Page 87 of Special Delivery

“Do you want to spend next weekend with me?” My gaze drops, and I feel stupid.

Why is it so hard to put myself out there? Well, I know why, but he just told me he likes spending time with me. Why does it feel ridiculous to ask for exactly that?

Once I finally look up at him, I notice his mouth dropping. “Sorry, I already have plans. Maybe the weekend after?”

I clear my throat. “The wedding’s then.” I plaster on a smile to hide my disappointment.

Once again, my feelings are stupid. Irrational. But it took guts to ask him, and it hurts to be shut down. I also don’t like the fact that he hasn’t told me why he can’t see me this weekend, yet I hardly have a right to ask. It reminds me of all the instances when Bradley smoothly avoided answering my questions, and I hadn’t even noticed it.

“That’s right. Whew, that came super fast. How was wedding dress shopping?”

I tell him all about it, while keeping the details of the dress she chose vague, but the butterflies in my stomach are a little less enthusiastic. Just a little more apprehensive.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Ryan

Over the next week, Paige and I see each other almost every day. I come by after my shift. We joke around, do some gardening in her backyard, have sex, and eat dinner together. I wanted to take her on an actual date, but Chrissy is spending the weekend with me, making it harder.

It was weird not telling Paige exactly what I’m doing, but all of us are so protective of Chrissy, it’s a force of habit. My first thought was what if she wanted to meet her? The idea didn’t fill me with panic as it probably should have, but it’s not my decision to make, it’s Parker’s. I can’t break his trust by letting his kid meet people he doesn’t know, even if I’m entranced by them.

“Have fun.” I mock-salute Parker after taking Chrissy’s sleepover bag and popping it into my trunk.

“Oh, you know I will.” He winks. From what he told me after padel, he’s going to San Francisco for the weekend. Knowing him, the little field trip will involve at least two women, not necessarily at separate times.

“We’ll have fun too!” Chrissy exclaims.

She’s the smartest, funniest eight-year-old girl, and spending time with her was one thing I missed dearly while I was living in the city. She sits in the back, making sure to fasten her seatbelt.

Her bangs are getting too long for her face, so she shakes her head to move them out of her eyes. Her honey-blond hair reminds me of the mom she never got to meet. She was one of Parker’s one-night stands, but instead of disappearing forever, she returned nine months later, freshly post-partum, carrying baby Chrissy in her arms.

Except she didn’t even name her. Parker did that. She told him she hadn’t planned on being a mom and left him with a newborn, a diaper bag, and a panic attack. Wes and I both rushed as soon as he called. We were angry and suspicious, but Parker refused any suggestion of doing a DNA test. He was shocked and afraid, but from the first second he saw her, he knew he’d take care of her forever.

Within two hours, us and his family all banded together and set up the nursery. Just like that, Chrissy became a part of his, and by extension, my family.

“What are we doing this weekend, Uncle Ryan?” she asks from the back seat.

“Have some faith, will you? Today we’ll go to the park, but tomorrow I have a surprise for you.”

“Really?” In the rearview mirror, I see her green eyes widening.

I let out a chuckle. “Yes, really.”

After a full day at the park, we eat the dinner Mom graciously made for us and settle into the basement. I’m not much of a gamer, but I got a PlayStation for my weekends with Chrissy. She’s obsessed with Minecraft, so we boot up two joysticks and start building a new house.

My phone pings with a text, and I drop the joystick on the couch to see who it is. My mouth forms a grin when I notice it’s a photo from Paige.

“Missed a spot,” the text says, and the photo shows a small pile of weeds she obviously pulled from the flower bed, sitting in the middle of the lawn I mowed the other day.

Me

I guess you’ll have to hire me again.

“Is that a girl?” A small, feminine voice makes me jolt in my seat. Somehow, I hadn’t noticed Chrissy sticking her nose right into my business.

“Sort of.”

She scrunches her nose. “What do you mean, sort of?”