10. CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

G rowing up with two doctors for parents and over-achieving sisters, Justine's family dinner table rarely happened. Usually at least one of her parents was working at the hospital, but often it was both. And when a family dinner did happen, it was full of one-upping, lectures and quizzes on various topics. From science to politics to history, her parents—but mostly her mother—turned dinner into a trivia game show. And the winner got dessert, while the losers had to do the dishes.

Justine never won.

Not once.

And it wasn't because she didn't know the answer.

It was because she didn't say it fast enough.

She knew the answer to every question, knew it immediately, but so did her sisters. Tasha and Daniela were just faster.

Dinner around the table at Bennett's house was so refreshingly normal. She was close to bursting with happiness by the time Aya got up to take her dishes to the dishwasher.

They chatted about normal things. Not world history, not the Latin term for the femoral artery— arteria femoralis —and definitely not which state was the last to ratify the nineteenth amendment—Mississippi. Instead, Bennett and his daughters talked about their day at school, what they learned, who they played with on the playground, and what they were looking forward to during their summer vacation. Apparently, Aya was being pushed around by some girl named Carnation—which was a godawful name in Justine's opinion—and Bennett gave her the most supportive and easy-to-understand advice. Or rather, he didn't really give her advice at all. He listened and he helped her work to a solution on her own with carefully worded questions and suggestions.

It was an absolute joy to watch and hear. It brought light into her heart and made her see him in an entirely new way. She knew he was a good dad. That was evident the moment she met him. But he was also so patient. And a good listener. He corrected the girls' behavior gently, never raised his voice, and even when he had to keep reminding Aya to close her mouth when she chewed, he never made her feel any shame about it.

Then, as if she wasn't some weird interloper spectator, they included her in on their conversations as well.

"What do you think I should do about Carnation, Justine?" Aya asked, popping edamame beans onto her plate to make a pile.

"I think your dad's suggestions sound really good to me. Just avoid her. And when you can't avoid her, use your words to tell her how her actions are unkind and even if she doesn't want to be your friend, she still needs to keep her hands to herself and be kind. Then go to a teacher."

Aya nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. I mean, she's just such a brat, you know? I do think if I grow up to be a firefighter, I won't put out her house if it catches on fire."

"Are you going to set it on fire?" Emme asked, spearing a piece of broccoli with her fork. "I think you can go to jail for that."

"You can. It's called arson," Bennett confirmed with just a hint of fear in his tone, like he thought Aya might actually torch this kid's house. "And we won't be committing it." He gave all three of them stern looks, his gaze softening and his lips curling into a small smile when he focused on Justine. "Got it?"

Justine and the girls all nodded and said, "Got it."

"But if her house catches on fire from like a birthday candle or … or lightning, I don't have to put it out," Aya argued. "And I won't go to jail because I didn't make the lightning."

"How about we stop talking about future plans to potentially let someone burn to death and just focus on right now and dealing with this little playground bully, hmm?" Bennett shook his head. "Jeez, kiddo."

Justine snickered as she brought her water glass to her lips.

As sad as it was to hear that Aya was having difficulties with a child at school, the conversation surrounding it was extremely entertaining.

"Yeah," Aya said with a deep sigh. "I'll do those things. But I might tell her I hope lightning strikes her house when she's old. Like thirty." Her eyes went wide and serious. "She'll be so slow getting out of the house because she'll be old."

"Thirty is not old," Bennett exclaimed. "I'm forty-two. Do you think I have one foot in the grave?"

Aya's expression turned confused. "That's really old. And your feet are both under the table."

Bennett blew out a big breath and glanced at Justine. "Help," he mouthed.

They finished dinner with lighter conversation about the girls' summer goals. Then Emme and Aya cleared the table, putting all the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

"You have them well trained," Justine commented, thanking Emme for removing her plate.

"Just removed the shock collar on the little one last week. It's been a slow process. Took forever to house train the older one too."

Emme understood his joke and shot him a playful, exaggerated glare.

