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He stands and takes Jax from my arms. “Call the girl.”
I watch as he disappears back into the house, then pull out my cell phone. A quick google search of her phone numbercomes back with the name Everly Sinclair.Sinclair... That name...
Why does that name sound familiar?
An hour later, I feel like I’ve gotten a master’s degree in social-media stalking.
Everly Sinclair—social-media darling and aspiring fashion designer, according to the Kroydon Kronicles. Professional cheerleader for the Philadelphia Kings. Currently working for her aunt, Carys Sinclair, at a boutique in Kroydon Hills. She’s young.Twenty-three. Eight years younger than me.
Eight years.
Damn . . .
Her twenties haven’t even kicked her ass yet at twenty-three.
No wonder she’s having so much fun.
I flip my phone over in my hand, debating my next move when Kerrigan and my mom come outside with a cherry pie in their hands. “Look what we made for you, Daddy.”
I scoop my baby up in my arms and break off a piece of sugar-coated crust before my mom smacks my hand. “This is delicious.”
Cherries always are.
Kerrigan smooshes my cheeks with her hands. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Daddy.”
“Come on, baby. Let’s go split a piece of pie.” Kerrigan squeals when we stop and kiss Grandma. And that sound... that sound makes me happier than anything else ever will.
I stuff my phone in my back pocket and force myself totryto forget about Everly Sinclair... At least for now.
Cross
Everly Sinclair is a pretty name, but I still think Cinderella fits you better.
Cinderella
Took you long enough.
Cross
It’s barely been a week.
Cinderella
I didn’t have you pegged as slow, Cross.
Cross
Some things are better slow, Cinderella.
Cinderella
Agree to disagree.
Cross
Maybe I’ll have to show you just how fun slow can be.
Okay, so maybe this flirting thing is like riding a bike. Muscle memory.
