But as such, and for other reasons, he probably couldn’t talk to eight-year-olds about that.

“Pepper, you’re touching me,” Auggie stated unhappily.

At these words, I shot back a step, letting him go, but I did this still staring at him.

Now in horror.

Oh God, how had I forgotten?

The last time I’d spent any real time with him was when we’d had sex in my foyer.

And although it had been amazing, after it was over, I’d freaked way the heck out and then kicked him out.

He did not want to be kicked out.

He wanted to explore what we both had been sensing, but what had become clear against the wall of my entryway was happening for us.

But I wouldn’t hear of it.

Juno had to survive her father’s revolving door of babes. She wasn’t going to have to do that with her mother.

I’d made a pact with myself.

No men in Juno’s life until she was mature enough to sort through that emotionally.

I had decided this would be when she was around fourteen or fifteen, though I’d consider it at thirteen, but also possibly push it back to sixteen if she was having a difficult adolescence.

I knew this was going to be a very long row to hoe for me (case in point, standing right there with all the perfection that was Auggie Hero and not being able to make him mine).

But there were sacrifices you made as a mother that were necessary to make.

This was one of them.

I had told not one single soul about this pact I’d made with myself.

None of my friends were moms, they wouldn’t get it.

Added to that, none of my friends had started a family with the love of their lives, or even had just settled in with the love of their life, sleeping beside him for years, only to learn he’d been cheating on them the whole time they were together.

Yep.

The whole time.

They didn’t get what it felt like to have your heart broken, your trust decimated, all your dreams for your future shattered and have to watch your daughter experience the same thing.

They didn’t get that.

I went through that.

But more importantly, Juno went through it.

Top all of it with the shit my dad, mom and sister pulled on a regular basis and okay, sure. Maybe I was overprotective. Maybe this pact was over the top.

Maybe.

But as a single mother, I didn’t have the luxury of dealing in maybes.

I needed to do what I needed to do to keep my baby safe and healthy, physically and emotionally.

And I was going to do it.

“I’m taking it Juno didn’t tell you she asked me to be here,” he remarked, breaking into my explanatory (justifying?) thoughts.

“No,” I mumbled.