Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

Niko

"You should marry Chloe."

The napkin reaches my mouth barely in time to catch the water I just choked on at Ayana's words. It takes close to a minute to stop coughing and compose myself. We're drawing the attention of nearby diners, but that is the least of my concerns. Nor is it Ayana's, based on the grin she is wearing.

"Why would you say such a thing?" I finally manage to ask.

When I agreed to dinner out after dance practice, I did not know it would include relationship advice from a seven-year-old.

She lays her triangle of grilled cheese back on her plate and dusts her hands off as if preparing for a presentation. "Well, why not? Brook's dad just got married, and her mom's been married to her other mom since she was like three. You and Mom aren't married anymore either, so..." She trails off as if this is basic logic and I am unbearably slow.

I push my half-eaten sandwich aside and rest my elbows on the table. "And that is nice for them, Ayana. But Chloe and I are not a couple."

"But you could be."

"No, we...this is not your concern." I shake my head, wondering why I am trying to reason about adult relationships with a child whose future plan includes marrying her dog. "Chloe is your hockey coach, and she is a very nice person."

Ayana is undeterred. She begins ticking off her fingers, one by one. "And she's pretty, she's great with Paul, she's funny, she likes Bake Off , she makes the best quesadillas, she finds puzzle pieces faster than anybody, she's an awesome skater, she knows vanilla ice cream is a waste of time, she wears cool clothes...oh, and she smells good."

Fuck. Of course, all of those things are true—as well as many other tempting traits I have come to know. But Ayana must not let her mind go there. A man other than me will ultimately be the one enjoying and appreciating all that is Chloe.

"Chloe is a friend, Ayana. Like Brook is your friend." It is all she can ever be, despite our current arrangement. But we are only having fun—letting off steam. The fact that I cannot stop thinking about her lips around my cock and my hands fisting in her hair is only the result of a cock's universal ability to rule the thoughts of whichever man it is attached to.

"I might marry Brook. I mean, we like all the same stuff."

My brain is beginning to hurt. "I thought you were marrying Paul?"

"I haven't decided yet." She shrugs and picks up her sandwich again before taking a man-sized bite. My lips quirk at the sight, despite the turmoil she has just instigated.

We must move on from this topic, the sooner the better. But it is concerning that my behavior has perhaps prompted such notions about Chloe and me. We have been so careful, though, especially since that day at the ice rink with Eli's mother last week.

Yes, we did end up sleeping in the same bed the last few nights, but not intentionally. I am out of practice, so properly fucking Chloe and keeping her sated takes a toll on my energy. The first time it happened, I had just closed my eyes for a moment, fully intent on moving to the couch as soon as I caught my breath. The next thing I knew, the sun was streaming through the gap in the blinds, and Chloe's warm body was splayed across my chest, my hand cupped around one of her ass cheeks. There is a lot to be said for convenience.

We have not discussed it since that first night—and we never did have that conversation about the importance of keeping this between us—but we both know this is a temporary arrangement—a "situationship," if I understand Roadie's use of the term correctly—which is unlikely. There are enough English words to remember already; I do not understand the need to invent more.

Jealousy has risen its ugly head, which still baffles me since Chloe is not mine anywhere but in the bedroom. But our physical connection is so strong, perhaps I should not be overly surprised at my baser instincts overpowering reason.

The bottom line is that we are friends who are sexually compatible, but neither of us is looking for a relationship—despite what my daughter might wish.

I pull my plate in front of me once more and pick up my sandwich as I eye my daughter. "Well, considering that you will not be allowed to date until you are thirty years old, I would say you have time to decide."

She rolls her eyes and wraps both hands around her glass of milk. We chat about school, Paul, and our family in Kazahkstan through the rest of the meal, and then I return Ayana to her mother's house in time for bed.

Peyton declines to come out for a chat, a stark turnaround from her behavior at Ayana's hockey practice when she couldn't seem to stop talking. I suspect she has learned the hard truth from her lawyer, and her act at the rink was a last-ditch effort to charm me into...who knows what.

"Have a good day at school tomorrow," I tell Ayana as I hug her goodbye on the porch. Her tiny body feels so fragile sometimes, I am afraid I will break her. But my daughter is strong, I remind myself. "Listen to your teachers, yes?" I release her.

"I will," she promises before opening the door. "Give Paul a pat for me."

"I will," I return the promise.

A smile curves my lips when I pull into my garage to see Chloe's Bronco safely tucked into the third bay. It made no sense for her to continue parking in the driveway when the weather was so hot, despite her insistence that it was no big deal. All it took was temporarily denying her orgasm by pulling my fingers from her pretty pussy to get her to accept the extra garage door opener.

As soon as I open the door, Paul greets me with paws to my thighs and a wagging tail. "Off," I command, and he obeys with no fuss, deciding to run circles around me instead. "Your mistress says hello," I tell him with a scratch behind his ears.

"Hey!" Chloe appears around the corner from the kitchen, a patch of white on her cheek and her hair tied up with another of her kerchiefs. More white covers the front of her shirt, some of it dusted along her exposed collarbone. She looks good enough to eat. She ducks back into the kitchen, and I follow to see what she is up to.

"Coaching has already driven you to cocaine?" I quip as I turn the corner and stop short. Every surface is covered in cookies, muffins, pans, trays, flour, and lord knows what else.

