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"Because . . . " She popped more nuts into her mouth and chewed. "Reese said so. Mason told her you needed a new shirt because your baby had thrown up on the other one."
With a nod, I shifted a step back, reminding myself why I needed to keep my distance from her. Julian needed me. And to keep Julian in my life, I needed to keep Tristy in it. And I couldn't exactly be a good, faithful husband to Tristy if I was here drooling over Eva, the one woman who could make me do anything.
I blew out a breath, not caring for that little reality check.
"Want to see a picture?" I asked, forcing a smile and thinking that seeing a picture of Julian might help cement my faithfulness into my own head.
"Of your baby?" Her face brightened. "Sure."
I pulled out my phone and typed in my password to get into my apps.
Leaning in to watch, Eva gasped and covered her mouth as she zipped her eyes up to mine.
"What?" I asked, dropping the phone to my side. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
When I reache
d for her stomach, worried about the baby, she shook her head and slapped my hand away, but continued to stare at me as if I'd lost my mind. Then she motioned toward my phone. "I just . . . you . . . your passcode. One-one-two-zero."
I nodded and shrugged as if it were no big deal. "Yeah. What about it?" But my eyes were intent on her as I held my breath, anxiously waiting to learn why that number was important to her. Because it was sure as hell important to me.
"Nothing," she tried to say, but I knew—
"Oh, no." I rolled out my hand, coaxing her to keep talking. "It's definitely something. Now spill it."
Her face flushed as she motioned to the phone. "It's a date, right? November twentieth?"
My stomach clenched as I nodded. But, shit, if the same thing had happened to her on the same day that it happened to me, I was going to freak.
"Is it your birthday?" she hedged. When I shook my head, she guessed, "Your baby's birthday? Your wife's."
I laughed. "No. It's no one's birthday. It's just . . . a special date."
The day I'd met her, had sex with her, fallen in love with her, and pretty much became utterly and completely obsessed with her . . . or rather, the day I'd had my glimpses and learned she existed.
"Your wedding day?" she started in with more guesses, not letting up.
Since there was no way I was going to tell her why November twentieth was special to me, I asked, "Why do you care? What's that date mean to you?"
She hesitated before meeting my gaze. "It's my birthday."
I gulped. Shit.
What were the odds I'd be shown a vision of her ten years ago on her birthday?
A strange cold prickle rose up the back of my neck. Fucking voodoo shit. This was beginning to creep me out. When I shifted away from her, her eyes widened.
"What? What's it mean to you?" she asked.
"Not telling," I said and quickly re-entered the passcode because my phone's screen had gone dead again. She huffed in irritation, but I distracted her as quickly as I could by pulling up Fighter's mug shot and spinning my phone around for her to see him.
And, yep. Just like that, her mind was jerked elsewhere. Oh, the power of an adorable kid.
"What a little cutie," she cooed. "What's her name?"
My chest swelled out with pride—my boy certainly was a little cutie—right before I scowled. "His name is Julian."
She blinked, and then pointed at the picture. "But he's wearing pink. Why do you have a pink onesie on a boy?"
