. Eyes wide behind his glasses, he sticks out his bottom lip until I can see to his gums. Micheal gives me a bored look and rolls his eyes.
Something in my chest snaps into place when I look at them. I don’t know. It’s like I’m staring down a vision of my future. Calling Sunny after a long day. Micheal and Bailey safe and cared for. A place to call home.
I’ve never had a longing for any other life before. All that mattered was keeping the status quo. Order. Routine. Self-discipline. My work was enough to satisfy me, and a clean and empty house was enough to bring me peace.
Now?
I want more.
I want these three people right here.
Sunny tilts her head close to Micheal. Her hair falls against her bare shoulder. The camera pans out and I see she changed into a tank top and shorts.
I stare at her in awe. She’s long, long legs, graceful arms and red lips. The girl every man wishes he had on his arm. In fact, she could go out right now in that tank top and flip flops and men would still notice. Her magnetism is frustrating. If she wasn’t so damn charming, guys wouldn’t be hovering around her like fruit flies around an apple pie.
I cannot begin to express how panicked I was when I saw her connecting with Gabor today. Thankfully, Gabor picked up on something between Sunny and me. After that, he jumped on my team. The smiles he aimed at Sunny were more amused than flirtatious. His tone shifted too. And he was quick to shove Sunny out with me when I had to leave.
I’m not sure if he backed off for his sake or for mine, but I’m glad it happened. I would have turned into an even more immature and petty version of myself if not.
It’s crazy that a random stranger saw my love for Sunny faster than she did. Why she’s so blind to how I feel about her is beyond me.
“Tell him what you did tonight, Micheal,” Sunny says, still pushing her head in Micheal’s face.
He bats her hair away and sends a dour look at the camera. “I made something.”
“What. Tell him what.”
“Mac and cheese.”
Sunny hollers loud enough to break my phone speakers. “That’s right. Your boy, Mike here, made dinner.”
“Was it any good?”
“Are you kidding? We couldn’t even scrape the noodles out of the pan.”
“There aren’t instructions on how hot the flame should be.” Micheal pouts. “That’s false advertising.”
“That’s common-sense, Micheal.” Sunny’s wry expression makes me want to laugh.
I pull my lips in. “Did you eat it?”
“I threw the entire pot away and ordered pizza.” Her sharp eyes lock on me. “By the way, I owe you a new pot.”
My shoulders lift and fall. “Never touched those pots much anyway.”
“Good.”
“It was edible.” Micheal sets his comic book aside. He spreads his legs in a fighting stance. “You two are overreacting.”
“It was awful, Mr. Darrel.” Bailey pushes his face too close to the camera. I can see all the way up his nasal canal.
“Worst thing I’d ever eaten in my life.” Sunny agrees.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Micheal defends himself. “Besides, the instructions were complicated.”
Sunny darts a disbelieving look at him. “Oh, come on. Who messes up mac and cheese?”
Bailey snorts.
“I told Micheal that, since he wanted to stand for something, he could have his mac and cheese while we had pizza. All of a sudden, he changed his tune.”
Micheal shrugs and then cackles. Cackles. “I wasn’t eating that.”
I’m stunned. Two days after his grandmother’s funeral and Sunny has the normally reclusive boy laughing.
She is incredible.
“Anyway,” Sunny rises and walks away from the boys, “we saved you some pizza. Actually, I had to cart it away and hide it because Micheal and Bailey were acting like they hadn’t eaten in three centuries.”
“Cafeteria food stinks!” Bailey cries out from the background.
Sunny rolls her eyes at the phone and then yells over her shoulder, “You should be grateful for food. There are little kids all around the world who have nothing to eat!”
I pull my fingers into a fist and cough to hide my laughter. Child hunger is not amusing at all, but Sunny’s disappointed sigh is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
“Anyway,” she steps into the kitchen, “I asked Dina if you’d had dinner yet and she said you’d had back-to-back sessions. Since you’re probably running on caffeine and determination right now,” she points the camera down on a beautiful plate of yellow rice, chicken breasts and vegetables, “I whipped up something a little healthier than pizza. I would have made some for the boys too, but they couldn’t wait.” She huffs as if to say so impatient. “According to them, they’d starve if they didn’t eat.”
My heart thumps in my chest. “You made dinner for me?”
“Whoa, whoa. Let’s not get carried away. I made dinner for me. American pizza is not my idea of a good time. I just…” her eyes dart away, “had some leftover.”
“Right.”
“Of course.”
“It was foolish of me to assume otherwise.”
