Page 37 of Verdict

Harper gently placed Ellie on her tummy and observed. Ellie lifted her head slightly and then lay it back down on the table. "It's still early; every baby develops a little differently. The fact that she’s attempting is good, but keep doing tummy time. She should be able to steadily lift her head in the next month or so. If she doesn't, then let us know."

"We can do that," Cohen said matter-of-factly.

"How's she eating and sleeping?"

I jumped in, suddenly feeling like a terrible mother who had something to prove. "She eats great, and we've been working on sleep training, so right now she does about eight to ten hours a night."

Harper smiled, "That's great, I love to hear it. Any other questions?"

Cohen shook his head. "Nope, I'm good." He looked over at me.

I shook my head. "I'll call you if I do."

"Perfect. Well, you can get little Miss Ellie dressed, and you’re good to go. It was great seeing you, Ava, and nice to meet you, Cohen."

As Cohen started getting Ellie dressed, I just stared at him—shocked. And, if I were being honest, a little impressed.

His eyes flicked up to me, and he flashed a smile. "What?"

"Way to make me look bad, CoJo," I teased as we settled into a booth at Bluebonnet Cafe—a little breakfast and lunch spot in Primrose Hill.

Cohen dropped his head back on a laugh. "I wasn't trying to. I had questions!” He parked Ellie's stroller at the end of our table. She was already sound asleep.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Well, next time let's discuss our questions prior to the appointment so I don't look like such an incompetent mother."

"Please. You're the best mom, Trouble," he said simply, his eyes scanning the menu, completely unaware of what his words just meant to me.

Before I could reply, our waiter appeared beside our table, and Cohen ordered for both of us, as if it were something he normally did.

It wasn’t.

He brought his attention back to me. "How did you know I wanted the potato soup and a side salad?" I cocked my head in question.

"Because you love potato soup and you always add a salad to make yourself feel better by eating vegetables," he smirked.

Totally going to ignore the butterflies that just took flight.

Cohen started fiddling with his napkin. "Did you want to head right back? I thought maybe we could swing by Walk's and show Ellie the horses."

I grinned. "I love that idea. Plus, I haven't seen Hadley in a minute."

"Cool. I'll shoot him a text."

Between him ordering for me and handling plans, I felt a bit out of sorts. I wasn't used to being taken care of. Having someone anticipate my needs. Cohen may have thought what he was doing was minuscule and unimportant.

But it was everything.

Once we got our food, we ate in a comfortable silence while Ellie snoozed away. It was the most content I had felt in a long time. Being with Cohen was easy, effortless, but I had to keep reminding myself that our dynamic would always remain like this—friends, co-parents. It was what I told myself was best for Ellie.

I broke the silence first. "You played great in Chicago. You’re insanely fast, definitely faster than your rookie year,” I teased before continuing. “It’s incredible to watch. I don't get how you can anticipate where the ball’s going to go before the batter even hits it."

A cocky grin tugged at his lips; his eyes locked on mine. “Because I’m good at reading people. Most players don’t realize what they’re giving away.”

I leaned back. “Is that so? Can you read me?”

“Enough to know you don’t give much away.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be predictable,” I countered.