Page 55 of Off Limits

“Ex-husband,” I correct her. “And this is Dani’s home. She’s welcome to live here for as long as she likes.”

“Oh, sorry,” she says with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I forgot that you two are BFF roommates now. Talk about an odd couple!”

Danica turns exasperated eyes to me. “Can I be excused, Dad?”

“Of course,” I answer quietly.

“Please!” adds Melanie. “It’s good vibes only at this table. We don’t need your mopey energy.”

I keep an eye on Dani as she climbs the stairs, wondering if letting her mother stay here is the best thing for her after all. Melanie was never a great parent to Danica, but it seems like since she’s come back she’s worse. She ignores Danica or treats her as an unwelcome stranger. It’s as if the minute Danica turned eighteen—or rather, shortly before she turned eighteen, when she decided to leave her and go to New Mexico—Melanie just washed her hands of her daughter.

Downstairs on the sectional after dinner, I toss and turn. I spent as much time cleaning the kitchen after dinner as I could tolerate, Melanie drinking wine and yapping at me the entire time. When I couldn’t take it anymore I told her I was going to bed and she gave an exaggerated pout.

“I thought we could talk, J.L. About things.”

“About money, you mean,” I’d responded bitterly. “You’re not getting any from me until you sign the divorce papers. Then you can have the generous alimony we already agreed on.”

“It’s not just about the money, you know!” she snapped, and I steeled myself for a confession of love. I’d fallen for those plenty of times in the past. But this time Melanie outdid even herself, not bothering to hide her selfish interest. “It’s about the lifestyle! Living in this house and being the architect’s wife…I liked that life, J.L.”

I picked my briefcase up off the floor and pulled out a copy of the papers I’d printed earlier that day. “Mel, the sooner you sign them, the sooner you get the alimony.”

That’s when she’d torn the pages in half with a scream, calling me an ignorant fucking asshole, and I’d walked away. Hours later, and I’m still staring at the ceiling wondering what the fuck I’ve done. It feels like I’ve invited the devil into our home.

I can’t stop thinking about Danica. All I wanted was for Melanie to somehow heal the wound she’d ripped into Dani’s heart by leaving her, but having her around is only making it worse. I don’t know why Melanie can’t connect with her daughter, why she won’t, but Danica is listless and deflated in her presence, the spark that had just started coming back to her flickering out once again.

It breaks my heart to see the way Danica becomes a shadow around her mother, when she’s so obviously meant to shine.

I’m aching for my stepdaughter in every way. Aching to see her happy again, and missing the cozy little situation we’d started creating in her mother’s absence. It’s been nearly two days since I’ve so much as touched her and I’m craving her.

There’s a reckless part of me that doesn’t care if Melanie finds out about Dani and me, the same part that wants to sneak into my stepdaughter’s room right now while her mother is sleeping next door. But I hesitate, considering that if Melanie thought I was having any kind of sexual relationship with her daughter, our divorce could get very ugly indeed.

I debate it for a long while, trying to talk myself out of it, but it’s a losing battle. Eventually I promise myself I’ll be so quiet Mel will never know, and I tiptoe up the stairs and through the house and slowly push Dani’s bedroom door open.

The moon makes a bright outline of her sleeping form on the bed, highlighting the jutting arc of her hip and right angle of her shoulder, down to the mass of curls tossed across her pillow.

“Dani,” I whisper. “Dani.”

“Dad?” Her voice is rough with sleep.

“Yes, sweetie.”

She sits up, rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?”

“It’s late.” I take a seat on the edge of the bed and run my hand over her hair. “Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay. Is Mom asleep?”

“Yes, baby. She’s fast asleep, but I miss my girl. Is it okay if I lie here for a while with you?”

“Yes,” she says with a sleepy smile. I lift the covers and she scoots over to make room for me, snuggling in under my arm as I stretch out on my back. I lower my hand around her to enfold her against me.

She slides a bare leg over my sweatpants-clad one. “What if Mom finds you here in the morning?”

“Mm,” I make an inadvertent groaning noise as her knee rubs lightly against my crotch. Her question sounds erotic to me. “She won’t. She sleeps late, remember?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, running a hand over my t-shirt down to the bulge in my pants, and cupping my package through the material.

“Fuck,” I growl. “Careful, baby, you’re going to get me hard.”