“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “I plan on letting you take it off me later.”
“Can’t fucking wait,” he says, sounding like he means it. “How’s the party? Having a good time?”
“Yeah, it’s been fun, but I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”
“I’m ready,” he says. “Want to hit that cocktail bar I was telling you about? It’s maybe a ten-or fifteen-minute walk. We wouldn’t have to call a cab.”
“Sure, sounds good,” I say, even though I’d rather head home and straight to bed. But we should probably try the “dating” part of dating, not just the getting naked part.
Deep down, however, I’m a little afraid the dating part will make this feel more real. Maybe even real enough to shock me out of my sex-induced stupor and remind me how far out of bounds I am right now.
Dean pulls back, gazing down at me with a more serious expression. “We don’t have to go to a bar, if you don’t want. We could go for dessert or something.”
I nod, assuring him, “Whatever’s fine. I’m not picky, I’m just…”Just still not stepmother material. Still not sure what I’m doing. Still afraid I’m breaking the rules in a dumb way, not a fun way.Aloud, I add, “Just a little tired. It’s been a big day.”
His eyes narrow. “Really?”
“Really,” I lie.
“Anyone ever tell you that your nostrils flare when you’re fibbing?”
My lips twitch as the irony of the observation hits full force. “Yeah, they have. My stepmother, actually. Couldn’t get a thing past old Rhonda.”
His brows lift. “Ah, I see. Your tone makes me think that wasn’t a good thing.”
“Nope.”
“And is that maybe at least a part of why you don’t want to date a guy with kids?” he asks gently as he holds up a hand, fingers and thumb held at an inch distance. “An itty-bitty part?”
“Could be,” I confess.
Whelp. Looks like—ready or not—the universe has decided we’re going to have this conversation.
I move out of his arms, wandering over to the railing, grateful for the chill in the air. Talking about Rhonda always gets me hot in a way that’s not nearly as fun as getting worked up with Dean.
“Rhonda and I didnotget along,” I say. “Like, at all. By kindergarten, I was doing okay living with my dad, but when Rhonda moved in, I started missing my mother like crazy again. It was really bad.” I exhale a soft laugh. “Which is ironic, considering the reason my dad married her was to give me a ‘mother figure.’ He told me later that he never wanted a live-in relationship with her or anyone else. He loves his privacy too much.”
“You think he was just scared to be a single dad?” Dean asks.
“Maybe, but I also think he regretted marrying her pretty quickly. While they were together, he played gigs with his cover band almost every night. As soon as they divorced, he went right back to being a homebody.” I glance Dean’s way as he leans against the railing beside me. “But for three whole years, Rhonda and I spent way too much time alone together for either of our tastes, and she made sure I knew how unhappy she wasabout it. How unhappy she was withme, the stepdaughter she never wanted, but couldn’t afford to send to boarding school.”
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I shrug. “It’s fine.” I shake my head before stretching my increasingly tight neck to one side. “I mean, no, it’s not fine. And it’s definitely part of the reason I’m hesitant to think about something long-term with a man who has children. I never want to make a kid feel as uncomfortable in their own home as I did.Idon’t want to feel that way, either. Home should be a place where you feel peaceful and accepted, not…on your guard. You know?”
His brow furrows as he nods. “I get it. A safe place where you can relax and be yourself is really important for kids. And grown-ups.”
“It is.” I nod for a beat, searching his face as I debate the wisdom of what I’m about to say. But finally, I can’t hold it back. “I never imagined I could feel at home that way with someone else’s children. But then I met Ava and Bella, and…”
His expression softens, hope and affection mixing in his gaze. “And you realized that they’re the most adorable, perfect, funny, fantastic kids on the planet, and you fell head over heels for them, and want to be best friends with them forever.”
I laugh, shocked to find tears suddenly stinging the backs of my eyes. “Yeah, pretty much.” I nod, fighting to swallow as I swipe at the corners of my eyeliner. “Shit, you’re going to make me cry.”
He gathers me back into his arms. “Don’t cry. You can be best friends with them forever, no matter what. I promise. No matter what happens with us, I will always facilitate your relationship with the girls. As much or as little as you want and are able to see them. And I’ll make sure they know how lucky they are to have the love of an incredible woman like you.”
My throat spasms, locking up completely for a moment as fighting a case of the sobs becomes my full-time job.
But I refuse to leave this party with eyeliner all over my face.
