Henry

HENRY

I check my phone for the hundredth time today, waiting for some kind of response from Paige, but it's still radio silence. She didn't come in today, leaving a message in the middle of the night for a family emergency.

As much as I tried not to read into it this morning—after everything that happened last night, the longer I go without hearing from her, the less I can stand it.

Eli shows up like he's having an equally hard time, and he sinks into one of the seats across from my desk.

Our phones chime at the same time, and we both check with the same speed.

Everything's fine. I'll be in Monday.

That's it? Everything is obviously not fine.

Eli's dark expression mirrors my feelings back at me. He wipes a hand down his face. "Did we fuck this up?"

I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. "I have no idea."

But I need to find out. I can't go through this again. Go another four years without her. I stand abruptly, and Eli raises his brow at me.

"I can't sit around here anymore today. I'm going to bring the rest of my work home."

Eli doesn't move an inch. "Mm-hmm. You're going to go check on her."

I slip on my jacket and glare at him. "And what if I am?"

He shrugs. "Can't say I haven't had the same thought myself. But she might not want to see us right now."

Grabbing my briefcase, I give him a pointed look. "Lock my door when you leave."

Eli's laughter follows me out of the office. I stop in front of my assistant's desk. "Sabrina. I'm leaving for the day. I'm waiting for Wilkenson to call, so forward him to my cell. Otherwise, I'm out of the office."

"Yes, Mr. Walker. Is everything okay?"

"Of course, it is. Feel free to start your weekend a little early today. You deserve it." I send her a smile, and she beams back at me.

I don't linger though. Every step of the journey to Paige's apartment is torture. But when Liam is pulling up in front of her apartment building, I hesitate.

What am I doing? I should just leave her alone.

But the ache in my chest cranks at the thought.

No, I did that last time, and look how that turned out. I step out into the brisk late afternoon air and tell Liam not to wait for me. Perhaps, it's part optimism and part punishment. I don't have much of a plan if she won't let me in.

It's all I can think about on my way up the stairs, as I stare at her door, as I knock, as I wait patiently.

After a few minutes, the door opens halfway to reveal a disheveled Paige—hair falling out of its bun, circles under her eyes, swimming in an oversized shirt covered in stains, and my black sweatpants.

I can barely take a breath at the sight of her. My chest squeezes tight, and I reach for her.

Paige steps back. "Now's not really a good time."

Narrowing my eyes at her, I look back into her apartment—what little I can see of it. "Am I interrupting?"

Meeting my gaze, she sighs and deflates, swinging the door wider to let me in. "No. Not really."

I don't like how tired she looks. And all the questions running a marathon in my head today are on the tip of my tongue until I see a little brown-haired boy propped up at the end of her couch.

Paige closes the door behind me and I look her over from a new perspective. The stains on her shirt are a mix of old and fresh. The strain around her eyes is worry, not regret.

"I thought Penelope was the one with the kid."

Her harsh laughter is soft, closing her eyes with the weariness of a single mother. One that just graduated from university with honors. "Nope."

When her eyes open, the vibrancy of those baby blues is back as she looks at her son. She's moving toward him without a second thought, and I can't seem to move as she gathers the little boy up in her arm and tucks the blanket around him.

The way he snuggles into her makes my heart expand and simultaneously burns me with jealousy. I've wanted a family for so long. A wife and children.

And the woman I want has a child already. Her own little built-in family.

Before I know it, I'm lowering myself onto the couch cushion beside her.

Blue eyes blink at me from under a mop of light-brown hair, his hand is curled around his nose as he sucks his thumb. Paige pets his hair back from his forehead and plants a kiss there, lingering.

"Paxton. This is ."

He stares at me but doesn't acknowledge me otherwise. I tug gently at his elbow as a way of greeting him. "Hi, Paxton. Nice to meet you."

Paige sighs. "I know I shouldn't let him suck his thumb at his age, but when he's sick, I just can't seem to keep to it."

"No judgment here."

Her smile is a half frown. "Thanks. Plenty of self-imposed judgment to go around. And see, Paxton, my boss had to come make sure I wasn't lying about having a family emergency."

A hot flash of embarrassment douses me. "I didn't?—"

The teasing glint in her eyes stops me.

"I was worried about you."

Slowly, her hand reaches out to me, and I take it, linking our fingers together. A cartoon runs softly in the background as I take in Paige as a mom, cuddling her sick kid to her chest, nuzzling his forehead.

Paige murmurs low. "I think it's time for some more Tylenol, Bub."

Paxton squirms and scrunches his nose.

"I know you don't like it, but it's that or another cool bath."

The boy blows a raspberry back at her, and I can't help but smile.

"Well, those are your choices, mister. We can't let your fever get back over a hundred, or we might fry your poor little brain. You don't want that, do you?"

