I notice the laundry basket of clothes in the living room first. As I get farther inside, I see the vacuum in the hallway, the dishes in the sink, and the pizza boxes by the trash. It’s not a mess by any means—it just feels like there are a lot of unfinished tasks.
“I, uh,” Simon moves to the living room to grab the basket. “We don’t have guests over much unless it’s Calla or Beck or the guys.”
“It’s fine.”
“Fine,” he says slowly. “Everything is fine to you.”
I shrug. “I don’t know what else to say.”
He studies me for a moment.
“What do you need a distraction from?”
“Got the ball!” Grey comes sprinting down the stairs, jumping over the last two. “Let’s go.”
Hands up, I say to Simon, “Duty calls.” I follow Grey out the back door before his dad can ask me any more questions.
What do I need a distraction from?
Easy. From thinking about how I’m in my early thirties and every day that passes, I grow closer to ending up alone. To never finding love like my mom had for my dad. For never getting to pass silly memories down to my kids. To not having a family at Christmas or Thanksgiving or… the list goes on.
I need a distraction from thinking about how I may never find someone to share and make a life with.
Ending up alone is very much in the cards for me, and the idea breaks my heart.
CHAPTER FOUR
SIMON
Don’t you dare look out the window again.
I click the volume button on my phone twice. If the music is loud enough, maybe I won’t be able to hear myself think about Greer being outside with my kid.
Does it bother me that I’m in here writing while she’s out there playing catch? Of fucking course it does. I should be out there. I should be the one he’s happily running down the stairs to see, the one who lights up his face after saying yes to him.
Me.
Not anyone else.
My fingers sprint over the keyboard. I need at least another thousand words for today, and then I can call it for the day and send Greer home. Being in Greer’s house to let the yard guy in did its job. I didn’t snoop, but I did take my time, letting some of my original ideas come back to me before I locked up. It’s helped more than she will ever know.
If I weren’t so disciplined, I’d skip out right now. But I have commitments, and sticking to the things you say you’ll do is something I’ve been trying to drill in Grey’s head. Bailing isn’t the example I want to set.
I’m writing a single dad romance; adding in how messy the house gets seems to fit in well right now. Grey isn’t wrong on that either. I’ve been so busy between his summer sports, The Space downtown, and the multiple deals I have going on in my book world, I’ve let a few things slack off. And I feel guilty because I’m not planning enough time in my day for Grey.
I lean back, my gaze drifting to the window outside. Grey is smiling and running in front of Greer, the ball tucked into his side.
She’s hot on his heels, laughing.
Barefoot too. Why can’t I let that small detail go?
I don’t ever remember football being funny, but whatever game they’re playing, I like the way it looks on Grey.
Calla and my mom are the two women he’s used to being around. So I’m not too sure how I feel about Greer spending time with him.
Hell, I’m not so sure how I feel being around her myself.
Every part of me seems to come to a full alert stance. I’m aware of how close she’s standing to me, how she smells like vanilla mixed with lavender, no matter if she’s fresh from the shower or if she’s just finished a workout, how she always smiles and has a solution to whatever topic is at hand. It’s hard not to notice Greer when she’s in the same room as you.
