He nods. Drinks his beer. Watches the game for a minute. “You’re allowed to want things for yourself, you know. Being a good dad doesn’t mean you stop being a person.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Because from where I’m sitting, you wake up, you train, you go home, you take care of the kids, you go to bed, and you do it again. Every day. And now you’ve got this woman in your house who clearly matters to you, and you’re sitting here telling me everything is fine in a voice that sounds like you’re reading a police report.”
I don’t say anything. On the TV, someone strikes out, and the bar groans.
Ollie lets the silence sit for a while. Then he finishes his beer and signals for the check.
“I’m not trying to push,” he says. “I just think you deserve more than fine. That’s all.”
“Noted.”
“And for what it’s worth? If the Instagram photo is any indication, she’s—”
“Ollie.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Goodnight.”
“She’s very attractive and you clearly—”
“Check, please.” I lift one hand toward the bartender.
He laughs.
It’s annoying though. Sydney has only been here for two days and the people around me are doing what they always do. Assume just because she’s a woman and I’m a man that we can’t possibly bejust friends.
We settle up. He claps me on the shoulder on the way out and says, “Get some sleep, Arch. You look like hell.”
He’s gone before I can respond.
I sit in my car in the parking lot for a minute before I start the engine. The bar is dark behind me, the street is quiet, and I’m gripping the steering wheel with both hands, thinking about how she looked stretching in the doorframe.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. Sydney’s never been anything but just a friend, and now I can’t watch her stretch without needing to leave the room. I have no idea what to make of that.
I drive home. The house is dark. The twins are asleep. I can see the light under the guest room door, which means she’s still up, probably reading, probably in those sleep shorts, probably—
I go straight to my room. Close the door. Get into bed… and think about things I have no business thinking about.
Her leg on the doorframe. Her body folded in half. The paper airplane on her thigh that I’ve pretended for years I don’t think about.
I think about it.
I press my face into the pillow and try to sleep.
Chapter Five
Drop It Like It’s Hot
Sydney
It starts with Lily finding my speaker.
I’m in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch, and she appears in the doorway holding my Bluetooth speaker above her head like a trophy. “What’s THIS?”
“That’s mine. Where did you find it?”
