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“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said breezily. I started to rummage through my locker, pulling out my purse in preparation for going home.
“Every time the two of you interact, it’s like an electrical storm,” Maya said, and when I looked at her with a confused eyebrow raise, she clarified, “You know. Sparks flying.”
I laughed. “I’m not sure that’s how electricity works.”
“Oh, my God. Do you have to be so logical all the time? I’m just trying to gossip like a normal person.” Maya threw up her hands in distress. “Loosen up, lady! I’m a mom, too, but you don’t see me taking myself so seriously all the time. Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with it. We all know Nate is straight-up sexy.”
“Not exactly my type,” I said, which was half a lie. Since Ella was born, I hadn’t had time to have a type at all, but if I had one, Nate definitely fit the bill. When we first met back when I started working at Forge, he’d introduced himself in that suave way he had, and when he touched me—innocent, just a normal handshake that shouldn’t have had me turning instantly feral—my lady parts had come alive. It completely threw me off. No one had caught my eye since the infamous hookup that resulted in my baby girl. Considering the unplanned pregnancy of it all, I figured that was for the best.
At the time, I thought it was unfair that Nate could be so attractive and so impractical as a partner at the same time. Even beyond how out-of-my-league he was, he had a reputation for loving a casual hookup, and something about his tattooed bad boy image, to me, didn’t scream “future stepdad to a current five-year-old.” I had to think about Ella before everything. I didn’t resent her for it at all. It was my decision to have her, my decision to put her first, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But there were sacrifices involved, and I’d given up any chance at going for the sexy, less-than-kid-friendly, painfully impractical guy.
Logan seems very practical, a rude little voice at the back of my head piped in. Suddenly, I was overcome with mental images of his burly frame—some might even call it a dad bod, which was just perfect—carrying all of Ella’s science equipment to the car for a family trip, building a treehouse in the back yard, enveloping Ella and me both in a huge, comforting hug.
Too bad he was such a dick. And kind of my boss to boot. I didn’t even know if he was single, and it’d be good to keep it that way. No use wondering about something with no chance of anything coming to fruition.
Even if the authority in his voice earlier had made me a little weak in the knees. Not that I’d ever take a moment to examine what that meant.
“That man is everyone’s type, first of all,” Maya told me, following me out to the parking lot. The night was warm and just settling into darkness, and the still-straggling sunset reminded me again that I wasn’t through with this day. At least Mom’s cooking had always been stellar, so I had a yummy meal to look forward to. “Second, what even is your type? Someone who doesn’t actually exist and won’t threaten your comfy little routine?”
“Maya,” I half-sighed, my exhaustion from the day unfortunately creeping in to make my tone a little harsher than I intended. “I really appreciate your investment in my love life?—”
“Or lack thereof,” she snarked.
“But you know I’m just not really thinking about that right now. Ella’s my priority, and no amount of flirtation is going to change that. No matter how pretty Nate is.”
“So you admit he’s pretty!” Maya half-laughed, pointing an accusing finger at me.
“I have eyes.”
We’d reached our cars, parked right next to each other in the staff lot, and before I could make my escape, Maya stopped me again with a gentle hand on my arm.
“Listen, Carly. I really admire your commitment to your daughter. Hell, I have kids, too, you know. I get how scary it can be to let somebody into that little family bubble.”
It was true. Maya and her husband had met when her oldest son was still in diapers, but they’d managed to make dating work. Now, they’d been married for ten years and had two more beautiful children to show for it. I sensed a but coming, though, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.
“But you’ve gotta give it a shot sometime. You deserve love, and partnership, and to get out of your mom’s house.” She let out a single laugh, squeezed my arm, and let go. “Maybe Nate’s not your way to find all that, but I hope you’ll get back out there sometime. You’re still so young and hot. Gotta show these men what they’ve been missing.”
We parted ways on smiles, then, and I thought about Maya’s encouragement for my whole drive home. My favorite alternative radio station in the car didn’t drown out the swirling thoughts in my head—made-up images of Nate and Logan both as partners, as father figures for Ella.
The real world waited inside my mom’s house, though, so once I’d parked in the driveway and sat in the car alone just long enough to finish the song playing over the radio, I clicked the engine off and squared my shoulders. All I had to do was go inside and have dinner, and I gave myself that logical comfort as I walked to the door.
The inside of the house smelled like Mom’s pot roast, rich and salty and full of flavor that mingled with my lingering work-induced garlic cloud to remind me that I was starving. Ella's laughter floated to me from the kitchen, and I couldn’t help but smile.
"I’m home," I called out, setting my bag down and joining my family in our small, cozy kitchen. Mom turned over her shoulder to look at me, a warm smile lighting up her lightly-lined face. "Hey, honeybun! How was work?"
"Long," I admitted, only managing a flickering half-grin when I met Mom’s eyes. The real thing was reserved for my little one, and when Ella jumped up to hug me around the waist, it lit up my whole face enough to make up for the broken fluorescent fixture above our heads. "But it’s much, much better now that I get to come home to my two favorite ladies."
Ella beamed up at me once I’d finished peppering her head with kisses. "I helped Grammy with dinner, Mama!" she announced proudly. “No bugs in anything, promise. I inspected it.”
I resisted the urge to laugh, knowing my five-year-old was gravely serious about this. Her bug obsession had extended to sharing often-horrifying facts about how many bugs the FDA allowed in our canned goods, and I hadn’t been able to look at canned corn the same way since. We’d had a little talk about not sharing that kind of fact at the dinner table after one of her school friends’ parents complained, but there was no stopping this child’s curiosity.
"Did you now?" I ruffled Ella's hair as I let her go, then came around the counter to stand beside Mom. "I bet you were a big help."
"She was," my mother confirmed. "Measured out everything perfectly, and she even cut up some of the veggies. With her little baby proof knife, of course.” Mom hurried to tamp down my neuroses before they could run wild. Say what you would about our relationship, but the two of us knew each other.
“My grandbaby is the smartest around,” she continued. “I bet she’d be good at rocket science if we gave her a chance. Hey, Ella, you wanna help change the oil in the car?"
Ella giggled, and even in this lovely family moment, I could feel that dread creeping up again. “Ella, baby, will you go set the table for us?”
