And ever since then, something’s been itching at the back of my skull.
It’s something that makes me stop noticing women like the one who just flirted with me. Something that keeps me up at night, wondering what kind of noises she’d make if she ever let herself let go. If she ever let go forme.
And yeah, that scares the shit out of me a little bit.
She’s younger than me. At the top of her career and pushing for more.
I’ve got nothing to give her. Most people want something from me—money, status, a luxury lifestyle.
Carina doesn’t.
I make my way over to a table and sink down onto the seat, stretching my leg out to give it a rest.
Theo appears a few minutes later, clutching what looks like a half-eaten cheese cube in one hand and an empty sippy cup in the other. He beelines straight for me, weaving between ankles like a heat-seeking missile.
I don’t even get the chance to brace before he climbs.
“Jesus,” I mutter, catching him under the arms as he tries to hoist himself up using my shirt. “You ever heard of personal space?”
He breathes loudly with concentration and shoves the cheese cube against my jaw. “Eat it.”
“I don’t take bribes.”
He shoves it harder.
I take the cube, pretend to eat it with large gobbling sounds, then let him collapse into my chest with a loud, satisfied giggle. He smells like juice and cheese and something vaguely floral—probably Charlie’s perfume—and his fingers are already clutching the fabric at my shoulder.
Meadow whirls past a second later in a flurry of pink tulle, chasing Noah, who’s half-laughing, half-yelling something about dragons. Their fancy clothes are already wrinkled and dirt-stained, which feels about right.
Jake follows them with a resigned shake of his head, stopping when he spots Theo using me as a recliner.
“Don’t teach him any bad words,” he warns, though the corner of his mouth is already twitching.
“Too late,” I say.
He grins and moves on.
Theo rests his chin on my collarbone, suddenly sleepy and humming a song that only he knows the melody to, and for a moment, I let myself lean into it. The warmth, the weight. The weird, stable rhythm of tiny lungs exhaling against my chest.
“You really are a natural,” a voice says behind me.
I don’t have to turn to know it’s Charlie.
She walks around to face me, barefoot now, her heels long discarded and red curls pinned up in a twisted knot that’s falling loose in places. Her lipstick is faded, and her mascara is a bit smudged, but she looks happier than I’ve ever seen her.
I nod toward her kid on my chest. “He’s not bad once he’s sedated.”
Charlie laughs. “He’s obsessed with you.”
“He’ll grow out of it.”
She doesn’t argue, just smiles softly, then hitches her dress and steps up onto the low stone ledge by the outdoor fireplace. The music cuts mid-song, and the courtyard quiets almost immediately. Conversations fade, and heads turn.
Jake looks up from where he’s crouched near the bar, re-stacking soda cans with Noah. His brow furrows.
“Okay,” Charlie says, holding her glass a little higher. “I told Jake I didn’t want speeches.”
There’s a collective laugh, and Jake lets out a quiet groan, probably anticipating she’s about to make one anyway, and he’s got nothing prepared.
