I find myself smiling. “That’s really sweet. And thank you for thinking of me.”
He gives a bashful smile. “Not a problem.” He hesitates then asks, “Is the father completely out the picture?”
I’m prepared for curious questions—Mrs. Wainwright's been asking plenty—but for once, I don’t want to think about Kade or his rejection.
“I left it open door,” I say with a shrug. “He knows the situation, and so far, he isn’t here, so . . .”
“His loss.”
I take a large gulp then set my glass down. “Look, just to lay my cards out, I’m not looking for anything. My life is a complete mess, and if I’m honest, I’m not over Kade.”
“Eden . . . relax. I’m not hitting on you.”
I stop, my mouth hanging open. And then I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Of course, you’re not hitting on me.” I scoff, shaking my head. “Why would you? I mean, look at me,” I say, rubbing a hand over my stomach.
He grabs my hand, gently holding onto it. “Not because you’re pregnant,” he tells me, and my heart slams harder. Maybe he just thinks I’m a troll. “Or because I don’t think you’re hot,” he smirks, “because you are beautiful.” My cheeks burn brighter. “But because I’m not into girls.”
I inhale sharply, almost choking on my own saliva. “Oh, oh god. I didn’t know. Mrs. Wainwright never told me, and you don’t look . . .” I trail off again, this time wincing as he laughs hard.
“Gay?” he finishes for me. “I get that a lot. And Mrs. Wainwright likes to think she knows everything, but she doesn’t. Plus, I keep my private life very private.”
I nod. “I swear I won’t tell anyone.”
“Not that it’s a big secret,” he adds. “If someone asks, I’ll tell them. But this is a small place, and some of the residents are a little . . . set in their ways. So, I don’t make a big deal out of it. And any guys I meet are off Tinder from outta town. They arrive in a taxi and leave the same way.”
“Oh.” It’s all I can think to say.
“You just look like you need a friend, so I thought I’d invite you for a drink.”
I bury my face in my hands. “I’m so embarrassed,” I whisper. “The nerve of me to think you fancied me.”
He laughs again, deep and throaty, but somehow, it doesn’t have the same effect it had on me before. “Sorry, I should’ve been more upfront. It’s just weird, though, isn’t it, introducing yourself and adding, ‘oh by the way, I’m gay’.”
“I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s just Martha and Mrs. Wainwright, they put this idea in my head that you liked me.”
“I do, just not in that way.”
I smile, nodding, even though I’m crippled with embarrassment. “I don’t know what’s worse, me thinking youfancied me and was about to ask me out or that you’ve asked me out for a drink as a pity friend.”
He laughs again. “Pity friend?” he repeats.
“I’m a sad loner, so you befriended me.”
“Not at all. I like company, and we hit it off.”
By the time I get home, I’m over my embarrassment. Martha is waiting, and she pauses the television when I enter. “How did it go?” she asks excitedly.
“Great,” I beam, and her eyes widen in surprise. “He’s hot, charming, everything I want in a dad for this little one,” I say, patting my stomach.
She narrows her eyes. “Are you joking?”
I grab the nearest cushion and throw it at her. “He’s gay,” I wail, falling onto the couch beside her. “He was just being nice.”
“Oh my god, he is not,” she cries, her mouth falling open.
“One hundred percent. Christ, Martha, I let you and Mrs. Wainwright completely get in my head.” I giggle. “I almost gave him the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line.” She claps her hands over her mouth. “Exactly,” I cry. “I was mortified.”
“That’s hilarious.”