“Exactly. Why would you do something like that?” Her chuckle is nervous. “Anyway, the boys are fine. The house is fine. I’m fine.” Yes, she is. “So focus on your work and come home when you’re done.”
“Sunny—”
“Bye.” The screen goes blank.
I pull the phone away and chuckle at it. My intuition was right. Sunny is far more energizing than sleep or coffee. She seemed skittish though, when we ended the call. I hope she doesn’t run the moment I get home. I hope I can convince her to stay a little longer.
Would she let me tuck her into bed again… without her clothes on this time? My heartbeat picks up as I imagine Sunny sliding her bra down her shoulder and successfully unbuttoning my shirt.
A knock sounds at the door. Dina pokes her head into my office and it’s all I can do to push that image from my mind.
“Were you on the phone with a patient?” Her eyes slash over my face. “Did they say something to upset you? Your ears are red.”
“Are they?” I pinch the lobe.
“Mm-hm.” She trots to the sofa and falls wearily into the corner.
“No, it wasn’t a patient. It was Sunny.”
“Oh?” Dina lifts a brow.
“She was updating me on the boys. Micheal made mac and cheese.”
“Is he any good?”
“No.” We need Sunny to train us on how to fend for ourselves in the kitchen. It’s a sad, sad day if Micheal can’t even conquer box mac and cheese.
Dina smiles. “They’re both precious.”
“And I’ve been away from them too long.”
Her eyes bug. “You’re going home?”
“Yes.” I flick the desk lamp off.
“But we have to input case notes.”
“It can wait until tomorrow.”
“You never put off doing case notes.” Her jaw drops.
“I already made notes in my recorder. I’ll transcribe it when I have time.” Shrugging out of my lab coat, I set it on the back of my chair. “Micheal asked me to help him with math and Bailey’s homework needs to be checked before he submits it tomorrow.”
Her eyelashes bounce up and down. “Look at you being a good dad. It’s like you were made for this, Darrel.”
My smile goes flat. I think of my father. You’re a lazy punk. Is that the best you can do? Get up and run it again. Rain or shine, dad pushed me to train until mom ran to intervene. That’s too harsh. Can’t you see he’s bleeding? He’s just a child!
A father.
A dad.
A nightmare.
My throat tightens and I swallow hard. “Dina.”
“Huh.” She looks at me with a smile.
“In the future, I’d like if you didn’t refer to me as their father.”
Her smile slowly disappears. “What?”
I grab my keys and march past her. My heart is tight and my stomach is roiling. There’s a scientific explanation for what I’m feeling. A link to my past that I need to unravel. Trauma that won’t heal even though my dad is gone.
I didn’t expect it to rear its ugly head, but then I didn’t expect that I’d be taking in two boys or that I’d grow to care for them so much.
It’s exactly because I care for them that I can’t call myself a father. I’m going to give the boys everything they need. I’m going to be there for them. And I’m not going to ruin their lives the way my dad ruined mine.
The house is quiet when I walk in. The television’s on. It’s turned to a home decorating network. Sunny’s in the couch alone, a glass of wine on the coffee table and her feet propped up. There’s a laptop on her thighs and a wrinkle between her brows as she stares at it.
When I shut the door, she jumps and her eyes dart to me. “Darrel.”
“Hey,” I say quietly. My conversation with Dina is still weighing on my mind. Thinking about my father always puts me in a foul mood. And now Dina knows.
Well, she always knew some things—a few nights after Claire passed, I hinted at my troubled relationship with my father—but now that she realizes it’s a lot more serious, she’ll be concerned and worried about me. And that’s the last thing I need.
Sunny pulls her feet off the coffee table and stands. “The boys are in their rooms. I asked them what time they should be in bed. They gave me different answers, so I made an executive decision.”
“They’re sleeping already?”
“Bailey is.” She covers her yawn with a fist. “Micheal is still up reading, but it’s not like I’m going to punish him for loving books. That’s ridiculous.” She waves a hand.
“Right.”
“Right.” She bobs her head.
“Good.”
“Good.”
We both get quiet.
Sunny clears her throat. “Oh, I wanted to ask. How’s Alexandra?”
“She’s okay.”
“That’s good.”
I suck in a deep breath and just… stare at her. My heart, that was dragging behind me the entire ride home, bounces to life again. It’s like she recharges me. Everything about her. It’s pure energy and its contagious.
“Are… you okay? You look,” she tilts her head in thought, “like you were living underground for fifty years and you’re about to get kidnapped by zombies.”
