Tell Me You Love Me ✓

29. Alike And Different

As it turned out, Greer's brain battle concerning sex had been for nothing. Jackson didn't touch her again. Not a single time. No palm kissing. Hair twirling. Leg against leg. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Bastard.

Once he helped get Emma in bed, he'd said goodnight and left without as much as a peck on the cheek. Greer couldn't figure him out. One minute he promised all sorts of things, and the next stayed as far away as possible. Well, two could play that game. At least when she teased, she followed through. So what if she tortured him a bit at his office? Wasn't like she'd given him a case of blue balls. She wondered about the name for the female version, because she had it. Pink balls? No. Had to be a woman part. Pink ovaries? No. More localized than that. She forced her legs together.

Flopping onto her back, she stared at the ceiling fan. The dim light in the room caused the rotation to look like birds circling overhead. Dizzy from the movement, she squeezed eyes tight. She had enough stress over the impending court battle and didn't need any drama from him. He needed to deliver on promises. Especially the dirty kind.

She glanced at the clock. Five. Too early to get up, but she had readings to do, so might as well make use of her insomnia. She rolled out of bed, sat on the edge, and recalled Jackson's secretary and how she'd looked at Greer. By now, probably the whole Bellefonte clan knew about the weird girl showing up at the office. She disliked being judged. Maybe that's why he'd turned cold toward her. Realized what a misfit she'd be. Fine. She didn't have to dump him, he'd taken care of that. Forcing one foot in front of the other, she dragged her tired body into the bathroom and started the shower. When she finished, she checked her phone and found a text from Mr. Mooney. His recommended S.O.B. wanted to meet after lunch.

She'd need a sitter for Emma, but shouldn't call at this hour. Not everyone in the world woke this early. Only geriatrics and sexually frustrated women. After blow drying her hair, she gathered it to the top of her head and twisted the strands into a bun. Wouldn't bother with makeup. Just some moisturizer and lip gloss. Changes needed to go deeper than hippie. Delve into organic. No more wild hairdos. Crazy colors. Tattoos. Nope. It was time for her to become someone other than Evergreen Starkey.

Standing inside the closet, she studied the choices and pulled two items from the rack. Black jeans. White cotton shirt. Nobody could find fault with such a classic garb. From now until she went before a judge, she'd fit in with the rest of the world, because it expected certain things from a woman who had the responsibility of raising a child. It'd be different if she were Emma's mother, but replacements were held to a higher standard.

Ready for the day, she ambled to the kitchen for toast and coffee, then powered up her computer and began the first draw.

By ten, she'd finished all the readings she'd neglected for the past few days. It'd been weeks since she'd had such a clean slate. She took a moment to send a quick text to the babysitter, and went back for a third cup of brew.

From behind, two arms wrapped around her waist. She smiled, already used to Emma's early morning hugs. "Hey, baby."

"I had fun yesterday. Father Jackson is so nice." Mordecai and Medusa twined around Emma's feet, so she let go of Greer and picked them up.

"I did too. Come over here and let's talk a minute." Greer stepped to the dining table and Emma took the seat across from her. "Jackson isn't really a minister. I called him Padre and Father and all those names to be silly. It was my way of teasing him. Maybe you should call him Mr. Jackson."

"Can I call him padre?"

Greer took a deep breath. She wondered if Emma knew the word meant father. If she did, was this her way of getting a dad back into her life? At least a surrogate? She'd latched onto him as if he was more than a friend. While Greer struggled to make the right decisions and watch out for Emma, it was second nature to him. Everything was easy for him. "A good choice. Now, how about French toast?"