Page 45 of Hungry Hearts

Shit. Damn. Okay. As far as I know, I’ve never been with a woman who has kids. I think I do alright with them. My experience is limited to the few times I go back to Ohio and hang out with Nolan’s niece and nephew. I guess I’ll get some more experience when Nora spits out her baby this winter.

“It’s not something you bring up on a first date, especially when your first date isn’t the first time you’ve been out with a man.” The line between her brow goes away and a soft smile forms on her lips. “She’s my entire world. My top priority. All the decisions I make in my life are centered around her and how they’ll impact her.”

Damn. I need to date this woman. I need to do all the things with this woman. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“That night at Red, if you told me you were still mourning your husband and that you have a kid at home? Yeah, I would have cursed the gods for dropping the most beautiful, unattainable angel at my bar.”

“Unattainable?”

“Maia. I get it. You’re not ready to do this. To be with me.” I take her hands in mine, no less shocked at my maturity than she is. “I’m not angry with you anymore. I’m still wrapping my head around all of this, but I understand why you didn’t tell me about your husband and daughter. I’m not exactly relationship and stepdad material.”

Fuck. Did I just say that?

Damn. As breakups go, this one hurts. I’ve never been on the receiving end, and it’s been more than a dozen years since I’ve been with anyone that semi-counted as a relationship.

“Ryder.” She squeezes my hand. “If you don’t hate me too much, I’d like to keep seeing you. I’m not ready to introduce you to Ruby, but...I like being with you. You make me laugh, something I don’t do a lot of lately. You make me feel alive. When I’m with you, the weight of my responsibilities feels lighter.”

“Ruby, huh?” I say instead of responding to the other stuff. “Is there a meaning behind her name?”

“It was my grandmother’s. Adam and I were close to her and had picked out our kids’ names before we were even married.”

I can’t be mad at her for mentioning her husband’s name, but it’s going to take some time for me to get used to it without being jealous. They had decades together and I haven’t even had a month.

“How old is she?”

A smile so bright lights up Maia’s face. “She’s five, almost six, and started kindergarten a few weeks ago.”

Five. She probably had no memory of her father. I can’t imagine Maia struggling through mourning her husband and raising a child. Now I feel like an asshole for treating her like I did.

“Do you have pictures of her on your phone?”

Maia chuckles. “That’s all I have on my phone. Do you...do you want to see them?”

She’s hesitant, and rightfully so. I can spew out hundreds of inappropriate jokes and innuendos, but talking to a five-year-old girl? What do you even talk about?

Even when I visit home with Nolan, his six-year-old niece Katie is so obsessed with her uncle that she turns into a jealous spaz if his attention is off her for a second. Theo’s the bomb and just turned four. I’m better with boy kids than girl kids, so hangin’ with him and playing LEGOs is more my style than whatever Katie is into.

“Show me your girl, Maia.”

She takes out her phone and scoots closer to me, flipping through hundreds of pictures. I sit quietly—again, another feat—and listen to her tell a story with each picture. From the turtle Ruby found on the side of the road, to the handstands she insisted Maia take pictures of over and over again, rating them on a one-to-ten scale, to the dozens of pictures of Ruby in different princess clothes.

“Playing dress up is her favorite. Right now, she’s in an Ariel phase. FromThe Little Mermaid.”

The little girl is adorable; with her mother’s hair and bright blue eyes that must be her father’s. From her poses in most of the pictures, I can see her personality. She’s not shy, not afraid to speak her mind. Maia referred to her as sassy pants in a series of pictures from Christmas time.

There are a few of them with Flynn, and my body tenses, but thankfully, they’re mostly in groups. Her family, I assume, even though she doesn’t mention who any of the adults are. Her focus is on Ruby. Her pride and joy.

“She’s really cute, Maia. And she looks happy. You’ve done a great job raising her.”

Apparently, that was the right thing to say. She lifts her face to mine, a fresh pool of tears in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I trace the pad of my thumb under her eye, catching a loose tear, then lower my mouth to hers. She leans into me, accepts the kiss, and wraps her arms around me. Damn, I’ve missed this woman. I pull her onto my lap so she’s straddling me and return my hands to her face. Now isn’t the time to strip her down naked and have my way with her, no matter how much my dick begs against the zipper of my fly.

Yesterday and today took a lot out of her emotionally. Hell, me too. I cup her face and take our kiss deeper, but she withdraws, sitting back on my knees. Worry and disappointment fill her eyes.

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