My eyes fall shut as I attempt to smother a heavy exhale. They open just in time to dodge a kid on a skateboard whose hair is hanging so low in his face I'm not sure he saw me coming either. "But that's my car, Trev. And now I need it."
"Shit, okay. Well, how was I supposed to know that? I didn't do it on purpose, Tess."
My eyes roll so far into the back of my head that I think I see my ponytail. "I realize that, Trevor. But I just got a call for an interview, and now I'm carless. Can you just ask next time?"
The line goes quiet until he clears his throat. "Yeah, sorry. My bad. Do you want me to bring it back? I was just about to take lunch anyway, and uh, I can have it home in a couple minutes. Or you can take mine and stop on the way to fill it up."
"No," I sigh. I tell myself that there's no way he could have known that Brooke would have gotten the days wrong. Sure, he probably shouldn't think of, oh, I don't know, only himself. But he didn't mean it maliciously. "It's fine," I shrug off. "I don't really have a couple minutes, honestly—let alone time to hit a gas station. Just keep it."
"Are you sure?"
I roll my shoulders back and look down at my feet, thanking myself from five minutes ago for choosing casual tennis shoes to pair with my outfit. "Yep," I say in the most convincing voice I can muster. "All good. I'll figure it out."Like I always do."Don't worry about me."
I stop running, only slightly schvitzing thanks to the cool spring breeze. Dropping my hands to my knees, I take deep breaths in, exhaling slowly so that Liam can't hear my heartbeat from the other side of the door.
Catching the taxi was the easy part. Running here from outside the development was a different story. There was no way I was showing up for an interview for a nanny gig in public transportation, even if this is the city. Nothing says I'm ill-prepared to care for your almost-preteen daughter like needing someone else to drive me around. Hell, that's probably half of the job.
I just didn't realize Liam would live tucked away in such a residential area. I guess I assumed he owned a high-rise or something fancy like Drew did before he and Brooke bought their brownstone. But it makes sense with having a family and all.
Luckily, the neighborhood is still close to downtown. If I somehow manage to pull this off and actually have my car, it shouldn't take me long at all to get to work. And it will give his daughter and me plenty of things to do around here. But for now, I'm just happy it was close enough that I'm somehow only eleven minutes late.
Once I properly catch my breath, and the beads of sweat on my brow dry thoroughly, I check my reflection in the screen of my phone and head toward the steps. Raising my fist, I prepare to rake my knuckles against the green front door, but before they make contact, it opens slightly. A deep, somewhat familiar voice booms through the crack.
There's that déjà vu again.
"Yeah, I'm coming now. I'm done early. Brooke's friend didn't…" The words fade as the gap widens, and a man's head swings in my direction. "Show," he finishes weakly.
We drink each other in as the pieces seem to slowly connect for both of us. My eyes trail down his tall frame, starting at the top of his full head of hair and traveling to the same neon green swoosh on his sneakers frombefore. Just when I'm thinking it can't be possible—that my eyes and my currently chaotic mind are playing tricks on me—the same golden dog I shared an ice cream with just weeks ago comes barreling through the door.
I stumble backward as two hairy paws hit my chest and the same tongue that slurped up Trevor's ice cream licks across my face. I can't help but laugh, despite the situation, as the man who's been known as the Running Dad in my unanticipated dreams ends his call in the background. This isn't déjà vu—this is him.
"Hey, never mind. I'll just meet you there at takeoff, okay? Thanks."
His arm falls slowly from his ear as Sammy—I think—finally lands back on all fours. "Hi," I say, peering up at him, still bending down to pet the dog.
"Hi?" he whispers.
The dog barks, and Running Dad-Liam clears his throat before reaching for his collar and pulling him back inside. "That's enough, Sammy," he says, his voice sterner than it was back then. He traps him behind the door as he pulls it shut enough that Sammy can't escape again and turns back to me. "What are you—wait..." He blows a breath through his lips and rests his hand on his hip, his face suddenly tinted with annoyance. "Are you Brooke's friend?"
I resist the urge to say,That's currently questionable.
"Yep," I answer instead. I clear my throat. "Yes, I'm Tess."
He stares at me, the green in his eyes mirroring my own, and I'm reminded of how obviously handsome he is. The night we first met, I remember noticing the way his hair—which I see now is longer on the top than it is on the sides—flipped out from underneath his hat. And I'm not sure I'd ever forget how his damp t-shirt clung to his chest. The man is a legend on the field now that I'm putting two and two together, but he's also a complete work of art out of uniform.
Objectively speaking.
"You're late," he says simply.
I brush off the pang of guilt I'm hit with for noticing him. "I know, I—"
"Listen, Tess…" My stomach drops, and I tell myself it's only because I was hoping for the job. "The shit I've dealt with the last few weeks…" He shakes his head, his gaze falling to the ground.
I consider giving up—thanking him for his time and maybe asking for one more puppy kiss to help cure my mood—but I don't. "Two minutes," I jump in. His eyes fly back to mine, sadder than I remember them being during our previous, brief interaction. "Just give me two minutes, then finish that thought."
4
Liam
