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Skylar’s hands come to rest at her hips as she scowls. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I wince. “I’m. . . look. . . I just mean you’re pretty, okay. I think you’re pretty. Don’t go getting offended. I came out here for air, and my head was all messed up from being in my house. I’m not thinking straight.”
“You think I’m pretty?” she asks, and she deflates and flashes me a megawatt smile that hits me hard.
“Yes.” I nod.
She stares into my eyes, and I stare into hers, and there is a spark there I can’t describe, but I want to feel it over and over again.
CHAPTERTHREE
Skylar
“Crew, you need to eat fast,” I prod as my son mushes his scrambled eggs with his hands instead of putting them in his mouth.
I slather some cream cheese on a slice of bread and pass it to him.
“I’m not hungry,” he whines.
He isn’t the best eater, but if he doesn’t eat breakfast, then he complains he’s hungry when I drop him off at kindergarten, and at that point, there’s no time for him to eat and for me to get to work on time.
“I can’t be late for work,” I remind my son. His response is to sit at the table with his arms crossed in front of his chest while wearing a cute scowl. The day shift is so much better for me because I hate to ask Patty to watch him at night when I’m working. She doesn’t care and is the best friend a girl can ask for, but I don’t like imposing.
“Morning,” Patty says, trudging into our little kitchen with her blond hair askew.
“Good morning,” I reply.
“Good morning.” Crew smiles at Patty. He adores her like he would a doting aunt.
She walks over to him. “Cutie, you need to eat so you’ll grow big and strong,” she says. He smiles at her and then she picks up a piece of scrambled egg and shoves it in his mouth. He chews it and swallows.
“You’re a big boy. You need to eat by yourself,” I remind my five-year-old son. “Patty can’t feed you.”
“What time do you have to be at work?” Patty asks as she pours herself a cup of coffee from the brewed pot.
“In forty minutes,” I reply in a high-pitched tone. I’m sitting on eggshells waiting to get Crew dressed and out of the house. Forty minutes may seem like a long time, but when you have a five-year-old son who doesn’t like to eat or get dressed by himself, it can take a lot longer.
“Yikes,” she replies as she pours milk in her coffee.
“Yikes is right,” I confirm.
I met Patty when I was at Brown. I just had a terrible encounter with Carter and was a bit of a mess. Patty came up to me. She was a complete stranger but she offered me a tea and a listening ear. , We’ve been best friends ever since. I completed my sophomore year and dropped out when Crew was born. By that point, Patty was done with her degree and moving to Brooklyn. She got accepted to the Doctor of Physical Therapy program at NYU and had a two-bedroom apartment. She was kind enough to invite Crew and me to live with her. Even though sometimes I think Patty took the two bedroom with me in mind from the start because she’s so kind. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for her to have us living here. There have been times I’m sure she’s regretted her decision to move us in because the first few months Crew didn’t sleep. She hasn’t kicked us out yet, and for that I’m grateful. I knew she didn’t need the rent money, even though I insisted I pay half the rent.
I look at my watch as my leg bounces. “Being stressed out all the time isn’t good for you,” Patty says for the umpteenth time.
“I can’t just feed him his food. He’ll never learn. In the meantime, I need to be at the diner by nine,” I reply.
“I’m done.” He walks away from the table.
Sending him to full-day kindergarten on an empty stomach will make me feel guilty, and I have enough mom guilt as it is. Crew may have been a surprise, but he’s brought brightness and love to my life and although my plans got side railed by the pregnancy, I would never want to change anything about my life. Well, maybe there is one thing I would change. . .
I’d throw a hot pot of coffee on Liam Bozeman’s head the next time I saw him. I can’t believe he was at Bill’s Diner of all places with all those guys. They must have been hockey players too. I don’t follow hockey so I wouldn’t know. Crew’s dad plays in the NHL, but he wanted nothing to do with me or Crew from the moment I told him I was pregnant. I hope he’s constipated and suffering somewhere.
“You seem more on edge than usual,” Patty observes as she brings her mug of coffee to her lips. She watches me like she’s evaluating me under a magnifying glass.
“Gah, I saw my ex from high school last night at Bill’s. I haven’t seen him since senior year,” I explain.
“Ex from high school.” Patty taps her chin. “Wait, is this that Liam guy?”
