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I lean back against the counter. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I wrote him an apology letter and told him where I worked when I was still at Just Brew It. I wanted to buy him a coffee to apologize for how rude I acted. He came into the shop a few times, and someone who works there told him about my new job. He has a huge house, complete with only one print of a painting as decoration.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, her expression hurt.
Nolan runs into the room with a wood puzzle, plopping down by my feet and dumping the pieces on the floor.
I whisper my answer to Rue. “Because of this. I knew you’d assume things. And I’m proud of this new job. I didn’t want anyone raining on my parade.”
Her face softens for a brief moment before turning cross again. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“I can look out for myself.”
Our eyes stay locked together in silent challenge.
“Just answer one question, and then I’ll leave it alone,” she says.
I arch my brows and say, “What?”
“Has he expressed interest in you?”
Shit. Cue the deer-in-headlights expression all over my face right now. I could try my hand at political reasoning, and say it depends on the definition of the word “interest.” Rue would see right through me, though.
“So that’s a yes,” she says, looking smug.
“I can’t control him,” I say, shrugging. “Nothing has happened between us, and that’s the last I’m going to say about it.”
She groans. “Please be careful. You’re happy for the first—”
I put a palm up. “You said one question, and you’d leave it alone.”
“I said if you answered the question, I’d leave it alone, and technically, you didn’t answer.”
I roll my eyes and turn back to the pancake mix. “Don’t you have to get ready for work?”
“I’m not going in until ten today. I’m going to the gym.”
“Well, have a good workout.” I wave at her, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave.
“I want my pancake first.”
“I want pancakes too, Anwoo!” Nolan says from the floor.
“Should we have strawberries on them?” she asks him.
He nods, grinning happily. An instant later, his grin turns into an “O” as he grabs the front of his Pull-Up.
“Mommy, I go pee.”
“Oh!” I set the whisk down. “Let’s go to your potty!”
Saved by the potty-training toddler.
“I’ll finish up the pancakes,” Rue says as Nolan and I race out of the room.
As soon as we make it to the bathroom, Nolan pushes his Pull-Up down to his ankles and sits down on his plastic potty.
“Did you go yet?” I ask him.
He looks thoughtful, which usually means he’s trying to go. I look down and realize that if he goes right now, I’m going to get sprayed in the face.
“Whoa, Nolan, don’t forget to tuck it in!” I remind him frantically, putting my hand out as a shield.
He tucks it in, just in time for droplets to sound on the bottom of the potty. I breathe a sigh of relief. Getting my face peed on would not be a good start to the day.
“Mommy, I pee!” Nolan cries, clapping.
I clap, too. “Great job, sweetie! You’re such a big boy!”
He gives me a proud grin and I feel a surge of love. Then he leans forward, puckered up and ready for a kiss, and I melt. I plant a kiss on his little lips, tears welling in my eyes.
Rue is right. I can’t let myself catch feelings for Pike. He and Nolan are two separate worlds in my life, and the two just don’t fit together. Pike doesn’t even know I have a child, though I know I should have told him by now.
It’s time. And once Pike knows about Nolan, he may lose interest quickly, which will mean I don’t need to toil over any of this anymore.
The problem—that I increasingly find myself wanting more than just friendship with Pike—may just take care of itself.
Chapter Eighteen
Pike
* * *
“You made it,” sports reporter Allie Lansing says, beaming as I approach the table she’s occupying at a coffee shop on the Strip.
“Hey, Allie.”
I smile and shake her hand before sitting down, because Allie is one of the few reporters I actually like. She has a reputation for being professional and knowing her sports. After working her way up, she’s now the top hockey reporter for The Sports Report, a national online sports news outlet. They’re growing fast, not just providing fans with sports articles, but more photo and video content than they can get anywhere else.
“I hope I don’t have a reputation for not showing up,” I say, her greeting not sitting well with me.
“Oh, not at all,” she says, waving a hand. “I meant because I hear there’s a stomach bug making the rounds with the team.”
“Oh.” I nod, feeling relieved. “Yeah, it’s a nasty one. I’ve been lucky to dodge it so far.”
