“Your plan sucks.”
What sucked was that everyone kept changingtheirplans. He had a life plan too, which was continuously getting jacked up by everyone else in his life. But this was the most important plan and he needed it to work. Needed Maddie to stay close to home, because when Amanda became tired of playing Mom of the Year, and she would, Maddie’s heart would be shattered and Colin wouldn’t be nearby to put it back together again.
“It was your plan,” he reminded her. “You came home from cheer camp and told me you wanted to go to UCLA, so we both made plans around your moving to Los Angeles.”
“Well, I want different things now.”
“Your different things aren’t covered in your college fund. UCLA is in-state.” Five hours away. Far enough for independence but close enough to come home on the weekends—or if she got homesick. New York had no homesick emergency button. “NYU is not only private, it’s triple the cost.”
“Hudson is loaded—did you know that?” Yes, he did. Amanda made a point of bragging about her husband’s worth on every call. “Mom said he’d cover half.”
Colin would believe it when the bank transfer came through. But even if Amanda did cover half, neither Maddie’s college fund nor his retirement plan included an expensive private university in Manhattan.
“Your mom and I will talk about it.”
“Too late,” Maddie spat. “I’ve already declined all the California schools. NYU is our only option. Unless I take a gap year.”
“Not happening and this decision required a conversation between you and me. I’ll cover the cost I promised, but anything after that is up to you.”
“Why does everything revolve around your stupid plans?” Maddie screamed, then ran into the house crying as if her world had truly ended. He heard her march up the steps, down the hall, and slam the bedroom door.
Colin pinched the spot between his eyes, which did nothing to ward off his impending headache, then pulled out his phone. “You slam it one more time and you lose it.”
He calmly disconnected. The door opened and slammed once again with enough pent-up teenage drama to rattle the foundation. The focused anger was like a gunshot right through his chest.
Chapter 12
Being a single parent is like being tossed into
an MMA match with a toy lightsaber.
—Marina Adair
Teagan hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She was unloading groceries when she overheard arguing. She should have gone inside and minded her own business, but curiosity won out. Watching the calm, cool-as-a-cucumber, in-control Colin sweat was worth the melting chocolate-chocolate-chunk ice cream in her truck.
She’d stopped at the bottom of her driveway, out of sight, so she didn’t get a good look at the prosecution or the defendant, but she could hear every word. Mostly because Maddison was shouting at a level that reminded her of Garbage Disposal’s squeaky toys.
Teagan couldn’t help herself, nor could she look away. Partly because she wanted to make mental notes for when one—or both—of the girls hit puberty and aliens overtook their bodies, but mostly because she wanted to watch Colin in dad mode. Which was incredibly hot.
She was about to leave when he exited the house holding a pink bedroom door.
The sexy neighbor and arbitrator was dressed in street clothes today. Flip-flops, cargo shorts with a million-and-one different pockets, holding a million-and-one different secrets, and just tight enough in the rear to showcase a butt for the ages. Up top he had on a light green T-shirt advertising theFURGET ME NOT ANIMAL FOUNDATION, which clung to his biceps and that jaw-dropping chest that had been made for cuddling.
Naked cuddling.
But right now he didn’t look as if he were thinking about cuddling, his posture was more frustrated man, brought on, no doubt, by a pissy teen. But it was the tired expression beneath it all that tugged at her strings. Colin had sounded casual, but his stance told a different story. Maddison’s words had cut deep.
She turned to make a stealth escape but the Colin-induced emotions she still hadn’t admitted to prompted her to step out from her hidey-hole and onto his driveway.
Colin stopped dead in his tracks—was he blushing?—and expelled a breath. He leaned the door against a sidewall in the garage, then grabbed two beers by the necks from an ice cooler. Based on the empty bottles on top, she assumed the door debate had been the most recent in a long line of disappointments that day.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked.
“Long enough to hear how you were ruining her life.”
He shrugged as he walked toward her. “I do it daily.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop.”
