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“Are you Mommy’s boyfriend?”
I hold my breath as I wait for an answer. Just because I recently realized I love the man doesn’t mean he has feelings for me.
“I’m Mommy’s boyfriend,” Fender says and relief washes through me.
“Does she know you’re her boyfriend?” Isla asks.
“Nope.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Nope.”
“Can I tell her?”
He ruffles her hair. “Sure.”
She jumps off the couch. “Let’s go make pancakes.”
I scramble to my feet. I back up a bit before ambling forward as if I’m just now walking to the living room and wasn’t eavesdropping the entire time.
“You didn’t have breakfast at Storm’s house?” Fender asks as he stands. He notices me and winks before following my daughter to the kitchen.
“Storm’s mom made us pancakes with spinach.” Isla feigns retching.
“Spinach is healthy,” I say.
“Mom!” Isla leaps into my arms.
I hug her up tight. It isn’t often my eleven-year-old offers me a hug without having an ulterior motive.
“Did you have a good time?” I ask once I’ve forced myself to let her go.
“It was fun. We played flashlight tag. Do you know what flashlight tag is?” I nod. “We should play it when it’s dark tonight.”
“Maybe,” I hedge since it doesn’t get dark until it’s nearly her bedtime and a round of tag will have her too wound up to sleep.
“Maybe means no. I’ll ask Fender.”
Fender chuckles. “You can ask me, but my answer will always be the same as your mom’s.”
“Is this because your mom’s boyfriend now?”
I freeze. What do I do? I can’t admit to eavesdropping on their conversation. Isla would never let me forget about the time I eavesdropped on her.
“Nope,” Fender says. “Your mom knows what’s best for you.”
I raise an eyebrow. Is he not going to respond to the boyfriend comment?
“But you are her boyfriend, right?” Isla pushes.
Fender grins and those damn dimples pop out. “You know it, cutie pie.”
“Guess what, Mom? Fender is your boyfriend.”
I cross my arms over my chest and pretend to be irritated. “He is, is he?”
“Yep. He said so.”