“Nice use of imagery.”
“I did study Literature for four years. Something was bound to rub off.”
Quiet settles around us again. I should say something. Thank her for picking up the kids. Thank her for making dinner. Thank her for being sunshine and flowers and a refreshing breeze in the desert that is my life.
But all I can do is stare.
She blinks rapidly. “Let me say bye to Micheal real quick before I go.”
I want to follow her, but that would be creepy and annoying. I pace the living room while she’s upstairs. My fingers sink into my tie and yank. Then they race into my hair and tussle.
There’s still so much I need to settle in my life. Micheal and Bailey are here under emergency custody and their social worker isn’t a fan of them living with me. I need to find a nanny. I need to figure out how I’ll fit extracurricular activities, school trips and parent-teacher conferences around my full docket of clients.
Then there’s the soul-deep issues. The ones I always encourage my patients to sort out before they enter a new relationship because it’ll cause problems down the road.
My father.
My last conversation with Claire.
My history with Sunny—something she still doesn’t remember.
There are steps. I had steps to this and it should go in order because order is life. Anything out of order can damage the perfectly built walls I’ve erected around me.
But when Sunny appears in the living room again, wearing a tank top with her creamy-brown shoulders exposed, her hair in a ponytail and her brown eyes unsure and solemn, I know that I wouldn’t be able to keep my feelings to myself if I tried.
“Guess I’ll leave now.” Sunny picks her purse off the handle of the chair and squeezes it.
I take a step toward her.
She swallows nervously. “I was only kidding about the play date. If you really don’t want it to happen, I won’t bring it up again.”
My steps get faster. I’m halfway across the living room now.
She flutters her eyelashes. “Shanya told me you wanted me out of your hair. You could have told me that yourself, but it’s fine. I get it.”
“Sunny, please stop talking.”
She shakes her head. “I’m finished with the rooms now, so you don’t need to see me anymore. Although I really would like if I could pick up Micheal and Bailey from school sometimes. Maybe take them for ice cream? Once a month. Okay, twice a month. It would free up your schedule and you could—”
I grab Sunny Quetzal’s chin, tilt her head back, ignore that wide-eyed surprise shimmering in those beautiful brown eyes and lower my mouth.
The kiss I drop on her trembling lips is only to shut her up. Kissing isn’t communication, as much as I wish it was. And Sunny is just the type of woman to miss what I’m saying entirely if I don’t make myself clear.
Words. I need words. I have all intentions of using words. Really great, romantic words because women love romance and she’s the kind of woman who deserves all of it.
But one soft touch of my mouth to Sunny’s is not near enough. I taste the wine on her lips and the world starts swimming around me in a dance of pleased shock. I can’t stop. Why the hell would I stop?
I reach for her hips and slide my arm around it, dragging her so close to me that not even air particles can get between us.
Her hand slides up my back and into my hair. The way her nails scrape against my scalp is torture and pleasure and everything I didn’t know I was missing.
She’s kissing me back.
Holy…
Her mouth. Her tongue. She’s my one addiction and it’s coming to a head tonight because I won’t be able to control myself. Not even slightly.
We’re moving. I’m not sure if I’m the one pushing her or if she’s stumbling backward, but the world is spinning in one persistent direction. I don’t care or recognize why until we hit the wall. Her body bounces toward mine and I steady her. This time, my grip is lower on her hip and I’m basically palming the back of her shorts. It’s not intentional. My hands are just that big.
I shift my palm away. “Sorry.”
Sunny grins and pushes my arm down until I’m doing what I’ve always dreamed of—squeezing her rear end tight. I swoop in and devour her mouth again, swiping my tongue over her bottom lip as a reward. The noise that bubbles from the back of her throat—a desperate, needy little whimper—turns my blood so hot that I’m worried she’ll get burned from being this close to me.
Too much. She’s too much. I’m buzzing everywhere. Coming apart like my skin is made of play dough. Something that can be stretched and yanked in every direction.
Her fingers trail my cheek and slide down my neck until they’re inside my shirt. She’s inside my shirt and damn, I might as well find a supernova because I’m pretty sure I’m nothing but energy and pure, raging need.
A door upstairs slams and little footsteps pound in the distance. I hear it dimly, but I’m somewhere outside my body and can’t be bothered. Sunny has a much better reaction time than I do. She stiffens and pushes me away, turning so her back is to the second floor banister. A moment later, Bailey appears at the top of the stairs.
“Mr. Darrel!” He bounds toward us.
I have to swallow three times before I remember how words are formed. “I thought you were sleeping, Bailey.”
