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Eight
Kyleigh
Henry workssome sort of magic, and we’re sat at a table in the back corner. Rowan’s carrying my plate over, and Henry is carrying Alara’s.
“Just so you know, I’m taken,” Alara says when we sit down.
I stare at her with a what the fuck expression.
She shrugs. “Justin would want me to tell them.”
“He’d also want you to get autographs.” The first time I met Justin, we talked about Rowan’s trade and what it meant for the Falcons going forward.
“Understood,” Henry says, picking up his menu and not giving Alara a second look.
“Not that you’re not hot and shit, but I can tell you’re definitely a serious relationship kind of girl.” Tweetie gulps down his water in three swallows.
“How can you tell that just by looking at me?” Alara challenges him as she does with most things.
“I was disappointed when I woke up this morning,” Rowan says, leaning close.
The first thing I notice is he’s not wearing cologne. I loved it on him last night, but the scent of his masculine soap is even better.
“We ran out of condoms,” I whisper back.
Alara eyes me over her waffle flight.
“What’s that?” Bodhi asks Alara, almost sticking his finger in her whipped cream.
“Be careful, bud,” Henry says, tugging him back into his seat.
“It’s called a waffle flight. Each waffle has something different. This one has strawberries. This one has bananas…” She points and names the other two. She’s so good with kids, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re training to become a child psychologist.
“Oh, I want one of those.” Bodhi looks at his dad, and Henry opens his mouth.
I’m trying to focus on the table conversation rather than the way Rowan’s bicep keeps brushing against mine.
“There are drug stores on every corner,” he says.
Alara, Henry, and Bodhi are in a conversation about the waffle flight, and thankfully Tweetie, who was eyeing Rowan and me pretty hard, gets up to take a call, his phone held to his ear.
“Let’s not call last night more than it was,” I say in a low voice, then fork my pancake, feeling uncomfortable eating before they’ve even ordered, but happy for the excuse to not have to give my full attention to Rowan.
Alara passes Bodhi her untouched waffle flight, so now it’s just the kid and me eating. This is the weirdest breakfast.
“I want to see you again.” Rowan picks up my plate and sets it on the edge of the table.
“What are you doing?” I reach for the plate, but if I go too far, I’ll end up stretched out over his lap.
“They’re cold now. You deserve hot ones where the butter melts and soaks into the fluffy goodness. This way I can keep you here a little longer.”
I sigh and hold up my coffee mug to the waitress walking by, needing something to distract me. She pours my coffee and fills Henry’s cup. He asks her to pour Tweetie one too. Rowan asks for a chocolate milk.
“You drink chocolate milk?” Alara asks, not disguising how funny she thinks that is.
“I want a chocolate milk, Daddy.” Bodhi looks up at Henry.
Henry looks to Rowan with a thanks-a-lot expression.
