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He doesn’t have to. He won’t commit to a relationship with me for the same reason he hasn’t seriously dated since my sister.

Ella. Everything will come after her. He’s too afraid of being wrong, of making a mistake, of not having her as his top priority, and God forbid anything impede that. Even his own happiness.

My stomach clenches. “I know.”

It would be better if I didn’t understand, but I do.

Slowly, I pull out and clean up, though I’ll probably owe an apology to our friends for trashing their room. There’s only so much I can do with the box of tissues on the bedside table.

Then I get my clothes on, wanting to smack my face a little for what I’ve admitted to him.

I’m pulling my shirt over my head when something hits the floor. A crystal paperweight-looking thing that was sitting on the dresser. I’ll admit I hold my breath as it rolls across the floor.

We look at each other. There’s no explanation, unless it was close to the edge and maybe I bumped the dresser without realizing. That’s probably all it is, but I see the nerves on Dean’s face.

For the sake of my dignity, I force myself to pretend otherwise. Then I leave, because I need a minute to myself.

When Dean rejoins the party a few minutes later, I make sure to be nowhere near him. In fact, when our friends Fallon and PJ announce they’re leaving a minute later, I mention Dean seemed tired. He and Ella hitch a ride with them.

I stick around long enough to pretend I don’t feel their absence.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Dean

If I thought going to parent-teacher meetings made me feel like I was in trouble, sitting in front of a board who decides if Ella gets to go to this snobby school is so much worse. The way my legs are jammed under a too-low table and my tie feels like it’s getting tighter isn’t helping.

Only a few years before I became a dad, I was the kid called into the principal’s or the counselor’s office regularly. Being asked about my attendance, about my grades, meanwhile I was lying to their faces so I wouldn’t be taken away from the shitty trailer where I lived with my dad.

Not because being with my dad was so great, but it was the home I knew. I’d talked to a kid who had horror stories about the foster care system. The devil I knew was plenty bad. Stories of neglect and abuse and foster parents literally locking up the food convinced me the devil I didn’t know was worse.

“Try to sit still.” Mike puts his hand on my upper thigh, stilling the rapid pulse I hadn’t even realized I was doing.

“I’m nervous,” I admit. “I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t get in. What if something else goes wrong at her current school? What if someone tries to take her away?”

My hurried whispers come out sounding painful. My body’s so busy trying to panic I can hardly push them out.

A few months ago, I probably wouldn’t have said that out loud. Giving someone I need who hates me access to my innermost fears? Not something I’d have done willingly.

Now? My bigger issue is the heat of his hand too close to my dick. I cannot afford to get turned on here.

I’m grateful, at least, that things with Mike seem different lately. He’s been a little cagey since the party at the B&B, but at least it seems like we’re on the same page. I’m hesitant to get too optimistic…but he’s the only one who has any idea what this is like for me.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen either, but we can’t go worst-case scenario right away. They’re not here to judge you.” His hand presses more firmly into my leg.

Three people I haven’t met before are filing in, all well dressed in suits. Two older men and one older woman, all of whom probably grew up in a zip code I can never afford. Mike says they’re not here to judge, but I can’t help thinking that’s exactly what they’re going to do.

They’re the sort of people who tell me they think it’s so admirable and brave that I’m raising my daughter on my own, while secretly judging me for exactly that.

Mike’s perfectly trimmed beard brushes my cheek, and I try hard to lean into him. “Let’s try something. Let’s assume, in the absence of any evidence to the contrary, that everyone in here has Ella’s best interests at heart. Let’s assume that if Ella coming to school here is the best thing for her, then that’s exactly what will happen. Okay?”

How does he do that? Sit here in front of all these people and not worry that they’re judging him, too?

“It is the best thing.” I don’t realize I’ve got his hand in a death grip until he wiggles his fingers to make me loosen up.

“Take a deep breath, Dean. In and out.”

I take a breath like he tells me to. My mumbled “thanks” is so quiet I don’t expect him to hear me, but the way he puts his other hand on mine and squeezes tells me he did. I’m too grateful to care about the looks we’re getting from the one guy.