“I came back to New York about a year ago. I was working out of Queens and going back and forth to my family here, but I finally got transferred to a firehouse in the Bronx.” Nick scratched the back of his head as a moment of uncomfortable silence passed between us. “So, Evan’s going to be a dad again?”
“Yep, a nervous one.” I chuckled. “Paige is actually sick of being doted over.”
Nick chuckled as I opened my car door and strapped Jack into his seat. My eyes darted across his chest and quickly rerouted to his eyes. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Didn’t want to wear your Scout shirt home?” I nodded to his new black T-shirt and couldn’t help the twist of a smirk on my lips.
Nick laughed. “I stepped into the bathroom to change. The guys at the firehouse love to bust my chops for doing this.”
“What other stuff are we gonna make?” Jack called from the backseat, keeping a tight grip on his project.
Nick’s chest rumbled with a hearty laugh that I didn’t find even a little sexy. “I love the enthusiasm, buddy. Lots of stuff. And we’ll be going hiking and camping, too.”
“I can’t wait to go camping!” Jack beamed at Nick. “I bet there are spiders and ants.”
Shaking my head, I draped my hand over my eyes. “I’m sure there are, kiddo.”
Nick snickered at me as I cringed.
“You put that car together like a champ. Faster than most of the dads in there, that’s for sure.” Nick raised an impressed eyebrow at me.
I let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I do a lot to keep ahead of most of the dads. That way, my son doesn’t miss out on anything.”
Nick nodded. “So, it’s just you—”
“Yep, just me and Jack.” I shut the back door and turned back to Nick. “Sorry, I couldn’t place you at first. I’m surprised you recognized me.”
“Well.” Nick stepped closer to me and offered a sheepish grin. “Like I said that night, you’re beautiful.” Nick gave me a generous glimpse of his dimples as my cheeks heated from the compliment. “Have a good night,” he said, before traipsing away.
I sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine, reeling at how forward he was. Or maybe he wasn’t; maybe I was just an awkward mess around men in general. I turned him down five years ago, and he’d said, “Another night, then.”
It wasn’t another night yet because I was still stuck in the same sad life.
I GLANCED ATmy watch and sighed. My older sister Kate always loved to make an entrance. Every week, she dragged me out to a girl’s dinner to berate me for not going out more. This week was a fancy trattoria in Eastchester.
She was a workaholic with an addiction to designer everything. InSex and the Cityterms, she was Samantha to my Charlotte. She traveled all over the world for work, but in the years since I’d lost Jack, her trips abroad became few and far between. She claimed her promotion didn’t require much travel, but I knew better. She traded in her jet-setter status to be a hovering, albeit well-meaning, big sister. Despite myself, the nights she forced me out the door I always came home with a smile on my face.
“Hey, EJ! Sorry I’m late!” The waitress came over to our table just as my sister blew into the restaurant and plopped herself in the chair across from me. “I’ll have . . . what she’s having. Oh, wait. What’s that, Pinot?”
I leaned my elbows on the table and held in a smirk. “Moscato.”
“Ugh, you’re still drinking that shit?” Kate waved her hand at the waitress. “Get me a Malbec.”
I broke my gaze from hers and laughed. She hated sweet, “girly” drinks. I wanted to like red, but I couldn’t; way too bitter for me. Sweet and bubbly was my taste—although it had been a long time since anyone described me as that. I liked to think I was still sweet, but bubbly? Nope. Not for a while.
“So, little sister. What’s going on?” Kate smoothed chestnut wisps of hair away from her face and scooted her chair closer to the table. We both kept our hair short, but her dark hair was cut in long layers around her face while I’d kept the same pixie cut since I was sixteen. I was sure we had a midget relative somewhere down the line who made me so little. My petite stature earned me a lot of names growing up: Polly Pocket, fairy dust, short stuff, but only one person ever got away with calling me a pixie.
I shrugged. “Same old stuff.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “What’s going on with the dating app? Did you go meet that guy? What was his name? Mick?”
“Michael.” I corrected her. “And absolutely frigging not.” I took a big gulp of my fizzy drink.
She scowled at me as the waitress set the glass of deep red liquid in front of her. “You know, EJ, the point of the dating app is to actually, you know,date. What did you find wrong with this one?”
“He asked for a picture of my feet.”
Kate sputtered out her wine and burst out laughing. “Your feet? Why?”