A small grunt.

"Think you can sit here with for a minute?"

The tiniest nod melts my heart.

"Alright. Here we go." She stands with him in her arms and turns to deposit him beside me. The moment she lets him go, he slumps against my side, thumb still firmly in his mouth and eyes on the TV.

It doesn't last long before he's looking up at me again. Strange just how intelligent this little guy seems. Must get that from Paige.

The longer we stare at each other, the more I wonder about where Paxton's father is. Who his father is. He's what, roughly three? Gestation times and the possibilities take my mind for a quick detour before Paige returns with a little cup of purple medicine.

Paxton is a trooper and takes it with only a little coaxing. Paige is sweet but firm, and once he has it down, he asks, "Halloween?"

Her smile is gorgeous when it's all for him. "Of course, stinker. Halloween it is."

She grabs the remote and scrolls to a Halloween-themed kids show and nods me toward the kitchen. "We need to get some food in that little belly."

Paxton nods and focuses on the TV. I wait until we're beside the fridge to brace her shoulders with my hands.

"He's okay?"

Another deep, exhausting breath. "Yeah. He's okay. Had a fever over 102 last night when I got home. I kind of freaked out."

"Sounds like you had a long night."

A laugh huffs out of her, guilt warring across her features. "You could say that."

"Let me cook you dinner." The offer is out before I can think better of it. I don't often cook for women.

"No. I can't?—"

"You can. And you need the rest. Go sit with him, and I'll make you both something."

Paige snorts, and it's the cutest thing I've ever heard. "I was just going to make him a sandwich. He won't be able to eat a lot."

"Does he like pasta?"

She frowns up at me but says, "Yes."

"Perfect. Go rest while I whip something up."

She shakes her head but does as I say. It doesn't take me long to pull ingredients and throw a pasta dish together. I leave the small bowl for Paxton's simple, but I add onions and garlic, crushed tomatoes and cream, to our plates.

Once I have everything set, Paige carries Paxton over to the table, and he eats with no trouble.

"See? Easy," I say, and she gives me the glare I know all too well from my childhood. Still, it cracks a smile across my face.

Throughout dinner, I make faces at Paxton, and his giggle is the best thing I've heard in a long while.

It's strange though. Paxton and I connect easily, even though he's sick. I like him.

He's a mess after, so there's no getting around the bath. Still, I linger on Paige's couch after I clean up.

I swear she's more harried after she's done. "It's going to be a whole process to put him to bed. You don't have to stick around?—"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Fight lingers in her gaze as she examines me.

"Why don't you let me read him a story or something while you shower. Give you a few minutes to yourself."

A flash of desperate desire in her eyes sparks a reaction in every part of my body I've been shutting down all evening. "Okay. Thank you."

Reading to Paxton is easy, and he's snoring before I'm done with If You Happen to Have a Dinosaur . I tuck him in and retreat to the couch to wait on Paige.

When she comes out, her hair is wrapped in a towel, she's got a new, oversized shirt on without a bra, and shorts that barely peek out past the hem. My stomach clenches at the sight of all that skin. Her long, supple legs call for my touch, but I refrain as she sits beside me.

She's so fucking gorgeous.

I breathe in the scent of her shampoo and will my cock not to get hard.

"You should get some sleep while you can."

"Mmm." In an instant, she's on her knees, crawling across my lap, and threading her fingers through my hair. "That's not what I want right now."

Fuck me, but I don't need another hint. I grab her by the waist and pull her closer as she kisses me.

I flash back to our first night together. To last night. But now, there's so many more layers to Paige. Even as she rolls her hips over mine, I want more than to simply make each other feel good.

How can I explain it to her though? Without seeming too needy, too overbearing, too pushy. Too fast. If you can call four years of waiting before I snapped fast.

Paige grinds herself over me, and the warmth of her bare skin under my palms makes me crave so many things that we don't have the time or space to explore. Instead, I enjoy the movement of her hips, fingers digging into her ass until I can't take it anymore.

The elastic of her shorts is loose enough that I don't have to fight my way under them. And I'm greeted with the slippery seam of her sex parting for me. Her hips tilt forward and take two of my fingers without much goading.

She's so wet for me. I need to play with her. To give her what she needs to get some proper rest.

Her moan rumbles into me, hips sinking into my thrusts. The small movements have her free breasts swaying against her cotton shirt, nipples hard and begging to be touched. Soft and smooth, her bare waist fits perfectly in my grip. I stroke her rib with my thumb, and she shivers.

Paige twists her hand in my hair and hovers her mouth over mine. " ."

I hold my breath, marking the changes in her body—in mine—as she bears down on me. But she pouts just inches above me.

She says my name again, a plea. " More ."