Page 108 of Scouting the Single Dad

I slump back against the tub. “I hate how reasonable that sounds.”

Faith smirks. “This is real life. You had your fun, and now you’re done playing house. Trust me when I say this man is not sitting around staring at his phone with sad violin music playing in the background. He has all kinds of shit to do.”

Ouch.

Give it to me straight.

I let out an embarrassed laugh because the truth is, it would be great if Hayes was sitting at home staring at his phone, getting ready to call me so I didn’t have to make the first move. “You’re right. I know you are, but five hours feels long when you’re waiting.”

“Then don’t wait,” she says, leaning forward. “Text him first. Stop acting like this is a game and you have to wait three days. You like him, right?”

“Obviously.” I just said as much.

“Don’t be a chickenshit about it.”

I Am Not Being a Chickenshit.

I nibble my bottom lip. “I’ll do it later when I’m alone.”

I love Faith, but the last thing I want is an audience, especially one with strong opinions, whose favorite thing to do is meddle in my business.

Faith narrows her eyes. “Later is code for never, and you know it.”

“It’s not!” I protest, swirling the wine in my glass. “I just need space. Not commentary. No side-eye while I craft the most humiliating sentence of my life.”

Her laugh is quick and sharp. “Layla, I promise you—if you text Hey, I miss your face, he’s not going to think you’re a thirsty bitch. He’s going to grin like an idiot.”

Doubtful. “I don’t want to come off as needy.”

“I really think you’ll regret it if you don’t message him.” She leans back, her curls damp, her expression softening. “Send the text, Layla. Worst-case scenario, he doesn’t respond the way you hope. Best case . . .” She gestures with her glass. “You get to keep the glow you had since you met him.”

Faith tops off my glass as steam curls around us, the jets humming, the surface of the water distorting our bodies below—and I’m exactly one more glass from taking her advice and actually sending that note to Hayes.

“I’ve had a glow?” I sink deeper until the hot water laps my collarbones. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”

Faith laughs. “Look at us—we’re a mess.”

I chuckle. “Speak for yourself.”

She grins. “A vibrator can only come in handy for so long, you know.”

“Facts,” I say, tipping my glass at her in a mock salute. “May your days be filled with orgasms and zero talk about sports.”

“Please. Caleb is a paramedic—he’s into all adrenaline-fueled activities. Oh! Maybe he can give me mouth to mouth,” she sighs, dreamy. “It’s the forearms for me.”

“Ugh, the forearms again.” My brain immediately pictures Hayes’s hand braced on the doorjamb of the guest bedroom, the way his veins roped around his wrist. Heat pricks my cheeks, and it’s not from the jets. “Okay, I’m convinced. I’ll text him later.”

Faith tilts her head and says to the sky, “You hear that? That was the sound of ‘never’ turning into ‘later’!”

“Let me be a coward for a minute longer, would you?” She is too much sometimes. “I need to do this at my own pace, you know this about me.”

“Yes, I know. That’s what I love about you—you do things on your terms, not because someone tells you to. But . . .” Her grin widens. “Sometimes you wait until the heat death of the universe before making a move, a.k.a.: Jared Catalano.”

She must be talking about the time in high school when I finally let Jared Catalano kiss me. After senior year, the summer before he left for college. Everyone thought we were already dating, but we were only hanging out, and yet somehow I could never bring myself to make a move. Not until the annual senior bonfire the last day of summer, but by then it was too late. I didn’t see him again until our five-year class reunion.

Faith brings it up whenever she wants to make a point.

Like now.