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Sighing, I close the notebook and put it back as a knock sounds and the front door handle jiggles before opening. One of my eyebrows arches at the stove clock before I stand. Can’t a man have any peace around here? And at freaking seven a.m. The kid is supposed to be gone for a few more hours and I’d really like to catch a few minutes of the college football game before I spend my Saturday doing work.
Fuck it, the quiet is often too loud for me, anyway.
Theo rounds the corner from the foyer and hightails it to his room with a cursory wave and a squeaky “Hey, Dad” before Scarlett trails inside the house after him.
“Sorry for being so early. He’s excited about his win. He couldn’t sleep, so I just fed him breakfast and figured we’d come ov—” Her words cut off as her gaze rakes down my chest to my boxers. Halting in place, her owlish blue eyes blink slowly and her throat bobs before her face turns a cute shade of pink.
Is she blushing over me?
“Shit, sorry. Didn’t expect you guys til later and was about to jump in the shower. Let me ask you somethin’ though. Do you think I have a dad bod?” I pull at some skin, wrestling with the fact I’m getting older and things don’t spring back the way they used to. “Should I get a dad bod? I hear it’s a thing.”
Scarlett squints and appears to inspect me a little closer. Embarrassed by her scrutiny, I back it up toward my room. “Don’t answer that. I’ll go put something on.”
My mouth twitches at a corner before I jog to my room and shut the door. Sliding off my boxers, I tug on a pair of sweats, forgoing a top because I don’t want to stink up a perfectly good shirt. I do, however, swipe on some deodorant.
Scarlett’s on her phone and places it in her back pocket once I join her. She glances over, staring at my chest for a beat longer, before striding to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s flustered. Over me. Practically naked. Hmm. Maybe she’s okay with a dad bod.
I force any excitement over this discovery deep down and settle once again on the bar stool and lean over the table on my elbows. “How excited are you today? On a scale of mildly titillated to pissing your pants, which is it?”
Her hip rests on the edge of the counter and she eyes me over the rim of her glass. Since we’re going out on a job site, she’s dressed casually instead of her usual nine-to-five business attire. Looking closer, I realize she’s sporting one of my old work T-shirts tied at the corner and a pair of low-slung denim shorts, allowing a tiny sliver of her tanned stomach from the summer sun to peep through.
When did she swipe one of my shirts and why does she have to look so … delicious in it? Especially when I’m supposed to be doing everything I can to move on from her. Except speed-dating. I refuse to sit down with total strangers and expect to find a love connection. I’d rather speak to a deceased Miss Cleo and learn my future was written on the fortune cookie I threw away without reading.
“Oh, you have no idea. This place you guys secured for me is perfect. I can’t wait to see it being built.” Her eyes light up and she clutches the glass with both her hands.
“I’m glad P could sway crabby Mr. Miller to sell some of his land to us for it.”
“Did he have to sell any of his precious suits to convince him?” She wiggles her blond eyebrows at me, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“If that was the case, you wouldn’t be getting your therapy building. He doesn’t even wear them much anymore, but he’s still attached to them.” Shaking my head, I lean back in my chair and enjoy her company, even if it’s still too early in the morning for conversation. But she belongs here, in my space, my kitchen… my bed.
Shit.Okay, maybe I do need to do some speed-dating,find some woman willing to deal with my bullshit and put me out of my misery over my unrequited—for very solid reasons—feelings for my baby momma. Damnit, Savy, you’re gonna get your way on this thing.
“Are you okay?” Scarlett’s hand on my bare shoulder jolts me from my headspace, and I quickly stand.
“Yeah, I’m good, just lost in thought about today. Uh, I’m gonna get ready. You can hang out here if you want or …”
Eyebrows furrowing, she replies, “I’m going to run some errands first, if that’s okay. Meet you guys there at two?”
“Sure thing,” I wrestle the words from my mouth after she brushes a kiss across my cheek. Gliding away, she raps on Theo’s door and tells him bye before waltzing out the front door.
We’ve done this a million times. It’s not out of the ordinary for her to kiss my cheek or squeeze my shoulder. We’ve been friends—best friends—for years, raising our son together, making this co-parenting gig work despite how our story began. But lately my mind runs away with grander ideas, impossible notions. Late nights talking side by side in bed, cooking breakfast together, holding hands while Theo putters around us like teens do,sulking about not enough screen time or the exorbitant amount of homework his teacher assigns. Every day ordinary things families—whole families—experience.
Sighing, I hang my head before heading toward the shower. Not only will Scarlett never know the true depths of my feelings, but I don’t see my brother being okay with it, either.
Time to embrace an eternity of single dadhood.
