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“I know that. You don’t drink wine, then?”
“I do, just not as often as I used to. Bring yourself and that’s it. Forget the wine.”
Todd flashes his signature smile as he leans forward in his chair. The air between us becomes loaded with a kind of energy I’ve never felt before. “I’ll bet you’re a fun drunk. But fine, suit yourself, no wine,” he says.
I don’t think I’m a fun drunk, but I do know it wouldn’t take much for me to lose my inhibitions around this man. He is dangerously self-confident and seductive. He knows precisely what he is doing, and I’m pretty sure he feeds on the effect that he has on the people around him. It’s why I need to keep my cool and my face straight.
While I’m relieved that I’m no longer crushing on a married man, Todd is still my boss and he is still a million miles out of my league, either way. This is a business deal we’re engaging in. A transaction where I give him my presence and my time along with my son’s, and he gives me a ridiculous amount of money in return. It’s as simple as that. I have to keep it as simple as that, even though my heart is already galloping and making me briefly envision a dinner date with Todd where we have one glass of wine too much.
Clothes are flying.
Lips are meeting.
It’s only a distant dream. An outrageous idea. As I chug the rest of my latte and finish scarfing down the remainder of my crêpes, I tell myself that no matter what, I will never lose control over the situation. This is strictly professional. No hanky-panky.
CHAPTER10
BECKY
On the evening of our first playdate together, I realize that I’m as nervous as I would be if it were a real date. Butterflies are actively engaged in a rampage through my stomach, and the conflict is about to spill out into my rib cage, too. My heart is in a constant thud of anxiety and I’ve already switched out of three seemingly neutral outfits in which to greet Todd and welcome him into my home. A tight dress with a dark red blazer felt like too much. My forest-green training suit felt too casual. The short jeans dress and silk white shirt screamed romantic movie drive-in sequence, so now I’ve settled into a pair of loose-fitting slacks and a tight, black sweater, my hair pulled up into a bun and only a pair of gold-plated earrings to complement a minimal amount of makeup.
I haven’t put this much thought into an outfit since my first few dates with Luke. Elliot’s dad was a charmer by nature, and I had been automatically compelled to try harder in order to get his full attention and appreciation. I was so young and foolish back then—so why the hell am I so skittish now?!
“Mama, dinnertime?” Elliot asks from his living-room playpen, surrounded by plush dinosaur toys and colorful plastic trucks with gummy-rubber wheels.
“Are you hungry, little man?”
“Yeah!”
“Hold on to your diapers, buddy, ’cause we have company for dinner, but we’re eating soon, I promise,” I reply, smiling as I give myself one last check in the mirror.Why the hell am I so nervous? It’s strictly business.
I’m trying to make everything appear casual and effortless. Maybe I’m trying a little too hard. My two-bedroom apartment is neat and spacious, decorated in warm, earthy tones with mostly wooden furnishings and silicone childproofing almost everywhere. It’s not a bachelorette’s pad, since there are toys and children’s activity boards in every corner, photos of Elliot and me on almost every wall, and a plethora of child-safe dishes drying by the kitchen sink.
The place smells of vanilla candles and cinnamon apple sauce, my kiddo’s favorite treat. I’ve had to pop open a couple of mini jars to keep him up this late. We’re usually in bed by this hour, cracking open an adventure book to read from. It’s only six thirty, but I know… in fact, I’ve got a good feeling about tonight and about Elliot meeting Todd. Maybe that’s why I’m nervous. Maybe it’s because I know they’re going to hit it off—and then the whole charade will be over, and Elliot will want to see Todd again.
I’ve thought of this before; I’m well aware. And I doubt it’s really about Elliot wanting to see Todd again. It’s likely about his silly mother already wanting to see Todd again. “I’m a hot mess, honey bunny,” I say out loud, finding comfort in the fact that only I know what I’m talking about. “So, Elliot, tell me, how do I look?”
“Pretty!” he beams at me, his greenish eyes as big and sparkly as emerald saucers.
His hair is a fluffy brown mess, and I have thus far resisted the urge of having it cut too short. I love those face-framing curls of his so much, I practically melt whenever I look at him. There’s some of Luke in him, faint traces here and there, especially when he’s sad or grumpy, but I’m at peace noticing so much of myself looking back at me. I guess the feeling comes with the territory of a failed relationship and the resentment toward his deadbeat dad. I never want to experience that kind of disappointment and heartbreak again, which is why I’m so alarmed by the attraction that I’ve clearly been experiencing toward Todd Connors.
Of all the people in the world, and he’s the one I’m letting my heart run wild for. It’s insane.
“You think Momma’s pretty?” I reply, feeling a warm blush fill my cheeks. My son’s compliments have the highest value, even though I know I will always be beautiful in his baby eyes. Maybe it’s why they matter the most. “I’m glad to hear that, honey, even though it’s not going to help anybody.”
The doorbell rings. Instantly, Elliot sits up and starts waving his hands. “Door! Door!”
“That’s right, sugar tot, we have company!” I reply and walk over to the front door, my pulse galloping a thousand miles per hour. This is crazy; I need to get a grip.
One deep and full breath later, I open the door to find Todd standing on my welcome mat and holding a pretty-looking gift basket in one hand. He’s got jeans and a navy-blue sweater on, but even the most casual of outfits still makes him look like a page out of a J.Crew catalogue. “Good evening, Mr. Connors. I mean… Hi, Todd,” I giggle nervously as I step aside and let him in.
“Hello, Becky, and thank you for welcoming me into your home,” he says as he walks in.
The gift basket is a traditional wooden weave loaded with a selection of artisanal cheeses, chutneys, and rare honey, fresh fruits and several bottles of a rare but popular Midwestern ginger ale I happen to love. I’m stunned as I realize that it’s some of the foods I like the most. A French blue cheese and a pecorino that I told Vincent about, for sure. The fig confit is a staple food in my cupboard. The rosé grapes. The gouda flavored with herbs. The Sidamo coffee, native to Ethiopia and served at the very café where Todd and I arranged this first playdate. I did mention I loved their coffee. Holy smokes, this man did a hell of a lot of research to put this together.
“Um… thank you,” I manage as he hands the basket over.
“It’s the least I could do. It’s also a shame you didn’t want wine. I found a phenomenal chardonnay from Montalcino that you probably would’ve loved while I was shopping for that chunk of Roman pecorino. The shopkeeper said it’s perfect to cook carbonara,” he says, smiling broadly. I’m sensing pride in this statement. I suppose he wants me to notice the effort that has been put into this moment.
