“When we get home, sweet boy,” she answers, before she leans in and kisses his cheek.
It might as well be my cheek for the way my heart hammers inside my chest, witnessing her easy affection with my boy. It’s not just that. I want to know what her lips feel like pressed against my skin. Camden gives her a sleepy smile, and all I can think is, Same, son, but I keep those thoughts to myself.
Reaching around Sloane, I open the passenger door for her and wait until she’s buckled in to close the door behind her. Once I’m behind the wheel, I glance over at her. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, I could eat, and I know Cam’s probably hungry, too.” She turns to glance at my son in the back seat. “Are you hungry?” she asks him.
“Pamcake!” he cheers, and we both laugh. He’s wide-awake now and ready to go after his power nap. He was so good during the service, being quiet and eventually falling asleep as Sloane gently rubbed his back. She calms him. Hell, she calms me. She just has that effect on the Sinclair men, it seems.
“There’s a diner not far from here. I’m sure we can convince them to make him a pancake,” I tell her.
“Let’s do it.” Her smile is radiant, and I have the sudden urge to lean over the console and press my lips to hers. Instead, I focus on pulling out of the parking lot and ignore the impulse.
At a stoplight, I glance at her only to find she’s watching me. I can’t name the expression in her eyes, but it’s soft, and I can’t resist. Reaching over, I lace her fingers through mine and bring our joined hands to my thigh. I keep them there for the remainder of the drive. We don’t talk about it, and she doesn’t try to pull away. My only excuse is that she’s been my lifeline through all of this, and I need that connection to her.
It’s early afternoon, and the parking lot of the diner is practically empty. I’m thankful for that, and it’s exactly what I was hoping for. It’s not that I mind meeting my fans. It’s a part of the job, but today, I just need time with my boy and Sloane.
Reluctantly, I release her hand and climb out of the SUV. By the time I walk around to their side, she’s already got the diaper bag slung over one shoulder and Camden resting on her hip.
“Come here, you.” I reach for my son, and he giggles and turns his head away from me, tucking his arms close and hiding into Sloane’s chest. “What? No love for Daddy?” I ask him.
“Daddy, wove.” He peers up at me and grins.
I hold my arms out again, and this time, he leaps into them and gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “That’s a big kiss. Thank you,” I tell him, hugging him tightly. This little boy is my world.
“I should change him,” Sloane says as we enter the diner.
“I can do it,” I tell her, reaching over to take the diaper bag from her shoulder. “Grab us a booth and a booster seat if they have it. If not, a highchair will work, or he can just sit on my lap.”
“Will do,” she replies.
I don’t know why I do it, but I don’t regret it when I bend and press my lips to her temple, then stride off toward the restrooms to change his diaper. However, when I get there, there’s no changing table. I hate this. There are so many restaurants that only have changing tables in the ladies' room or family restrooms. What about the dads who need to care for their children? Not just the single dads, but dads in general. I don’t know what my future holds, but if I’m ever lucky enough to find the love of my life, I’d never expect her to do everything for our kids. Hell, I know Reid doesn’t, and Knox won’t either.
This is an older establishment, but it’s still frustrating. With a huff, I head back out and over to the booth I see Sloane sitting in.
“That was fast. Teach me your ways.” She chuckles.
“There wasn’t a changing table,” I grumble.
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “I guess I didn’t think about that.”
“Yeah, a lot of men’s restrooms don’t have them, and it’s irritating.”
“Well, that’s all right, because you have me.” She slides out of the booth, takes the diaper bag, places it over her shoulder, and holds her arms out for Camden. He goes to her with ease. “I ordered us a sweet tea, and this little guy a milk.” She turns to me and says, “There’s an empty cup in there, side pocket,” she tells me.
“You thought of everything,” I tell her, reaching into the diaper bag and pulling out the sippy cup.
“Just trying to make things easier for you today.”
Not just today, every day. “Every day,” I tell her, and her big brown eyes widen in surprise. If my words shock her, I’m not telling her enough how much I appreciate what she’s doing and what she’s done for me.
She nods and swallows hard. “We’ll be right back.” With that, she turns and walks off toward the restrooms.
“Here you go,” the waitress says, dropping off two sweet teas, a glass of milk, and extra napkins. “Take a look at the menu, and when your wife is back, I’ll come take your order,” she says, before rushing away, disappearing into the kitchen.
My wife.
I should have corrected her. I don’t need rumors getting started and the tabloids getting a hold of them. Even worse, the drama that it would bring to Sloane’s life. I should have spoken up, but there was something deep inside me that kept my mouth clamped shut.
