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This isn’t a date.
So why did it feel like a date?
We were in a Mexican restaurant in North Bend, La Cantina, just Nico and me. I’d agonised all day over whether to leave Matty behind, but the babysitter Nico arranged had set my mind at ease. Meli Snyder was one of Colt’s neighbours, or at least, she had been until he built a huge new house with Brie. I hadn’t been there yet, but Colt said they’d have a housewarming party as soon as they got furniture. Anyhow, Meli used to care for Kiki while Colt was at work, and he trusted her completely, plus she’d worked for Nico for over a year, one of five or six certified babysitters who offered their services on an ad hoc basis. The Peninsula catered mainly to adults—couples, corporate clients, and groups—so there wasn’t a dedicated kids’ club. For extra insurance, Nico had asked Emmy to run a background check, and she’d concurred with Colt. Meli was a safe person to leave my son with.
Just for one evening a week, just a few hours. I still felt guilty for going out and enjoying myself, but for so long, I’d existed only as a mother and an accessory. Now I was a woman too. A friend. A part of the community.
A friend.
Sometimes, the way Nico looked at me felt anything but platonic. Did he feel it too? The spark? That day in New York, I’d tried to deny it, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. But I had to stay strong. Without Nico, I’d be up shit creek again, so if he said we were friends, then that’s all we were.
Perhaps the rush I felt was just a natural reaction to the many years I’d spent starved of affection? A rebound? Until Charlotte met Jenson, she’d pinballed from man to man, rebounds of rebounds of rebounds. Yes, that must be it. These feelings were perfectly normal. All I had to do was resist them until they went away. But damn, Nico was handsome when he smiled.
“Do I have something on my face?” he asked.
And I was staring. Crap.
“Sorry, I was miles away. What’s good here?”
“Everything, but you won’t beat the tacos.”
“Okay, great! I’ll have those.”
“What do you want to drink? A margarita?”
“Sure, why not?”
“He’ll be okay, I promise,” Nico said, and thankfully he interpreted the mixed-up mess in my head as mom nerves. “Meli won’t mind if you call for an update.”
“Maybe I could text her?”
“That’s a good compromise.”
A perky waitress sashayed over as I typed out a message. I couldn’t honestly blame her for fawning over Nico, even if it made me want to poke her eyes out.
“What can I get you folks?” she asked. “We have a Wednesday special—free nachos with a pitcher of margaritas.”
“Sure, we can start with that, and then we’ll have two orders of the beef tacos,” Nico said.
A pitcher of margaritas? Thank goodness neither one of us was driving.
“Could we get a bowl of churros too?”
“Sure, ma’am.”
Nico didn’t watch her ass as she walked away, which was a refreshing change from what I was used to. Cesare had suffered from wandering eyes, probably wandering hands and a wandering cock too. At first, it had bothered me, but later, I’d learned to be grateful because if he was screwing some other poor fool, then at least he wasn’t screwing me. I closed my eyes, thinking once more about the consequences, namely adding “get checked for STDs” to my to-do list. I hadn’t had any symptoms, but…
“You okay, zolottse?”
“Just thinking about the future.”
“And?”
“I need to do things right this time. When I was younger, I had so many plans. I wanted to be rich and famous. I wanted to see the world. But now I’m thinking that the simple life might not be so bad after all. That it might be better to put down roots and have one place to call home.”
“Do you have anywhere in mind?”
“Maybe Oregon? Everyone in Baldwin’s Shore has been so kind, although I’m not going to lie—the shooting the other night shook me up.”
