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“Hi,” he murmured, sounding shy, and the way he looked, sitting there, all I wanted to do was kiss him again. I was so drawn to him it was ridiculous.
And fun.
So much fun.
ChapterEighteen
Noah
I’d decidedto make a classic crème brûlée for dessert that evening. The rich, creamy custard topped with a caramelized sugar crust always seemed to impress, and even though I’d made it hundreds of times, I was making it for Chris, and it had to be perfect. It wasn’t so difficult that I could fuck it up, but as I torched the sugar on top, my anticipation grew as to what he’d say. I lived for the reaction on someone’s face when they tasted my desserts, and it was even worse when I was trying to impress Chris.
I served the dessert, and as Chris took his first spoonful, I waited. My focus was on his mouth, watching as he tested the flavor, his tongue darting out to catch a stray bit of cream. What did he think? It was important that I’d gotten it right for him.
Then it hit me.
This wasn’t about dessert—I didn’t need to know what he thought of it because talking about food just took me away from what I really needed to do—talk to him and tell him about Briggs.
God knows why my head went there.
“I have to tell you something,” I blurted out, my voice cutting through the quiet of the room.
Chris glanced up, his expression changing from a smile to a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What’s up?” he asked.
“It’s about Fox’s dad,” I began. “I know you work with baseball at school—Fox told me—but I don’t know how much you know about professional baseball?”
A shadow passed over his eyes, but he blinked it away. “Some.”
“Promise me this goes no further until Fox lets people know, or until we can’t hide it anymore.”
“You’re worrying me,” he murmured, placing his spoon down next to his half eaten dessert.
“Fox’s biological dad, his papa, is Briggs Lewiston.”
He was waiting for more, and I let him think it through, and finally, recognition flickered in Chris’s eyes. “Lewiston? Do you mean Briggsmad-as-shitLewiston, played for the Columbus River Kings, right?” I nodded, but as I paused, I watched Chris’s expression shift from recognition of the name to the realization of what else he might know. “Wait—Briggs Lewiston? Wasn’t there a story about steroids and a gambling scandal,” he murmured. “And affairs? I recall lots of media coverage, it was all over the news a while back.” He bit his lip, and his eyes widened after he worked through what he knew. “His husband went to court and sued for custody of … shit, that was you? And Fox?”
I nodded again; the words catching in my throat. “The divorce is final, and there’s a restraining order in place so he doesn’t come near me or Fox, which is hard on Fox, but…” I swallowed and absently massaged my left wrist, which still ached after I’d pushed too hard in the kitchen. “Despite…everything… the judge gave Fox a choice, and Fox chose to come with me.” I huffed. “The media wouldn’t leave us alone, and when Lily passed and left me this place, my first thought was that we could get a breather here and wait until things died down.”
“Oh,” he said, then frowned. “And after your breather, is that you leaving town?”
What? Did he think we were passing through? “No, god no, this is our new life. I’m going to make this work.” Chris reached for my hand, gripped it tight. “But it’s complicated, and it’s messy, and Briggs can make anything into a drama. He somehow managed to wipe us out financially, including Fox’s college fund and all my savings, yet I still feel like the bad guy.”
“For wanting to be a good dad to Fox?”
“Yeah, or as he likes to say, for stealing Fox from him.” I lowered my voice. “Not that he cared about Fox unless he needed a photoshoot. Fox had appendicitis when he was twelve, and Briggs was in Vegas—this wasn’t ball season, this was his choice to stay away—and he only turned up at the hospital when Fox was being released. He wasn’t a father; when he married me, Fox was six, and in hindsight, he just wanted a glorified nanny that he could tie down.”
“Fox knows all of this.”
I nodded. “He worked it out.” I massaged my wrist again as Chris’s expression softened.
He reached across the table, placing his hand over mine. “I can only imagine how hard that must be for you and Fox.”
We sat there for a moment; the crème brûlée forgotten.
“I’m done with Briggs.” I reassured him. “He’s not even a shadow in my life anymore. I’m divorced, able to…”
“… date?” he offered with a smile.
“Yeah. Date.”
