“Exactly. They liked that I was young and not likely to die or retire anytime soon and their sons thought I was a badass, so it was easy to keep them in line.” Rafe picked at the edge of his cloth napkin that was still on the table. “They hired me, my grandma came to help out with Hope and Gracie, and here I am. That’s my whole life story.”
“Do you enjoy it? Watching other people’s children,” Sloan asked.
“I do. I don’t know. It’s never boring with kids. I liked hanging out at the shop with Hector and my uncles, but watching Hope discover her own toes and waiting for Monica to come home so I could show her that Gracie was walking was pretty cool. Watching kids experience things for the first time never gets old.”
“That’s funny. That’s my favorite part of being a mom, aside from having two mini mes that I just want to snuggle all the time. Even when Avery says something fresh or Addison does something like trying to take apart a toaster, I’m in awe watching the way they take on the world.”
“It’s pretty crazy. Also, I feel like kids run into plenty of shitty adults along the way, so if I can be a good adult in their life, that has to count for something.”
“It does. I—my mom and I fought a lot about her being my constant shadow, but I think about how my experience would have been if she’d just dropped me off at high school when I was seven and just walked away.”
“She went to school with you?”
“Yep. Right up through med school. She sat behind me or beside me every day. For a long time, I thought she just didn’t trust me.”
“She didn’t trust anyone with her baby.”
“Sure didn’t. To say I can relate is an understatement. I want to protect them all the time.”
“You always will. Hope doesn’t leave for college for a year and I’m already praying she picks a local school. And she’s not even my kid.”
“She and Gracie are lucky to have you.”
“Yeah, I love those little punks.”
The waitress arrived with their massive steaks and topped off their drinks. They both ate in silence for a few moments. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself, but so far this was a pretty perfect first date.
“I like being with you,” she confessed.
“I like being with you.” Rafe reached over and took her hand, reducing Sloan to a puddle of gush and feels when he brushed his lips across her fingers. She knew it was way too soon to make the call, but she had a feeling that Rafe Whitcomb was a real keeper.
14
Something was off with Rafe when he woke up the next morning. His date with Sloan had been exactly what he’d wanted. A quiet night out, just the two of them. Good food, open and honest conversation. After he’d paid the bill, Sloan said she wanted to go to the beach. They drove to Venice and walked down the paths, away from the booths and vendors.
Rafe had looked at the lights in the distance from the pier and, for a moment, considered how much his life had changed since the first time he set foot on the same beach. He’d spent more time thinking about how good it felt to be there with Sloan under his arm. When they got back to the house, they had sex on the living room floor on top of one of the dozens of fluffy-ass blankets that Sloan kept around the house.
They’d ended up in Sloan’s bed, where she fell asleep in his arms. After listening to her snore for a good hour, Rafe called it a night himself, drifting off with her soft body pressed against him. When they woke up, neither of them were in a hurry to get out of bed. Rafe would make them waffles when they got their asses in gear and made their way downstairs, but for now chilling in Sloan’s bedroom and watching British cooking shows was perfectly fine by him.
For some reason, though, Rafe couldn’t stop thinking about how they were running out of time. A little more than twenty-fours and they would have to get back to pretending there was nothing romantic going on between them. He actually missed the girls. The house wasn’t the same without them. He missed their energy, their never-ending questions and their attempts at silly jokes, but the moment they popped into his head, all Rafe could think about was their asshole father, Drew. There was a line between what was now his business and what was for Sloan to keep to herself, but she and her kids mattered to him now in a different way and there was something about that that was just digging at him.
“I’ll be right back. Tell me if I miss the judging for the tarts.” Sloan hopped up and went to her closet. She came back out wearing a thin, silk night thing that made her tits look amazing before she slipped into the bathroom. Rafe grabbed the remote and hit pause. He was rooting for the young Irish kid to win the whole thing, but that didn’t matter at the moment. Sloan came out of the bathroom, lotioning her hands.
“Oh, you paused it. Thank you.” She flopped back down on the bed, but Rafe didn’t hit play.
“Can I ask you something?”
Sloan sat up and moved, so she was facing him with her legs crossed. “Sure, what’s up? Is everything okay?”
“I was wondering what happened between you and Drew”
“Like all of it or why did we split up?”
“Why did you split up, with a side of as much as you want to tell me.”
“He cheated, but that was the other shoe. When we met, he had so much more professional experience. He was older, cooler. His private practice was finally doing well. I think he saw me as someone he could mold and control, and also be his arm candy. But when I refused to come work for him, he started gaslighting me. Everything I did would have been better if I’d done it with him.
“When I started pushing back, he started saying that I was selfish because I wasn’t using my talents to help build his practice. It was hard enough being a very young Black woman trying to get respect in her field—that’s still hard, but then to get that shit from him at home? It messed with my head a lot.
