Page 35 of Shattered Dreams

“What?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest as I stand next to him. Paul lets out a low sigh.

“You can’t pay for everything all the time, Dre.”

“Says who?” I ask.

Paul sighs, meeting my gaze, giving me the middle finger as he brings his mug to his lips with his other hand.

“I’m just saying…”

“Stop worrying about what I’m doing with my money, Paul. You have enough shit going on. Just worry about that.”

He narrows his gaze at me, but it isn’t angry. It’s sarcastic, maybe even a little humorous.

And oddly attractive.

“But it’s so much easier to complain about you spending money on me,” he pouts.

“You want me to get you a therapist?”“Oh, fuck you,” he says, throwing his muffin wrapper at me.

I laugh, snatching it from the air and tossing it into the trash.

Chapter Fourteen

Paul

I can’t remember the last time I went grocery shopping with another person. Probably before I got divorced. Since Amelia and I keep a pretty regular schedule, and it feels weird when I’m not with my kid, I usually do things like grocery shopping, appointments, or the gym when Amelia has Maddox, so I can take my time. Stretch out the hours with things to do so I don’t feel so lonely and bored.

But going to the grocery store with Dre is a whole other experience, and I can’t say I hate it.

Though, if he thinks he’s getting away with paying for all of this, he’s got another thing coming.

I know what he’s doing, and while I appreciate him helping me out, I can’t not pull my own weight. I have a little money in my savings, not much, but enough that I should be able to get by until the money from the insurance company comes in. Not to mention, in just a few weeks, football camp will be starting up, and before I know it, it’ll be time for the first day of school.

I watch as he continuously picks up watermelon after watermelon, inspecting each one like it’s his damn job, and I can’t help but let out a chuckle when he puts back the third one he’s picked up.

“What’s the matter, Goldilocks? Can’t find one that’s just right?”

Dre glares at me. “Haha. Very funny.” He flips me off and I reach around him to grab a melon, flipping it up and checking the bottom. I knock it, listening to the deep thunk, and chuck the thing into our cart.

“There, problem solved,” I say as I head over towards the registers.

“How do you—”

“Just trust me,” I say, finding a line that’s short enough I know we’ll be next, which is what I need for my plan to work. I clear my throat.

“Oh shit, we forgot the Uncrustables,” I say. “The Nutella ones. Maddox loves those.”

Dre takes my bait: hook, line, and sinker.

“I’ll run and grab them,” he says, already turning around and sprinting away.

That’s when I shift out of the line and head over to the self-checkout, where I scan everything as quickly as I can like it’s a damn contest and the prize is a thousand dollar check.

Thankfully, the freezers are on the other side of the store, so it will take him a minute to get there and back, which is what I’m counting on.

I’m just swiping my card when I hear him, huffing and puffing, and I fight to keep my smile to myself.

“What are you doing?” he asks, cheeks red as he clutches two boxes of Nutella-filled Uncrustables under his arms. His glare should put me off, but it only makes me want to laugh, because as smart as he is, sometimes he’s so fucking gullible.