“I heard Sunny tell Micheal goodbye. I was waiting for her to come to my room, but she never did.” The little boy points accusatory eyes on Sunny.
“Uh… sorry, Bailey. I thought you were sleeping, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You have to say goodbye.” Bailey marches up to her, his eyes serious and solemn. “You’re not allowed to leave us without saying goodbye.”
My heart wrenches.
Sunny crouches to his level, which is another, instinctively caring thing that she does. “I’m sorry, Bailey. I give you my word. Whenever I leave, I’ll let you know first.”
He bobs his head.
She offers her hand to him. “Walk me to my car?”
“It’s cold out there.” I frown. “Let me get your coat, Bailey.” I adjust myself on the way to Bailey’s room and try to cool down so the little boy doesn’t notice how flushed I am.
When I return, Bailey and Sunny are at the front door. Bailey’s talking excitedly and I have serious doubts that he was sleeping all this time.
Sunny is listening to every word, her head turned toward him and a patient smile on her face. Looking at her makes me want to throw her against the wall and continue where we left off, so I divert my attention to Bailey.
“Here, bud.” I open the coat.
He sticks his little hands in without skipping a beat of his story. “And the new girl at school was being bullied by Ebenezer and she was crying and I helped her.”
“Mm-hm,” Sunny says.
I watch Sunny intently as I help Bailey with the coat.
“And then I shared my chocolate with her and she told me she wasn’t crying because she was scared. She said she cried because she was angry. Can you believe that?”
“Sounds… like an interesting little girl.” Sunny accepts Bailey’s hand. She’s not looking at me. Why isn’t she looking at me?
“Her name is Beth. That’s short for Elizabeth. She said her mom is a mechanic. She fixes cars. She said her mom told her that boys are silly. I told her I wasn’t silly…”
“Mm-hm.” Sunny lifts her car keys.
Bailey keeps talking. “So I want to invite her to my play date,” he finally concludes. “Because she’s cool.”
“Alright, buddy. We have to talk more about this play date idea.” I lift him into my arms. “And Sunny has to go home.”
“Does she have to go home?” Bailey frowns.
“I don’t know.” I arch an eyebrow at Sunny. “Should we ask her to stay the night?”
Her eyes widen and she blinks rapidly. “Sorry, I can’t stay.” She doesn’t look sorry at all. She looks jittery and frantic. “I need to come up with concept art for a new client tomorrow, so I have to go.”
Look at me, Sunny. Give me an indication that you understood what that kiss was about.
“I’ll see you and Micheal later, okay?” Sunny’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. With trembling fingers, she tries to open her car. The first thrust of her key goes a little too far south. The second sends the key spiraling out of her hand.
I bend to pick it up and she does too.
Our hands brush.
Sunny drags her fingers back as if she’s allergic to me. “Thanks,” she mumbles to the ground.
This time, she gets the key into the lock. Sunny jumps into her car, and backs out of my driveway so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t mow down my mailbox. My eyes follow her car until she fades from sight.
Bailey stares at my face. “Mr. Darrel, are you wearing lipstick?”
“Huh?” I swipe the back of my hand over my mouth and it comes away red. “No, I was just…” Sucking on the sweetest pair of lips in the city. “Eating something sweet.”
“When I eat the blueberry lollipops, my tongue turns blue. See?” He shows me his tongue.
“That means you didn’t brush properly, champ.” I cart Bailey inside the house and help him get ready for bed again.
When I’m back in my bedroom, I pick up my phone to text Sunny. Through my notifications, I see she already sent a message. My heart picks up speed. I think about our kiss again. How soft she’d been in my arms. How she’d arched her chest against me. How she’d guided me to palm her…
Sunny: Tonight was a mistake.
My heart deflates.
I read the message twice.
Mistake?
Dread pours through my veins.
This woman. She’s determined to make this difficult, isn’t she?
I start to type out my response when I realize that delivering my feelings via text is a sure way to one, not convey my thoughts in the right tone and two, leave her doubting whether I truly value her.
Darrel: Let’s meet tomorrow.
She doesn’t respond.
I go to sleep dreaming about Sunny and, when I wake up the next morning, she’s the first thought on my mind. I grab my phone and notice she texted back some time in the middle of the night. Was she unable to sleep because she was thinking of me too?
Sunny: I’ll see you at the dance session tomorrow. Let’s not make it weird.
I wrinkle my nose. What the hell does ‘make it weird’ mean? I have feelings for her. I can’t stop thinking about her. And she’s got feelings for me too or she wouldn’t have kissed me back the way she did yesterday.
