“Matt!”
“Sorry.”
Cole stands, proud, all business, and starts moonwalking.
My brows lift in surprise. “Whoa, bud. That’s actually really good.”
He’s all grins now. “Told you. I’m a pro. Me and my friend watched YouTube videos and practiced for hours.
“Okay. Teach me,” Jordan says. “I’ve always wanted to be able to do it, and I suck.”
She stands next to Cole, and he starts showing her what to do with his feet.
Jordan tries, making Cole laugh—because she does suck.
“No. Watch me,” he says.
She tries again, and he bursts into a fit of laughter.
A burn builds behind my eyes, something like pride settling in my chest. Watching her with him—the two of them laughing, bonding—it does something to me.
I chuckle, and Jordan glances over at me.
“Matt! The pancakes,” Jordan calls, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Christ!”
I flip the first pancake.
It’s fucking black.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, turning off the burners. I huff out a breath, turn toward them, and clap my hands together once. “Get your shoes on. We’re going to breakfast!”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
MATT
Jensen’s textcomes through as I’m walking into my building in New York.
Jensen
Did you see that kickoff?
Damn.
I type back as I walk.
No. I didn’t make it. Almost to my elevator.
I tap my key fob against the panel.
Jensen
Are you planning to watch the game with your wife?
I chuckle as I step inside, the doors sliding shut behind me.
Doubt I’ll see any of it with all the fucking we’ll be doing.
