Page 18 of Want to Know a Secret?

“I think I can handle a few hours alone with Bobby.”

That remains to be seen. Whenever I go out, Elliot always texts me the most inane questions. He’s a high-powered attorney, but sometimes it feels like he can’t find his right hand without me. The last time I went out and he watched Bobby, he sent me a text asking where the milk was. The milk is in the refrigerator! If it’s not in the refrigerator, you shouldn’t be drinking it!

“Dad, can we play Nintendo together?” Bobby asks.

Elliot frowns. “I have a ton of work to do, Bobby. Can’t you play by yourself?”

“I guess.” Bobby drops his head and looks down at his macaroni and cheese. He loves playing Nintendo with Elliot, but I’m not surprised he doesn’t have time tonight. I’ve tried to play with him, but apparently, I “suck.”

Maria offered to drive us both to the school tonight. Parking is sparse, so we agreed it would be a good idea to carpool. And it will be a chance for me to get to know my new neighbor better.

I limp over to Maria’s house in my new Sergio Rossi pumps. It’s colder than I thought it would be, and I hug my wrap around my chest as I shiver. I consider going back for a coat, but I’m almost at Maria’s house. We’ll be in her white SUV in a few moments.

I hit the doorbell, but I don’t hear any chimes within the house. Maybe it’s broken. I wait for a few seconds, then bang on the door. After another few seconds, I hear footsteps, and the door swings open.

Damn, it’s Sean.

He’s the last person I want to see after that awkward encounter yesterday. Also, the last time I saw him, he was shirtless. And now I’m having trouble picturing him not shirtless. It makes me a little breathless all of a sudden.

“Hi!” I say brightly. “I’m—”

“April.” He flashes me a crooked smile. “I remember.” He steps to the side so I can slip past him. He smells like wood chips. “Come on in.”

He doesn’t seem angry, at least. Maybe he bought my story about wandering into the wrong room. Then again, he doesn’t seem stupid or naïve either.

“Maria will be down in a second,” he explains. “She’s still deciding on… shoes, I think.”

“Oh, she shouldn’t stress so much about what she’s wearing,” I say. Even though I spent two hours picking out my outfit for tonight.

“That’s what I said.” Sean shrugs. “So what is this thing tonight at the school?”

“Parent-Teacher Association,” I explain. “It’s where parents help fundraise for the school and plan fun and educational events for the kids.”

“Oh.” He scratches at his beard. “Should I be going to that then?”

I laugh.

He frowns. “Why is that funny?”

“Oh.” I blink at him. “I thought you were joking. Fathers usually don’t go to these meetings.”

“Really?” He focuses his blue eyes on me. “Why not? I’m a parent. What if I have ideas about fun and educational events for my kid?”

“Well…”

He’s not making an unreasonable point. But the fact of the matter is that fathers simply don’t go to the PTA meetings. In the two years I’ve been going, I’ve only seen one father there, and he was a bit creepy. One of those men whose eyes were always focused just a little bit below your face, if you know what I mean. And he spent fifteen straight minutes gushing about how much he liked my cooking show, and especially this one sweater I wore.

But before I can stammer out an excuse that wouldn’t be offensive, Maria appears at the bottom of the stairs and saves me. “Sean, you don’t want to go to a PTA meeting. You’d be bored stiff. And anyway, Owen is expecting to take you down in ping-pong tonight.”

Sean cracks a genuine smile. “No way. I’m still the ping-pong master. He’s not going to be able to beat me until he’s at least eight.”

“Don’t be silly. He’s letting you win.”

Sean grins wider and takes in Maria’s appearance. She’s wearing a dress like I am, which is a navy blue color that complements her dark blue eyes and is short enough to reveal some pretty shapely legs. He grabs her arm and pulls her in for a kiss that lasts for several seconds. She giggles, loving it. I drop my eyes.

“Don’t stay out too late,” I hear him murmur in her ear.

I look down at my nails, which I had done in a tasteful light pink a few days ago and still seem intact. I don’t know why Sean and Maria’s display of affection is making me so uncomfortable. Elliot kisses me all the time. But I can’t help but think that he never kisses me quite like that. Not anymore, at least.