“I didn’t say that.”
“Your eyes did. And if I were going to steal anything from this house, it’d be your kid.” I shoot the toddler a small wink, who’s still balanced on his father’s hip.
“Look, you’re probably going to punch me for this, but… your phone.”
“What about it?” I flash him my screen, but then it dawns on me, and I sigh. “I didn’t take any photos or videos of anything.”
His face is expressionless, so with raised brows, I pull up my gallery on my phone and pass it to Evan. Thank God I don’t have any nudes on there. “See? I don’t care about you enough to remind myself of the moment we met. Sorry to burst your bubble."
There’s a flash of humour that passes through Evan’s ice greys, however, it disappears quickly and is replaced with a grouchy frown. He clears his throat and passes my phone back, eyes flitting to the door.
Before I go, I direct my attention to Leo, who’s studying me with a pouted bottom lip and bunched eyebrows.
“Bye, Flo. Donkey says Thank You.”
I smile at him. “Bye, Leo. Tell Donkey he’s very welcome.”
Evan’s jaw tightens as he looks at his son’s face, then he quickly drags his gaze away and focuses on my form, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He remains stiff, as stillas a statue, and I take one last glance at him and pop a brow before opening the front door and leaving.
My twitchy fingers squeeze the car keys in my hand, unable to keep still, and I can’t tell if it’s because my sugar level has dropped too low—I can check using my phone app connected to my CGM device—or I’m frustrated with the way Evan just looked at me.
I don’t know what the hell just happened in there. It was a little bit of a blur. But if I’ve just learned one thing, it’s that the tabloids aren’t exaggerating when they say Evan is a grouchy and uptight hell of a man.
Never seeing him again would be far too soon.
“And Alexander didn’t freak out or anything?” my best friend, Mae, asks as we sit inside Mug & Mingle, a new coffee shop that just opened up near the Missarali Storks Stadium.
Poppy, Mae’s fellow cheerleader and her boyfriend’s little sister, takes a seat beside us after collecting her chocolate croissant from the service counter.
I shrug, slurping on my iced matcha latte. “It’s Alexander. The only time he’ll ever show any kind of personalityis when he’s arguing with the office vending machine about stealing his dollar. He didn’t even care.”
“Are you sure about quitting, Flo? You’ve been with Starbound for years.”
“It’s not rewarding.” My fingers grip my plastic cup tightly. I hate being vulnerable. I’d rather not express my deepest emotions. Instead, opting for stuffing them somewhere just behind my heart, where no one can access them, sometimes not even myself. Life is easier when you’re carefree. “I’m not passionate about being a talent agent, so it’s best I get out now. I don’t want to be trapped in an industry like that. It was probably a blessing in disguise.”
Although, now I have to start from scratch, and I have no idea where to go from here.
I’m envious of my best friend. She’s always known what she wants to do. Animals have always been her passion, and she works at the local animal shelter, is a cheerleader for the Storks, and is also a bartender at a local bar. In the words of Sabrina Carpenter, she’s a busy woman.
She’s also dating the ex-captain of the Storks, Nathan Slater, and they have a perfect little life.
Meanwhile, mine feels messy.
But me being me, I pretend not to care.
“Exactly, you’re only twenty-six. You’ve still got time. Plus, you’re hot,” Poppy says, her cheer uniform now covered in crusty pastry. Noticing me looking, she offers me some, and I shake my head after checking my blood sugar on my app.
“I’m good, thanks, Pops. My blood sugar’s been in range all day, and I don’t want to mess it up.”
“Why do I always forget you have diabetes?” She takes another bite of her croissant. “What was I saying again? Oh yeah, you’re hot!”
“Yeah, well, tell that to my empty DMs.”
“Flo, you hate men.”
I narrow my eyes at Mae. “I hate trashy men. There’s a difference.”
“Plenty of the Missarali Storks guys are single.” Mae grins over the brim of her mug, the scent of her cinnamon latte sweet and sickly, and I roll my eyes.