"Can we have a treat, Daddy?" Aya asked.

He nodded. "I think there's still sorbet in the freezer."

"Justine, do you want some sorbet?"

"As long as it's not tomato flavored."

Aya made a face of disgust. "That would make me barf."

Justine chuckled and faced Bennett where they sat at the table. "Thank you for opening your home to me. This is … unconventional, but also lovely. You have a beautiful family."

His expression turned heated for just a moment, and a sexy red, rose into his cheeks. "I am really sorry about the cabin and the flood. I feel terrible."

"It happens. Not your fault."

Pressing his lips together, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then pushed away and stood up, taking the remaining dishes from the table to the kitchen. The girls were already getting bowls and spoons ready for sorbet.

Definitely not wanting to be labeled a freeloader, Justine gathered napkins, and a couple of forgotten utensils, and joined the three of them in the kitchen. Both girls smiled brightly at her as she put the cutlery in the dishwasher.

"It's like we're family. All of us in here together," Aya said with a wide-eyed innocence that pulled viciously at Justine's heartstrings.

Justine's gaze met Bennett's and even though he wasn't as nearly as freaked out as she was, she could see the trepidation on his face.

"I, uh … I'm not actually feeling very well," she stammered. "I think I'll skip the sorbet tonight and just retire to my room, if that's okay?"

"Whaaaaat?" Aya's pout made Justine want to give the child everything she ever asked for in the world, be it a pony or a bowl of raspberry sorbet.

Bennett gently squeezed his youngest daughter's shoulder. "Justine's had a long day."

"Want us to bring you some sorbet to your room?" Emme asked.

"No, I … I think I'll skip dessert."

"Does your tummy hurt?" Aya probed. "Do you need some Tums? Or a belly massage? Daddy massages my tummy when it hurts, or if I have to poo but can't." She glanced up at her father. "You can massage Justine's tummy for her, right?" Her gaze swung back to Justine. "Do you need to poo? Because we have gummies for that. I was constipated after I refused to eat my vegetables for a week. So Daddy bought me these gummies that make you poop. Do you need one? Daddy, grab Justine a poop gummy."

Bennett groaned, dropped his gaze, and shook his head.

"I … I have to go," Justine blurted before dashing out of the kitchen and taking the stairs two at a time. She didn't intend to slam the bedroom door, but the window was open and a warm gust of wind kicked it shut with abrupt force.

She bounced a little when she sat down on Bennett's bed, staring at the hardwood floor and the dark blue runner.

This was a terrible idea.

She needed to leave.

Staying here, in this house with such a wonderful man and such captivating children … it wasn't fair to any of them. Not to Bennett, not to the girls, and not to Justine's heart.

But she also couldn't bring herself to pack up and leave.

Eventually, the sky outside grew dark and noises in the house drifted upstairs where the girls were getting ready for bed.

Bennett deterred Aya from knocking on Justine's door twice. The deep sigh of confusion and regret from the little seven-year-old made its way through the thick wooden door and buried itself in Justine's chest.

"Did we do something wrong?" Aya asked as Bennett tucked her into bed. "Did I say something to make Justine mad?"

"Where's Mummy Kitty?" Bennett asked, ignoring her question. "Where's your stuffy?"

"Mummy Kitty is right here, under my pillow. She's fine, Dad. But did I do something to make Justine mad?"

Justine crept closer to her closed bedroom door to eavesdrop better.

"No, Little Bug. I don't think so. I think Justine is just tired and the change from the cabin to a house full of people—particularly a house with two little girls who never stop asking questions—" Aya started to giggle which meant he was probably tickling her. "Is probably overwhelming."

"When will I get to stay up later like Emme?"

"When you don't turn into a Crabby Kathy after seven o'clock. Maybe this summer we can talk about shuffling your bedtime. But right now, when it takes you twenty minutes to drag your grumpy butt out of bed in the morning, seven thirty is bedtime."

"I'm not grumpy."

"I was worried your face was going to stay that way yesterday morning."

