“Zoey means she can operate the remote,” I explain.
Morris quirks a brow at me but passes the remote to my daughter. “Have at it, little lady,” he says.
Zoey nods and presses her lips together to bite back her excitement.
And even that, my daughter’s joy that she is going to be allowed to try to operate the remote, guts me. She is used to keeping quiet in the car whenever we were with Jerry. He preferred that she play in her room alone or go to friends’ houses to keep play dates away from his home.
Zoey is courteous and attentive and has great manners, far beyond her six years. She knows her place, well-trained through two years of yelling, anger, and acting out. Not by her. She is the child, but Jerry is the one who threw tantrums. Dangerous, terrible tantrums.
Within a matter of seconds, Zoey has the television set on, and she’s launched the app for a streaming service on the screen.
“It needs your password,” she says sweetly. “You really haven’t watched TV in a long time!” She seems to be able to roll with this new energy much more easily than I am. She gives Morris a delighted smile. “I can type it in if you know what it is.”
Morris coughs lightly into his hand. “Oh, shiiii…shucks. I don’t think I can even remember my password.” He looks at me with a pained expression on his face.
“She’s got this,” I reassure him.
“Okay,” Zoey says, taking charge. She stands from the couch and walks up to Morris. “Do you have an e-mail address? I can help you reset your password, but you’ll need to get into your e-mail.”
I nod at Morris, urging him to trust my daughter. He pulls his phone from his pocket and starts opening apps. I need a minute to process what I’m seeing. What’s changing right before my eyes.
Zoey, in a matter of minutes, went from that same scared little thing that I saw to her bright, happy self. The self I saw whenever I was alone with my daughter. The self I adored and nurtured and would do anything for. The self I wasn’t going to allow to be hidden or harmed anymore.
And while we both have a long way to go, watching Morris and Zoey work on resetting the password together brings me a feeling I haven’t had in a long time—peace.
But of course, I can’t let the moment last. While I know Zoey is safe and working her way into being able to watch TV, our problems won’t be quite so easily solved.
I grab my phone and check my missed calls.
Four.
I have four missed calls from Jerry.
Factoring in the time difference, Jerry shouldn’t be expecting a check-in call from me to confirm that we landed for at least another three hours.
My heart races. He’s left three messages, but for some reason, he didn’t leave a message after the fourth call. Morris and Zoey are still hunched over his phone, resetting his password.
“Okay, now pick something easy to remember and easy to spell, Morris.” Zoey is giving out sage advice. “You don’t want to forget it or have to type it in a hundred times because you keep spelling it wrong.”
“Okay,” Morris says, taking this whole task very seriously. “What do you think? MyTV?” He curls his lips into a silly grin, and the way the trimmed beard spreads over a dimple in his cheek gives me an unfamiliar tingle inside. He’s so goddamn…cute.
Zoey starts to giggle, a high-pitched sound. “That’s a terrible password! You want to pick something that nobody can easily guess. How about Tiana?”
“Okay.” Morris tries punching that into his phone but then stops. “How are we spelling that? Two n’s or just one?”
Zoey spells it out letter for letter and watches as Morris dutifully punches in the keys on his phone.
“Nope.” He shrugs at her. “No can do Tiana. It’s telling me here I need numbers and something. Look at this.”
My heart nearly shatters as I watch this enormous, tattooed biker try to reset his password on his phone with my daughter’s help. He hands her his phone, and I shake my head, wondering if Morris even knows that Tiana is a Disney princess. I’m starting to suspect that even if he does know, he doesn’t much care.
“We did it!” Zoey squeals, interrupting my thoughts.
Morris looks as pleased as she does, his bright eyes twinkling as he adjusts the sound down on the set, which had come to life at what seemed like full volume. “Well done, kiddo!” He holds his hand up to high-five Zoey, and to my absolute shock, she smashes her hand against his.
She plops down on the couch like she owns the place, all the ladylike skirt-smoothing and formalities of before gone. “Are you gonna watch with me?” she asks politely. “You can pick now that we have the TV on.”
Morris laughs so loudly and so sincerely, I feel another ounce of tension evaporate from my shoulders.
“You pick, princess. This is all you.” Morris covers half of his mouth with his hand and stage-whispers, “But I might need you to write down those instructions for me later.”
Zoey giggles and tucks her feet under her. She points the remote at the TV, and before I even say a word, she calls out, “Don’t worry, Mommy. I’m creating a kids channel right now.”
I nod at her. “Good job, honey.”
Morris looks confused.
“Some of the trailers and even the preview thumbnails can be pretty scary for kids. Most sites allow you to create a kids channel with your service. So kids can browse the choices without seeing anything too adult.”
“Huh? No shit?” Morris says, looking pleasantly surprised. “I mean, no… Ah, forget it.” He scrubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Old dog here. It’s gonna be a while before I can learn some new tricks.”
I study his face for clues. Just a few minutes ago, I’d thought I was about to see the mask peel away. The gremlin, the monster, the demon behind the dimpled smile and salt-and-pepper beard baring his teeth. But Morris is looking at me sweetly, studying me as I study him.
I notice him looking at my phone.
“Speaking of adult time,” he says, his voice low, a hint of flirtation in his tone.
Morris’s voice is so…sexy. It’s like friction and movement and light bouncing between his lips. I can imagine what it would feel like to lie against his chest and hear that gritty rasp against my ears.
“Alice?” he says softly, and it’s as if he can read my thoughts. He moves closer to me, but not close enough to touch me. Just close enough that if I wanted to, I could lean forward. Rest my head against that chest again, close my eyes, and let everything I’m running from fade away for a few minutes. Escape. Peace. Release. Just thinking about him like this has my nipples tightening beneath my tank top, my core sparking to life.
My face heats, and I feel like an asshole.
I can’t think of this man like he’s…a man. I can’t let myself be distracted by dimples and smiles or the sensual way the graying stubble trails down his neck.
I have a husband to leave and a daughter to provide for. And those two things are all there’s room for. Nothing else. No one else. I have to stop the damsel-in-distress act. I’m not a Disney princess. There is no such thing as Prince Charming.
Morris rode into my life on a motorcycle, not a white horse. And as soon as we figure out our next move, this chapter will end, and I’ll be on to a totally different story. One that leaves this sweet, sexy biker in the rearview mirror.