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“What’s up, buddy?”
“If I put four quarters in the jar, can I say three more bad words?”
Who could say no to a request like that? A responsible adult, that’s who. “We both know your mom would kill me.”
“My friend Billy says that girlfriends always forgive boyfriends. If you were Mom’s boyfriend then she would only be mad at you for a little while, ’cause she has to forgive you.”
Maybe it was simply a strategic move, or maybe it was a genuine question. Either way, the end result was that the kid wiped the floor with me.
“Yes! I won! I won!” And his victory came with a wild-armed dance. He stopped and turned to look at me. “Do you have a girlfriend, Ryan?”
“Nope. Do you?”
Titus frowned and shook his head so fast his blond hair smacked his forehead. “Ew, no. The only girls I like are Mom and Aunt Megan. And Rosie, but she always brings cookies.”
“It always starts with cookies,” I told him, laughing at his horrified expression.
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
I shrugged at the irony that even a five-year-old was questioning my love life, or lack thereof. “Just haven’t found the right girl yet.”
His blond brows crinkled as he took in my words. “How do you know if it’s the right girl?”
“Cookies?”
Titus rolled his eyes. “Ryan.”
“I don’t know, kid. You find a girl you think is pretty and spend time with her, see if she’s right for you. Take her out and get to know her.”
“You and Mom go out all the time. You laugh together. Why isn’t she the right girl?”
She was. That wasn’t a burden I could put on Titus, but that was the truth. “Sometimes, the right girl is a girl you already know. Sometimes, she brings you cookies.”
His cheeks and ears turned a bright shade of pink and I laughed. “Ryan,” he whined just as the door opened and Persephone’s smiling face appeared. “Hey, Mom!”
“Hey, guys. I brought dinner.”
Titus turned to me, a knowing smile that was far too mature for him splashed across his baby face. “Cookies or pizza?”
Persephone blinked. “Pizza with salad and wings,” she clarified, a frown on her face. “Cheesecake, not cookies.”
Titus shrugged. “I love pizza.”
“Don’t we all? Did you have fun with Ryan?”
“Yep. Always.” The little boy grabbed the box of wings to help his mother, another sign of the man he would someday become. “How was your day, Mom?”
“Good, I guess. Busy.” She set the boxes down on the butcher block table in the center of the kitchen and raced upstairs to change, the way she always did.
“What kind of pizza do we have tonight?”
Titus looked up with a smile. “Meat and veggie lovers. Your favorite.”
He was right, it was my favorite, and that only made it even clearer that Persephone was the woman for me. And when she came back into the kitchen, looking sexy and natural in a pair of pink yoga pants and a loose T-shirt that was so old and thin, I could see the outline of her bra and her nipples peeking through both pieces of fabric, that only confirmed it.
“Ready to get our grub on?”
“Always,” we answered at the same time.
Persephone’s violet eyes rolled skyward. “Sometimes, I think you two are twins.”
“I’m not old,” Titus insisted.
“Or mature,” I shot back and stuck out my tongue.
“Yeah, ’cause that means old.”
We shared another laugh, and for a moment, I thought Persephone might be right. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t give me a chance because I acted like her five-year-old kid.
Dinner started as it always did when we ate together, which we did most nights: quietly, as we all focused on the food in front of us. When Titus tried to skip the salad, Persephone added some to his plate. And then mine.
“Vegetables make you big and strong,” she told her son. “And healthy.” She aimed her violet gaze my way.
I sighed and pushed my plate toward her, frustrated that she couldn’t see how good we could be together. We were already a family, of sorts. Unorthodox, sure, but we loved each other like family, supported each other like family, laughed together and made fun of each other, too. Just like family. Except the two grown-ups didn’t share a bed. We didn’t live together, didn’t kiss except for the odd peck on the cheek, but I didn’t want to be relegated to just a one-night stand, dammit. I’m not. The voice came right on the heels of that last thought. I’m not a one-night stand. Not yet.
Oliver had gotten in my head because he was right. I needed to make my move or move on from this woman.
“Something on your mind, Ry?” Her steady gaze studied me, tried to figure out what was on my mind, and honestly? I wished she could. It would make things a hell of a lot easier.
