As I dig into my bowl of leaves, Brock texts someone on his phone. He’s spent almost the entire time we’ve been here either texting or checking messages. It’s like I’m not even here.
Taking a bite of the salad, I nearly choke. One of the leaves hit the back of my throat, and I had to cough it out.
“You okay?” Brock asks, not looking up from his phone.
“I can’t eat this salad,” I say, setting my fork down.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s like eating grass. I’m usually not picky but I’ve never tasted anything like this. Do people really think this is good?”
“Morgan lives on kale. Puts it in everything.”
“Who’s Morgan?”
He looks up. “My girlfriend. I mentioned her on the phone.”
“You did?”
“I told you about her daughter, Livia. I thought you two might be friends.”
“I don’t remember any of this. Are you sure you told me?”
“It was soon after your mother passed. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Anyway, I was hoping we’d all go to dinner some night so you could meet them.”
“How old is her daughter?”
“She’s fourteen but mature for her age.”
“No offense but I don’t need help getting friends. And fourteen’s too young. I’d feel like I’m her babysitter.”
“Then maybe try being like a sister to her. She could use some guidance.”
“A sister?” I laugh. “Are you marrying her mom?”
“Maybe,” he casually says while cutting into his salmon.
“Haven’t you been married three times already?”
“Two. I was engaged to Anna, but we broke it off before the ceremony.”
“But you only have two kids, right? There aren’t others you didn’t tell me about?”
He clears his throat. “The boys are it. They’re enough. They can be quite a handful.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know how boys are . . . always causing trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Fights at school. Drinking. The typical things kids do at that age.” He smiles at me. “Devon assures me I won’t have the same issues with you.”
“He doesn’t know me that well,” I say, meeting Brock’s eyes across the table.
“You’re saying you’ve been in trouble?”
“I’m saying I’m not as innocent as I look.”
