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Xavier’s face flushed the color of the flowers in Sofia’s little hands, and he looked like he wanted to jump into his fancy black car and drive all the way back to England. I closed my eyes, willing the question away. So much for an easy meeting. This. Was. Mortifying.
“Er—” Xavier mumbled, pulling Sofia’s attention back his way. “I think your mummy can do better than me.”
“I don’t know…” Sofia was saying. “You’re pretty handsome.”
I looked down just in time to see the left side of Xavier’s mouth curl upward. He peeked up at me and allowed his gaze to drag down the rest of my body—my sweatshirt-clad, paint-stained, frump-fest of a body—before returning to Sofia.
“You’re very kind,” he told her. “Now, I have a secret. I’ve never been to this park your mum told me about. And I was wondering if you might show me the best places to play.”
He stood back up, and Sofia looked him over doubtfully.
“You’re kind of big for the park,” she told him.
“I am,” he confirmed. “But I’d love to see it anyway. I want to see how it’s different from the parks in England. Would you show me?”
There was a long pause. Then Sofia nodded. “Sure. The best is the swings. You can push me if you want.”
* * *
“Mama, what’s for dinner?”
Thirty minutes at the park turned into ninety, which turned into an invitation to dinner on Sofia’s part, which brought me back to my house sometime past five, trying to decide what the hell I was going to prepare for a world-famous chef with my own meager cooking skills.
So far, Xavier had been the perfect gentleman. A little awkward at first, maybe, with a tendency to drop the F-word when he made a mistake. But as long as he was willing to follow her around and “talk like a pwince,” Sofia happily allowed him to push her on the swings and merry-go-round for as long as they both wanted.
Now, as I watched him remove his coat in our foyer and allow her to take his hand and guide him down the hall to the living room for a quick tour of the house, I wasn’t sure how much of this I could take. I had expected that it would be difficult to see him try to melt Sofia’s heart, and maybe his own. I hadn’t expected the process to melt mine too.
“I’ll think about it upstairs,” I said. “You good with her? I just need to change.”
Xavier gave a brief nod, too busy listening to Sofia introduce him to her set of My Little Ponies to care about me.
I took the opportunity to race up to my little portion of the second floor and furiously yank through my clothes. The jeans could stay. They were old, but still made my ass look good. The Care Bears had to go, though.
Ten minutes later, I was flying back down the stairs wearing a cropped red sweater, my hair down, my favorite silver hoops dangling from my ears, and a swipe of red lipstick for good luck. What can I say? Single moms learn to work fast.
Xavier and Sofia were on their way up to her room for part two of the tour. Xavier looked up and stilled when he caught me coming down, then paused when our shoulders touched.
Sofia slithered out behind me, babbling about needing to set up her costumes or something. I honestly didn’t know. Xavier’s eyes had pinned me in place.
“I remember this shirt,” he murmured, touching the red knit material lightly with one finger. “You wore it the day we met.”
“D-did I?”
Oh lord, he was right. For a moment, I could see us both at that bar, a place in Morningside Heights where my grad school friends and I liked to pretend we went to Columbia. I’d ordered a cheap beer, which the bartender gave me before informing me that it had been paid for by the guy at the other end of the bar.
I’d turned, and there was Xavier, looking every inch the rogue in distressed jeans, combat boots, and a black T-shirt that showed every outline of his chest and the tattoos that slithered over his left arm and licked his neck.
He’d approached with a single boring line that came to life with the spark in his deep blue eyes: “I like your shirt.”
It had taken exactly ten seconds for me to like his too. Twenty more for us to make it to the dance floor. Another hour after that, he kissed me for the first time, and I didn’t leave his arms for a month.
Now he wore a suit and polished shoes, though he looked no less the rogue. But it was very clear he still liked my shirt.
I looked down at the sweater, then back at him. His blue eyes darkened as he took in the cropped hemline, revealing just a sliver of the stomach I had fought long and hard to get back after Sofia was born.
In direct response, my nipples tingled. I knew if he looked at them, he would see them clearly through the thin fabric. Remembering his deft touch. Dying for it, in fact.
“Xavi! Are you coming?”
Xavier jerked, then turned. “Er, on my way.” He cleared his throat and disappeared up the stairs without a second look toward me.
I remained where I was, taking a few more minutes to catch my breath after having it stolen by the intensity of his gaze.