"It's because I had to go to school yesterday. I don't frown on the weekends. Today is Saturday and I've been happy all day. I even woke up happy."

"Goodnight, my sweet, argumentative child."

"Can I say goodnight to Justine?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because she's probably asleep. And you asking all of these questions has probably woken her up."

"Then I can say goodnight to her now that she's awake."

"Aya Lucia Lopez McEvoy, it is bedtime. I mean it."

All Justine could hear was a child-like growl, but she only had to imagine what kind of a Grumpy Cat face Aya was making. She probably had her arms crossed over her chest and her brows furrowed until they met in the middle, like kissing caterpillars. That image made her smile.

"Give me a kiss."

"Fine. But this kiss has anger in it."

"Felt like it just had love in it."

More growling.

"I love you. Good night."

His footsteps padded away down the hallway, then down the stairs where soft murmuring between him and Emme echoed, but were indecipherable.

Justine went about brushing her teeth and washing her face. Bennett's bedroom—his whole house really—was incredible. But the bathroom was a work of art. With two big sinks, a deep soaker tub in front of a huge window with the view of the sound, and a spectacular stand up shower with a bench. She looked forward to trying it out after her run in the morning.

Then the idea of trying it out with Bennett bombarded her brain and her cheeks grew warm.

She was just rubbing lotion into her legs when there was a delicate rap at her bedroom door. It couldn't have been Bennett based on how low the knock was.

Her mouth started to twitch into a smile as she reached for the knob and silently opened it. Big brown eyes stared up at her hopefully.

Not saying a word, she opened the door enough for Aya to enter, then closed it just as quietly.

"I'm sorry if I said something to make you leave and not have dessert with us," Aya said softly. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her face was blotchy like she'd been crying.

Justine sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Aya over. "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. I'm … I was overwhelmed with how welcome you all made me feel. I didn't grow up in a family like yours."

"Were you parents mean to you?"

"No. They were … they just weren't fun parents. They're not fun people. They made my sisters and I compete for everything. Even dinner was full of quiz questions and only the winner got dessert."

Aya's eyes went buggy and her mouth dropped open. "That's so mean."

"I guess I just got sad and overwhelmed at how wonderful your life and family are and how …" She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment to find the right words. "How challenging dinners were with my family. I never got dessert."

"Because you didn't win the quizzes?"

Justine nodded.

"But you're a doctor. You're smart."

"My parents and my sisters are also doctors. And it's not that I didn't know the answers, it was just that my sisters were faster."

"Well, that's not fair."

"No … I suppose not. But my mother liked to tell me that life wasn't fair, and she was preparing me for life. That in order to get dessert, you needed to be a shark."

"Sharks are mean. They bite people's legs off when they're swimming."

"That's true. So when you said we were like a family and offered me dessert, it just made me sad about my life when I was your age. I just needed some space."

Aya nodded, seeming to comprehend what Justine told her. "I'm sorry your mom was mean. I think if you get the answer right, you should get dessert. My teacher tells us that it's not like only one person in the class can get ten out of ten on their spelling test. We can all get ten out of ten. We can all do well."

"Your teacher is right. We can all succeed. We can all do well and we don't have to be sharks and bite off other people's legs to do it." She squeezed Aya's hand, but that just prompted the little girl to throw her arms around Justine's neck and hug her so tight her little body started to shake.

"We didn't eat all the sorbet, so if you want some later, you can have some."

They were still locked in a tight embrace and that offer of dessert was what broke Justine's dam of composure and made her hug the little girl back. Not as tightly, but boy, did she want to. Her throat grew tight and unshed tears stung the back of her eyes. "Thank you," she murmured into Aya's blonde curls, that smelled like coconuts.

Aya pulled away and her breath stuttered as she smiled. "I'm glad you're not mad at me."

"I don't think I could ever be mad at you."

"Emme and my dad get mad at me."

"Well, they're crazy."

That made her giggle.

