Page 87 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

But if he doesn’t, I’ll get over it. I have to. Because I’m not settling. I’m not compromising on things I want more than anything.

Even for the man I love.

25

emmett

“Uncle Met!”

I kneel down as my nephew comes running into my arms. “Hey, buddy.”

Jack plows into my body and wraps his tiny three-year-old arms around my neck, squeezing me as hard as he can. Winnie starts jumping next to me, clearly wanting in on the moment. And I hug him back. I squeeze his little body, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I relax.

This is exactly what I needed. I’ve been in a funk ever since Stella came to my house last week. I ended up texting Maddie and canceling our plans. Hell, I’ve barely left my house except for absolutely necessary site visits. I made a horrible excuse to get out of going to Rolling Hills this week. I thought a few days away would make me feel better, but it hasn’t. Now I’m behind at work, and I feel like a fucking schmuck.

I need to suck it up. I need to get over these feelings and get back to normal. That’s what I’ve been telling myself for days now. That I’m a grown man and I should be able to turn the switch off. Or at least, stick to a strategy.

Desensitizing is going to take forever to work, if it even does. Being a dick just made me feel like, well, a dick. Avoidance hasbeen my strategy recently, but that’s failing on multiple levels. Plus, she doesn’t deserve my cold shoulder. I’m the one in the wrong. I got too close when I had no business doing so. And I’m taking it out on her. I don’t want to quit my job, but that might be safer for my sanity than seeing her every day.

Because if I see her every day it might drive me mad. I’m starting to think there’s no getting over Stella Banks.

“How’s my favorite kiddo?” I ask Jack as Winnie continues to run around us.

“Good,” he says. “I brought a ball!”

“That’s fun,” I say as he shows me the foam football he’s holding. “Where did you get that?”

“Brock,” he says, like I’m supposed to know. Before I can ask any more questions, Jack throws the football, well, as far as he can, and Winnie promptly goes to chase it. The two start playing as Maddie walks up, taking a seat with me on the bench at the dog park.

“Who’s Brock?” I ask.

“My neighbor,” she says. “Or as Jack likes to say, his new best friend.”

“Does this new best friend have a last name?” I ask. Because if there’s a man living next to my sister, who is giving my nephew toys, I need to check this guy out.

She lets out a sigh before answering. “Napier.”

Did she just say…”Brock Napier? As in pro football player for the Nashville Fury Brock Napier?”

“The one and only,” she says. “But before you go all big brother on me, we’re just friends. Jack thinks he’s cool and likes his cats. That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Cross my heart,” she says, making the same motion. “Believe me, I doubt a pro football player is just jonesing to get with the single mom next door.”

“Why not?” I ask. “He’d be fucking lucky.”

Now it’s her turn to give me the raised eyebrow look.

“What?”

“It’s just funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“That just the mention of a guy on my radar—who’s not even on my radar—and you quickly say how lucky he’d be to have me. Yet, when I say the same thing but about you, that any woman would be lucky to call you theirs, I’m met with a look meant to terrify. Oh! Like that one! That look right there..”

I don’t know at what age I stopped being able to rattle Maddie. I think it was when she was two.

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