“Do you talk about me?”
“Not really. It’s usually just funny memes and hockey. She’s been giving me tips for that knee issue I’ve been having.”
“Hm.”
Levi has never gone out of his way to connect with a woman that I’ve dated and surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me. That much.
“Just don’t be a dick to her. Tell her exactly how you feel and stop looking for signs that she’s going to leave you. Bri told me that she’s been working with Sawyer on her dives. You know what she told Sawyer she needs to work on?”
“What?”
“That she needs to trust the floor is going to be there when she dives. To stop looking down and just… trust that it’ll still be there. That’s what you need to do. Jump, and trust that Bri will still be there when you dive.”
“Damn. That’s kind of poetic.”
“She’s fucking awesome, dude. Don’t fuck it up.”
I laugh and smile. “I know she is.”
My phone buzzes in my palm with Bri’s name on the screen.
“Speaking of her,” I mutter. “She’s calling. Gotta go.”
“Love you, man,” Levi says, his voice softer this time.
For the first time I say it back without hesitation.
“Love you too. I’ll call soon.” And this time I intend to.
I swipe to answer, pulling the lasagna out of the oven with one hand, the other holding the phone to my ear.
“Hey, baby.”
I haven’t made this lasagna in years. Not since before my divorce. I used to make it all the time when it was just me, Sawyer, and my mom’s handwritten recipe propped up against the flour canister. But after everything fell apart, I stopped. Stopped cooking. Stopped trying. And I feel like shit knowing I’ve had this recipe memorized for years but haven’t made it for Sawyer in so damn long.
That changes tonight.
After tonight, I’m going to do better. I’ll cook for her again. I won’t rely only on Bri’s delicious meals to fill the gaps in our life. I’ll be the dad she needs, and I’ll jump, without checking to see if the floor’s still there when I dive.
“Hey,” Bri’s happy voice filters through the phone but there’s an edge to it.
“Uh-oh. What’s going on?”
She laughs. “So, I just got home, showered and shaved.”
“Hm…” I lean against the counter smiling. “I like where this is going. Keep talking.”
Her laughter bubbles through the line, and fuck, I decide at once—I want to make that sound my damn ringtone. Wake up to it every morning. How the hell could I ever have a bad day if I start it with her?
“And?” I prompt, my grin widening.
“And Natasha said Rhiannon is having one of her infamous game nights tonight.”
“What’s that got to do with us?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. The answer is my plans to have a quiet night in just went out the window.
Despite every fiber of my being screaming that I have zero interest in Rhiannon Carpenter’s chaotic game nights, I know that I’m about to say yes. Because if that’s where Bri’s going to be after I haven’t seen her for the last three nights, then I’m there. It could be a thousand-mile road trip, and I’d still be there in the car, letting her play her emo music and smiling while she sings along loudly.
"Do you want to go?" she asks softly. "I know we're keeping things quiet right now, but I can't tell Natasha no or she'll grill me on where I'm going instead. Which means I'll have to explain about our date night, which means people will know—" Her voice trails off.