"But you should probably get back to bed before your dad—"

"Aya?" Bennett's voice tinged with panic swept through the closed bedroom door. "Aya?" He shuffled down the hallway, presumably to check the bathroom. "Em, where's your sister?"

"I dunno."

Justine gave Aya a look that said she needed to come clean and the little girl nodded, her cheeks getting rosier as she prepared to meet her fate. Justine escorted her to the door and opened it just as Bennett was lifting his fist to knock.

"Hi, Dad."

Relief banished the worry on his face. But as quickly as that relief came, it was gone, replaced with what could only be a melee of embarrassment and irritation.

"Aya Lucia—"

"I know, Dad. You don't need to say all my names. I'm sorry." She glanced up at Justine. "Eat some dessert. It'll make you feel better." Then she muttered another apology to her father and with hunched shoulders, walked herself to her room.

Bennett's mouth hung open, his eyes just as wide as he watched his youngest child put herself back to bed. Emme was brushing her teeth in the doorway of the bathroom watching it all with mild interest. "I told you she would sneak out," she said, shaking her head, then returning to the bathroom to spit.

Bennett rolled his eyes at Emme before returning his gaze to Justine. "I am so sorry."

"It's fine. Really, it's okay. In fact, I appreciate her coming. She's very mature for seven."

His eyes formed thin slits. "She's exasperating for seven."

"Aren't all seven-year-olds exasperating?"

"Maybe. She just seems more so."

"She's clever, and sweet, and empathic. She's a joy. Both girls are."

Emme emerged from the bathroom in a pair of pajama pants with heart-shaped cherries on them, and a black T-shirt. She gave a big yawn before tying her curly brown hair up into a ponytail on the top of her head like a pineapple. "Mom taught us this," she said. "Keeps the curls from getting too crazy while we sleep." She smiled sleepily at her dad. "'Night, Dad."

"Good night, Sunshine." He ran his hand over the back of her head and kissed her forehead. "I'll be in to tuck you in in just a sec."

She yawned again. "'Night, Justine."

"Goodnight, Emme."

Emerson smiled and disappeared into her room, which was on the other side of the bathroom.

Bennett glanced once more at Justine. "I'm sorry if we overwhelmed you. You absolutely don't have to eat with us. And please don't let my daughters bully you into it. Disappointment won't kill them."

A smile tried to grace her mouth, but it didn't work. "It's nice to be invited and included in things. I just … I got in my head. I'm sorry I left so abruptly."

"No need to apologize."

God, she hated how formal and stiff their interactions were now. It felt wooden and fake. Did he feel it too? Did it feel as awkward and frustrating for him as it did her?

"Well, goodnight. And there is still sorbet in the freezer. You're welcome to it." He smiled once more, this time a sad smile that left the corners of his eyes untouched, then disappeared into Emme's room.

Justine didn't wait around to see him leave Emme's room, and quickly sequestered herself back into her little hovel. It was only eight thirty, but she was used to retiring early, given that she got up at five o'clock to run.

With a heavy sigh, she climbed into bed and reached for her book. She was determined to get through at least a few of the paperbacks she brought with her—even if it killed her.

But she must have re-read the same paragraph sixteen times because her brain was too tuned into the sounds of the house. The sounds that Bennett was making downstairs. Then upstairs in the bathroom when he came to brush his teeth.

Was he wearing a shirt?

What did his feet look like?

She'd never been a foot person—she actually found them kind of gross—but something told her Bennett had big feet. Nice feet.

Why the hell did that thought pop into her head?

She slammed the heel of her palm against her forehead. "Stop it. Just. Stop."

It was ten o'clock by the time she turned out the light and snuggled under the covers. Under Bennett's covers. Because she was in Bennett's bed. Where he slept. Where he … did other things that most people did. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to open up his nightstand drawer and snoop. But he probably took any lube or masturbatory devices out before she moved in. He wasn't an idiot.

He was the opposite.

He was considerate. He was kind. He was patient.

He was smart.

He was sexy.

He was … everything she'd ever hoped for in a partner.

Too bad she didn't deserve him.