Page 119 of Anything But Lonely

Maybe he doesn’t want me there?

Maybe he’s setting a boundary when it comes to Crew?

I can’t blame him.

I’m not Crew’s mom—he already has one. A great one.

And I’m not his nanny anymore.

I’m not his anything.

And that thought shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

Mia looks like she just realized she said something wrong, but before she can take it back or apologize, I shake my head, pasting a smile on my face. “He probably just forgot to mention it.”

The door to Hey Honey’s chimes, and the retired rockstar waltzes right in, two other volunteer firefighters he’s training with follow a few steps behind him. Mateo’s grin is bright as he looks at me, and stupid butterflies instantly take flight in my stomach. His gaze turns to Mia, and even though I can’t see the face she’s making, I know it can’t be good by the way Mateo’s smile slightly drops.

“You have some explaining to do,” Mia reprimands the second Mateo approaches us at the other end of the counter, and I have to roll my lips together at the tone she takes with him. It’s even funnier knowing that she’s not just the younger sibling, but Mateo raised her. The fact that she has her arms crossed, brows furrowed, and a scolding on the tip of her tongue has me pressing a hand to my mouth to hide my amusement.

“Hey, baby,” Mateo says, ignoring Mia and leaning over the counter to kiss me. He’s dressed in black cargo pants and a Northshore Fire Department T-shirt. His facial hair is freshly shaven, aside from the hair above his lips, since firefighters can’t have beards—and I can’t say I’m complaining about it with the way he pulls a mustache off.

“Hi, rockstar,” I greet him, leaning in to meet his kiss. The instant our lips touch, it’s like all the worries from before fade away. I don’t care that it’s been days since I’ve seen him and Crew; I don’t care that he didn’t ask me to go to Crew’s orientation; I don’t care that I think I might love this man yet can’t say the words out loud.

I don’t care about any of it.

And then we pull away, Mia dramatically clears her throat, and Mateo groans, looking over at her. “What?”

Out of the corner of my eye, the two other volunteer firefighters Mateo came in with are at the register. “I should go take their or⁠—”

“Why did you tell Talia that your girlfriend was going to Crew’s Kindergarten orientation when you haven’t even asked her?”

I immediately see the blush creep up his neck.

Girlfriend.

It isn’t until right now that I realize we never had the conversation—the what are we conversation that usually ends with labels. Like boyfriend and girlfriend.

Is that what we are?

I haven’t been referring to Mateo as my partner, even in my head, since we got together two weeks ago. Mostly because the labels felt so… Trivial. Small. Inconsequential to who Mateo is to me.

“I didn’t say—” Mateo’s eyes go to me and then back to Mia.

“I’m going to get back to work,” I say, raising my hands and removing myself from the sibling quarrel I know all too well.

“How did you even know I told Talia that Emerson was coming with us?” Mateo whisper-yells at Mia, and I barely hear Mia’s response as I walk away. I think I hear something about how Talia called her last night, so excited that Crew didn’t have just one set of parents but two, but there’s no way I heard her right.

I shake the thought away, tapping the iPad as I ask the two firefighters, “Hey, guys. How are you?”

“Good, thanks. You?” one of them says at the same time the other one asks, “You Mateo’s girl?”

I look up to find two guys about my age, maybe a few years further into their thirties, and I already know Mateo’s patience is being tested on the daily if he’s spending most of his time with guys up to ten years younger than him.

The one who replied to my greeting reminds me a lot of Anderson. Where Anderson has thick brown waves that always seem a little windblown, this guy’s hair is cropped short and much darker, neat without looking stiff. His blue eyes shine against his tan skin, and his shoulders stretch the fabric of his Northshore Fire Department crewneck, broad and solid in a way that feels reassuring rather than intimidating.

The sympathetic look he gives me makes it seem like he’s already preparing to apologize for the guy standing next to him.

My attention shifts to the man who thought asking if I belonged to Mateo was an acceptable first impression. “I have a name.”