Page 19 of Rebound

“What are you up to?” I ask a few minutes later over the very delicious lunch that he brought. My eyes narrow at him while I wait for him to answer. “I’m not going to sleep with you if that’s what you’re after.” He would be the last man on earth I would allow to be my first lover.

He drops his fork and covers Jasmine’s ears. “That’s inappropriate talk in front of my child,” he admonishes.

My nostrils flare at his hypocrisy. “Really? This from the man who sleeps with anyone? And didn’t Jasmine’s nanny post a picture of herself in your bed? Next to you, I might add.” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Do you think I would get involved with my daughter’s nanny?” he counters. “No. And I fired her. We haven’t had a nanny since,” he says.

“So, you’ve gone through all the willing women in the city and now you’re checking me out?Me?” I point to myself before I lower my voice and whisper, “You must be out of your damn mind.”

I add more food to my plate, uncaring that I’m making a pig of myself in front of him. He’s the last man I would ever try to impress. I even take one of the fish nuggets that are still in the container. After taking a bite, I take three more nuggets and put them on my plate.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk about yourself a lot? Why do you need to center yourself around every conversation?”

“No one in the history of the world has ever told me that. Now, tell me what you’re up to because if it’s what I think, you’re wasting your time.”

“I’m not here because I want to sleep with you,” he says. I stare into his eyes, and I don’t fully trust him but decide that I don’t care. He can only sleep with me if I let him, and I know that will never happen.

“Whatever,” I say. “It will never happen, so I don’t care.”

“Wow,” he says. “You have a one-track mind. And you want to talk about me.” He shakes his head as if he’s not the only whore in the room.

“More!” Jasmine says, and Wakowski gives her more nuggets and rice. I decide I’m going to ignore him and eat, so I do. I fill up on the delicious food, uncaring that he cooked it. I don’t plan on telling him how good it is either.

“Did you bring dessert?” I ask after shoving another fish nugget in my mouth. “And not fruit,” I add.

“We can go get some,” he says. My eyes narrow again. He’s definitely up to something and I don’t like it. “What?” he asks.

“No,” is all I say.

“Why not?”

“Because whatever this is,” I say gesturing between him and me, “I don’t trust it.”

Just as the words leave my mouth, Jasmine throws a piece of zucchini at Seth’s head. She puts her hands to her face and says, “Oh oh.” She laughs uncontrollably, and in that moment, she reminds me so much of her father. Not just in how she looks but from her actions. I laugh too, which causes her to throwanother piece at him, and it hits him right in the middle of his forehead.

“No throwing, Jazzy Girl,” he admonishes softly. “That’s not nice.”

Jasmine giggles and picks up another piece of zucchini, but Seth takes it from her before she can throw it at him. Seth must decide lunch is over because he gets up and washes her hands. He picks up her diaper bag and takes her to the bathroom.

While they’re gone, I clear the table and load the dishwasher. I cover his Tupperware dishes and stack them on top of each other. He comes out, and I expect him to take his things and leave, but he doesn’t. He plops himself on the couch and puts Jasmine on his chest.

I open my mouth to ask him what he’s doing, but my computer alerts me of a direct message, and my rebuke dies on my tongue. I sit at the makeshift office I made in the corner of the living room and reply to the message. I forget all about Wakowski while I answer emails. It’s not until I feel him standing behind me that I remember he’s still here.

He’s leaning down and staring at my computer screen.

“So, what is it that you do?” he asks.

“I work for the director of hotel finance. I’m on his support staff. I do whatever he asks, which is usually the stuff he doesn’t want to do.”

“What the hell does any of that mean?” he asks.

“Ugh. Don’t worry about it.”

“How much do you get paid to do this? It seems boring.” I whip my head around to look at him, and my face bumps with his. I move quickly, but I never expected his skin to be sosmooth.

“It’s rude to ask someone how much they make.” I turn back to my screen, but he smells so good that I don’t remember what the hell I’m supposed to be doing.

“You know how much I make,” he says with a shrug. “Well, you know how much I make playing basketball. You have no idea what I make from endorsement deals.”

---