I run a hand through my hair and it reminds me of the way she slid her fingers over my scalp last night.
My chest expands on a tortured breath. “Sunny Quetzal, what am I going to do with you?”
Feeling restless, I stumble out of bed and take a cold, cold shower. After, I get dressed and head across the hall to wake the boys.
Bailey is easy because he’s a morning person. I’m almost certain his sympathic pathways are most active with the sunrise. Micheal is the opposite. I have to beg and then threaten him to get ready for school.
When both boys are awake, I head downstairs to make toast. As I pass the living room, I look at the wall where Sunny and I kissed. Memories of her flood my brain and I hurry to make coffee so I can keep myself in check. I don’t have time for another cold shower. The boys are running late as is.
Breakfast is toast and scrambled eggs sprinkled with shells because I haven’t prepared a morning meal in over a year and I’m a little rusty.
Next, I herd the kids out the door and into my car where I drop them off at school.
“Have a good day, guys.”
Micheal nods.
Bailey waves enthusiastically.
On the way to the therapy center, I call Alistair.
“If you’re calling to back out of tonight’s dance session, it’s too late. I’ve already put your name down. You and Sunny will perform this number with us or I’m moving my office into your therapy center to bother you all day.”
I frown. “That’s an effective but unnecessary threat. I didn’t call to cancel.”
“Oh.” His voice thickens in confusion. “What do you need?”
“A nanny for the boys.”
“That’s easy. Ms. Hansley can take care of them.”
“I love Ms. Hansley. She took care of me and Claire.”
“I know.”
“But she’s getting older. Watching Belle and my boys might be too—”
“Whoa,” Alistair gasps.
“What?”
“You just called them ‘my boys’.”
“Did I?”
“You did.” He sounds excited. “You called them ‘my boys’, Darrel.”
I clear my throat. It’s not a big deal. The boys are my responsibility. Everything that comes with taking care of and protecting them belongs to me.
“The point is, I need someone to pick them up from school, help them with their homework and watch them while I’m caught up at the center. I was wondering if you have any recommendations.”
“I don’t. But until you find another nanny, I know Ms. Hansley would love to watch them. Bring them over tonight during dance practice. Or better yet, Ms. Hansley can go over to the farmhouse with Belle if you think the boys would be more comfortable in their own space.”
“Have you told Belle about Micheal and Bailey already?” I flick the indicator and turn left.
“Kind of.” Alistair coughs. “Her only play fellow is Ms. Hansley. I knew she’d be excited about having cousins.”
“Alistair.”
“I know. I know. We don’t want to rush the boys into anything. But come on. We didn’t know they existed for a year. Kenya’s already planning barbecues. Belle’s got a list of Christmas presents for them. We want to meet them. Get to know them. They’re a part of the family now.”
Family.
Bailey, Micheal and I are family. And by extension, they’re a part of Alistair and Kenya’s family as well.
It rings true.
It feels… right.
Alistair hesitates. “Would you have preferred I kept it a secret from Belle?” He sighs. “You’re right. Maybe sharing the news with Belle was a little premature. I’ll talk to her. Try to calm her down. She’s really excited about having cousins, but the boys might not be used to the idea yet.”
I swallow hard. I’m still stuck on Alistair’s first statement.
Family.
“Darrel?”
“You’re right. They are family.”
“Huh?”
My mind relaxes for the first time since the boys came to live with me. I’m overthinking the ‘dad’ label. Family is simple. Family is showing up for someone and giving your all because it’s what you do. Because you’re connected in a way that shows priority.
I smile.
Sunny.
Sunny is family.
“Hello? You still there?”
“Uh, yeah.” My eyes refocus on the road. I tap my fingers to a steady beat. “You know what? I want the boys to meet all of you. How about we gather at the farmhouse before dance practice? I’ll order food. Call it a game night or something. I’ll introduce you, Kenya and Belle officially.”
“Yeah. I’d love that. Belle would too. And Kenya,” he chuckles like a man in love, “probably already has an outfit planned. Oh, I’ll send the name of a reputable nanny recommendation service too. They’re like Make It Marriage, but for caretakers.”
“Thanks, Alistair.”
“No prob. You heading to work now?”
I make a U-turn and slam my foot on the gas. “I’m going to clear something up with someone.”
“Is this someone tall and talkative and loves furniture?”
“Shut up, Alistair.”
He laughs. “Good luck with Sunny, man.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. I’m gonna need it.
