He grins at the boys, who start clambering up the geometric dome climber in the center of the space, then glances over to the mom and offers her a polite smile. She must be a football fan because I see the moment actual recognition hits. Her eyes go wide, her mouth forms a little ‘o’, and she reaches into the diaper bag strapped onto the handle of the stroller like she’s going for her phone.
“Nice morning for aprivatefamily outing,” I say as I stand and move toward Felix and Ellie.
The woman freezes like I’ve just read her Miranda Rights. “Is that…?”
“A giant human pushing a toddler in a swing?” My voice is sweet as spun sugar but there’s no mistaking the warning beneath my words. “Yes, it is.”
“We’re huge Grizzlies fans,” she answers, almost apologetically. Felix’s focus has returned to Ellie, so he’s clueless about being spotted.
I should have trusted my instinct about him being recognized and feel kind of bad because Felix Barlowe has a reputation for being available and down-to-earth with his fans. From everything I’ve read online (yeah, I’ve Googled him more than once), he manages to retain a “guy you could meet at a BBQ” vibe while being a superstar athlete. But with Ellie in the mix and his desire to keep a low profile, there’s going to be more of a balancing act between being approachable and maintaining personal boundaries.
Our playground outing was fun while it lasted.
“Honey.” I slip my hand into his and feel him go rigid. That’s an interesting reaction, but I ignore it. “I think someone needs a diaper change.”
Felix glances at the woman, registers her starstruck expression, and immediately lifts Ellie from the swing. “Right. Thanks, babe.”
Babe?
“Have a great day,” he tells the woman as we head toward the parking lot.
“Go Grizzlies,” she says in a breathy voice.
To my surprise, he holds onto my hand until we’re at the vehicle.
“I can’t believe I got Mom IDd,” he says, buckling Ellie into her car seat. “Her boys didn’t spare a second glance.”
“She was going for her phone,” I say as I climb into the passenger side, trying to ignore how much I liked the weight of his hand at the small of my back when he’d guided me away from the woman. How natural it felt to have our fingers linked together.
“Close call and fast thinking, Hart.”
I blow out a breath and glance over at him. “You called me ‘babe.’”
“You called me honey.” He backs out of the parking space, lips twitching. “I thought we were committing to the bit.”
“The bit where we’re what, exactly?” My voice is sharp, but I’m not angry at him. I’m angry at myself for how much I liked it.How, for just a second, I let myself pretend we were exactly what the stranger thought we were—a family. “We aren’t…” I shake my head. “Anything.”
The words taste like ash in my mouth. Because we’re something, aren’t we? Something undefined and complicated and getting messier by the day. But saying it out loud would make it real, and I can’t afford real right now. Not when I’m hiding a secret that could destroy whatever this fragile thing between us is.
Felix’s fingers grip the steering wheel more tightly, his knuckles going white. “I didn’t mean anything.” He adjusts the brim on his ball cap like he’s shielding himself from something. “I get that you were helping me avoid a scene, and I appreciate it.”
“Right.” I look out the window, a ball of emotion I can’t quite identify lodging in my throat. “Just two people pretending to share custody of a toddler who isn’t ours while we avoid a fangirl mom moment. All part of the deal.”
A heavy silence stretches between us, and I want to take the words back, or soften them somehow, but I don’t know how without revealing too much.
“Piper—”
“We should grab lunch.” I cut him off, desperate to move past this moment. “How about that café Mindy recommended? She said they have the best chicken noodle soup and great sandwiches. I can run in and order carryout while you stay with Ellie.”
He studies me for a moment, like we have way more important things to talk about than sandwiches. Then Ellie starts singing about twinkling stars from the backseat, and he nods slowly.
“Give me the name, and I’ll put it in the GPS.”
Twenty minutes later, I return to the car with soup, sandwiches, and sides, and we drive back to the cabin in near silence. The only sound is Ellie’s happy babbling and the occasional ding of the turn signal.
The lunch feels awkward in a way things haven’t been sincethat first morning. We make ridiculously polite small talk, and when Felix reaches for a chip at the same time I do, we both jerk back like we’ve been burned.
“Sorry,” we say in unison, then look away from each other.
