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Rosa hummed thoughtfully but didn’t say anything.
Her silence made me very twitchy.
“He still holds himself back from Mira,” I continued. “I can see it plain as day.”
“It’s been less than two weeks since he started helping,” she pointed out. “Give him a little time.”
“I know. That’s also why she’s not sleeping over there unless I’m actually gone.” I tugged at the ponytail holder keeping my hair back. “I think she likes sleeping there, but ...” My voice trailed off for a moment. “If she wakes up with a nightmare or something, I can just about imagine how he’d react. He’d pat her on the head and tell her to go the fuck back to sleep or something.”
Rosa laughed. “He can’t be that bad.”
“He sure can. The day she was born, he patted her on the head and said, ‘There, there, you can stop now.’”
Her laughter increased, and it was enough to have me cracking a smile. If nothing else, at least Liam was consistent.
The man in question stood up, and the motion caught my eye.
My head angled to the side when he stretched his arms high. The hem of his black shirt rode up, and I caught a glimpse of his hard stomach and a thin line of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. His gaze snapped over to mine, and I immediately backed away from the slider, my heart thumping just a little bit harder.
Exactly what I didn’t need—that jerk catching me ogling.
Rosa smothered her smile, and I glared. “Not funny.”
She waved it away. “A little funny. Or it’s inevitable, at least. Two attractive, single peoplethrustinto a situation where they can’t escape each other.”
“I do not appreciate your emphasis on the thrusting. There’s no thrusting happening anywhere in this situation, believe me.” I peeked at the dough with as much nonchalance as I could muster. “Zero thrusting since my divorce, actually.”
Rosa whistled. “Long time, sweet cheeks.”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
“And you’ve never missed it?” Rosa looked highly skeptical.
“Put that eyebrow down,” I told her. “It’s so judgy.”
She laughed.
Somehow, I managed a swallow as I untangled the knot of my thoughts.
“My whole life, I’ve wanted the fairy tale, right? My mom always teased me about being the math girl who loved her love stories, but they’re similar to me. Math is predictable; it has rules and structure and known outcomes, as long as you plug everything in correctly. And while I hate using the wordpredictableto describe the books I love to read—it sounds too inherently negative—there is comfort in knowing that these two people are perfectly matched in their flaws and that they’ll cherishand respect and fight for each other and come out the other side with a happily-ever-after.”
“There is,” Rosa agreed.
“I miss feeling like that’s possible for me,” I said quietly. “That someone will sweep me off my feet because he can’t help himself. Because I’m just exactly what he is looking for.”
Rosa was quiet for a few moments, studying my face before she spoke. “Why doesn’t it feel possible?”
“Less possible,” I amended. “So much harder now, because Mira’s my priority.”
Rosa hummed.
“And maybe I’ve changed too much in the last ten years. Maybe I don’t even know what I want anymore.”
“Definitely not a grumpy Brit,” she said lightly.
“Definitely not. I don’t care what his arms look like.”
She hummed anew.
