The Trap & Trapped in Trapped Expanded Edition
My life has turned out to be such a cliché. And not in a good way.
It’s not exactly Sixteen and Pregnant, but at eighteen my only advantage is a high school diploma. And if that’s not enough, the father—and I use that term loosely—couldn’t have hightailed it out of my life fast enough.
I thought I really knew him. Unfortunately, my boyfriend of three years transformed from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde once he realized his carefree, childless days would be coming to an end.
I’m over him now though. The real love of my life is chubby, has more gum than teeth, and stands a little over two feet tall. She may not have been planned, but I’ve never regretted having her. She is the center of my world.
A world that’s turned upside down when my ex returns ready to earn the love and trust of the child he abandoned before birth.
Letting him into my daughter’s life is one thing but letting him back into mine isn’t going to happen. Because the biggest mistake of my life has a name, and that name is Mitchell Aaron Kingsley.
And he’s one mistake I don’t ever intend to make again.
Bree and I hug and kiss as if we haven’t seen each other in days instead of hours. I breathe in the scent of baby powder and savor the feel of her against me. This is the best part of my day.
When I finally raise my gaze to Mitch, he’s watching us with an arrested look on his face.
“She looks so much like you,” he says softly.
He’s not telling me anything I haven’t heard dozens of time, but coming from him it’s more than just an observation. My face warms as I fight the seductive pull of pleasure that unfurls in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m her mom,” I say, feigning a nonchalance I’m not even close to feeling. I’m uncomfortable with the intimacy that seems to have surrounded us with the quiet stealth of creeping fog.
Intimacy and Mitch is a lethal combination. And not good for me at all.
“A good mom,” he states, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
Okay, we’re heading into dangerous territory now. It’s high time I take control of this conversation and let him know what’s what. They’ll be none of this—him looking at me as if he wants to do more than co-parent with me. The kind of more that doesn’t include a stitch of clothing but includes lots of flesh-on-flesh contact.
Oh no, they’ll definitely not be any of that.