Page 50 of Sawyer

We lock eyes.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

A beat of charged silence stretches between us while Ella examines the little butterflies on the underwear.

We really should get going. By the time I get Ella cleaned up and we drive home, she’ll be ready for bath time, and then it’s early to bed. Ella’s had a full day.

Just another epic Saturday night in the Rivers’ household.

Goddamn, I wish I had real plans. Or any plans, really. Ones preferably that involved Ava.

Should I ask her out? Ask for her number at least? I don’t want to scare her off. But I also don’t want to snub the universe after it dropped this incredible woman in my lap not once, but twice now.

Heartbeat throbbing in my ears, I pick up my daughter. “So, Ava, now that you know I’m really not a serial killer, I’d love to get your n?—”

“Daddy.” Ella starts to cry. “My bottom hurts, so very bad.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s like this kid knowsjustwhen to lose her shit, right when I’m about to say—do—something important.

“All right, Boo,” I manage. “I think it’s time for us to go.”

Ava wipes her backside as she rises to her feet. “I totally get it. Great seeing you, Sawyer. And great meeting you, sweet girl.”

Ella, however, is anything but sweet. She starts howling, the kind of sobs that have people looking at us.

“Let’s run into each other again, yeah?” I say. “A playdate. How about that?”

“Yes!” Junie yells. “Please, Mommy, please pleasepleasecan we do a playdate? And a sleepover?”

Ava laughs. Am I imagining the flush in her cheeks at the mention of a sleepover? Wonder if her mind immediately went into the gutter the way mine has.

“We’d love to meet y’all for a playdate,” she replies.

“We’re wide open tomorrow.” I don’t think about the words, I just say them in the wild hope I get to see Ava twice in twenty-four hours. “Maybe meet at the park downtown?”

Ava blinks. “Well—tomorrow—yeah, okay. We could swing that. Ten o’clock?”

Holy shit, this is happening.She’s saying yes.

“Ten o’clock,” I say, my stomach swooping.

“Great.”

“Awesome.”

Ask for her number. Just do it.

Only I can’t, because Ella’s literally kicking and screaming now.

Lord save us.

“See ya then, Ava. Looking forward to it.”

She smiles. “I am too. I mean we—we’re, um,wecan’t wait.”

Holding on to my daughter as best as I can, I turn, grab the diaper bag, and stalk toward my truck that’s parked in a nearby field.

---