"He tells jokes," she says, transferring cookies from a baking sheet to a plate. "How was dinner with your ballerina?"

"Good," I answer absently, my eyes still taking in the disaster surrounding us. "She wants you to send my mother your pancake recipe since you all appear to share the same sweet tooth." Chloe has confided secrets and stories from her past, and her vulnerability has compelled me to share some of my own. She now knows about the farm I grew up on, about Safiya's unconventional career, and also the importance of Ivan's role in my success. She cried when I revealed he sold his car without telling me in order to fund the travels that got me noticed by scouts. I decided then that sharing time was over and replaced her tears with orgasms.

"I'm relieved to hear you're the black sheep of the family when it comes to sugar," she responds before spotting my expression and biting her lip. Her gaze follows mine around the kitchen. "Uh, yeah. I guess I got a little carried away."

I approach and gently wipe the flour from her cheek with the pad of my thumb. I don't miss Chloe's intake of breath or the tightening of her nipples through the thin fabric of her top. She is so responsive, she makes it impossible not to touch her.

"I just..." She pauses, her breath whispering over my wrist. "I wanted to do something to thank you for...everything." When I lean in and nuzzle the skin under her ear, her head drops back, but her words continue in a breathy tumble, their meaning becoming almost nonsensical. "But it's hard baking for a guy who doesn't eat sweets, so I tried to find a recipe for... oh god ," she moans when I nip her earlobe and lave it with my tongue. "F-for healthy muffins," she continues, her body beginning to tremble when my hands slide along her hips to the hem of her skirt. "So I decided to say screw it and made my favorite blueberry ones instead."

My tongue finds her pulse point as her fingertips skate up my abs to my chest. "But then I remembered somebody telling me to use applesauce instead of..." I run the knuckles of one hand up her thigh to find her panties already damp. "Oh god ...b-butter, so I tried three different recipes for cookies and..." I push the gusset aside and plunge one finger deep. " Omigod ...they all tasted...terrible." She's panting now, and I would laugh at her determination to complete this detailed account of whatever destroyed my kitchen, but my cock is too painfully hard.

"So, you are making me terrible cookies to thank me for what?" I ask into her throat as I back her into the counter for leverage. She digs her nails into my pecs when I thrust another finger into her pussy.

"F-for letting me stay for so long." Her breath hitches on the last word as my thumb finds her clit. She moans before saying, "My duplex is ready."

My fingers still inside her, and I pull my head back to look down at her. Flushed cheeks, damp lips, half-lidded eyes. She is a dream come true. "Why did you stop?" Her voice is husky.

I open my mouth to answer, not having the first clue what words will come out, but my phone rings from my back pocket. My mind still swirling, I absently pull it from my pants with my free hand, and we both look down at the screen.

Jane.

I move to set the device on the counter, but Chloe grabs it and pulls away, causing my fingers to slide out of her. "It's Jane. You have to answer." She shoves the phone at me, pressing the accept call button.

I have not even had the chance to put the phone to my ear or say hello when Jane's voice comes over the line, loud enough for both of us to hear.

"Guess what I have in my hand?"

I awkwardly shift the phone to my ear, but she does not wait for my reply. "The judge's final order!"

Chloe gasps and I stumble forward, dropping one hand to the counter to brace my body.

"Niko?" Jane asks.

"I am here." My voice sounds foreign. There is something stuck in my throat.

A warm hand rests on my back, stroking up and down my spine as Jane continues at a breakneck pace, "Everything has been filed. And I already submitted our proposed custody schedule covering now through the hockey season. We'll create a different one to start next July—with the assumption that you'll be busy winning the Stanley Cup in June, of course," she continues, but I only hear bits and pieces of it. My mind is too focused on the miracle that I finally have my Ayana back. "Things will be easier once you retire, but we've outlined plenty of time for you two between now and then—starting with weekends and two weeks at your house beginning the first of the month!"

That gets my full attention, and I straighten. Now that I have dates and this is all a reality, I must find childcare. And it cannot be Chloe anymore.

As if hearing my thoughts, her arms come around my waist from behind and she squeezes me tight, her cheek resting against my back.

"Listen to me talking your ear off." Jane laughs. "Peyton has another week to respond with changes, but we were generous with the schedule—and alterations can easily be made as we go. We just have to make sure we keep following official procedures." She finally exhales and pauses. "But, Niko?"

"Yes. I am here," I repeat, seemingly unable to produce any other words.

"You're done proving yourself." Jane's voice has gone gentle, but still loud enough for Chloe to hear based on the prolonged squeeze she delivers.

Part of me wants to laugh at my lawyer's words. When is a man ever done proving his worth? But I understand her meaning.

"You're her dad, and you finally get to enjoy it."

"Thank you, Jane. Truly." My voice sounds a little more like my own now.

"You're welcome." I can hear her fingernails begin to clack on her keyboard. "I'll let you go, but I'll be in touch. Crack open a bottle of champagne, okay?"

She hangs up, and my phone hand drops to the counter, the device staring blandly up at me as if it did not just change my life forever.

I finally have the right to be my daughter's father in a full and meaningful way, just as I have always fought for. And there is no way in hell I am going to fuck it up.

"I'm so happy for you, Nikolai," Chloe says on another squeeze, but I don't turn to her yet and I don't say a word. Because the one word we both know is coming is the one I am not ready to say.

Goodbye.