Page 51 of Fall Over You

Becca taps the end of Ellie’s nose. “I’ll make sure to tell her. She’ll be glad to hear that.” She rises, carrying Ellie with her on her hip. “Smells good in here. What are you two making?”

Her bright blue eyes peer at me, but her expression has settled from the unbridled joy she has with Ellie. She’s still not thrilled with me, and I don’t blame her. I was an asshole. The timer on the oven dings, and I shuffle around looking for an oven mitt.

“Oh, I just use a kitchen towel,” she says, pulling one off the stove handle. “Sorry. Usually only have to worry about my own hands.”

“No problem.” I take the towel from her and dip to get the muffins out of the oven. “Made your favorite, though.”

“Wow, lucky me.” Becca looks confused, then turns to Ellie. “Was this your idea?”

She shakes her head, and I’m terrified of what she might say to Becca. Kids say the darndest things or whatever. “Nope. Daddy said we need to do something nice for you because he was a meanie on accident.”

Could have been more embarrassing, I guess.

“Yeah, well, I already cleaned up the chickensh—I mean stuff, this morning,” Becca says, a crack in her voice.

I shoot her a sheepish smile. Chickenshit. She called me a chickenshit because I didn’t kiss her. When push came to shove, I just couldn’t do it. I’ve spent so many years telling myself that she wasn’t mine to have that she now feels like forbidden fruit, like one touch would burn my skin, like some alarm would go off the second my lips met hers.

Plus, there’s the fact that my last relationship ended with me holding an infant, a massive rehab bill, and a note in the bathroom. Logically, nothing points to today’s Becca doing what CJ did. I want to believe in romantic love again. I get tiny squeezes in my stomach when I think of going that route with Becca, but it’s usually accompanied by a deeper gut tug that tells me it’s all too dangerous.

But Becca’s right, kissing her is inevitable in this arrangement. I should have gotten in a practice run while I had the chance.

I use a spoon to pop the muffins out of the tin and onto a plate. “El, wanna help me with the topping?”

“Oh, yummy,” Becca says as she puts Ellie back on the chair she was using to reach the counter. Then she looks at the clock on the wall. “I might have to eat one later, then. I have a school group coming soon and I need to go get everything ready. Then I really need to cut pumpkins for the weekend, probably until dark.”

I dig a spoon into the muffin topping, sprinkle it over one, and wrap it in a paper towel. “Here. For the road.”

“Thanks.” Our fingers brush as she takes the muffin from me, and my heart picks up. It’s too early to be feeling confusing feelings from the past. That guy who smoked a joint with Becca on the hood of my car would swing that baseball bat at me for not acting on this.

I’m a grown man. I can kiss who I want.

I’m not a chickenshit.

So why do I stutter when I say the next thing?

“I don’t know when you’ll be up here next, but I’ve got chili in the crockpot. Should be ready by lunchtime, but I planned it for dinner.”

“Oh. Sure, I can wait for dinner.”

This is all so domestic. I never cooked much more than mac and cheese before Ellie. I cook for Ellie all the time, but I feel somewhat on the spot cooking for another adult.

A partner.

Potential partner. Fake partner. Potential fake partner if that partnership will allow us to borrow money and get out of this hole.

Becca turns to go, and I need to talk to her.

“Ellie, why don’t you go get dressed for school?” I say. “Reba, can you stay a minute?”

Becca looks up while she stuffs her foot into her boot. “What’s up?”

“I can get Ellie from preschool if you can be with her after I get home from work. I can work on the cottage.”

She hesitates. “You don’t have to start on that. We don’t even know if we’ll get the loan yet.”

I plead with my eyes. “For staying over. Least I can do. Please? Unless you don’t want to watch Ellie tonight.”

Becca’s eyes soften. “No, I’d love to. She can help me with a project in the pumpkin patch.”