Page 39 of The Overtime Kiss

“Oh hush,” he says, then turns to Tyler. “One, I’d love to see a game, and not just for the warmups. Two, I’m all about tit for tat, so if you ever want to catch an ice performance, we’ve got friends who are doingIce Spectaclein New York later this fall.”

That’s one of the top ice productions in the world, blending an incredible light display with elite performances. “It’s supposed to be amazing,” I say, seconding Trevyn, but isIce Spectacleeven Tyler’s scene? “I doubt Tyler wants to see an ice-skating event though.”

“I would,” Tyler says immediately, owning it.

“Really?” I ask.

“Of course,” he says. “I lo?—”

Sounds like he’s about to sayI lovesomething…skating?

But then he stops, nodding to Trevyn. “What’s your number? I’ll get you Sea Dogs tickets, no problem.”

My heart gets a little glowy as Tyler trades numbers with my friend simply to give him tickets. When we first arrived, I swear there was a hint of…peacocking in Tyler, a bit of let-me-show-you-how-strong-I-am. I honestly didn’t mind watching him carry all my things. It’s nice to see the change though.

When they’re done, Trevyn waggles his phone. “And the offer stands. If you’re ever in New York…”

“Thanks. I will,” Tyler says.

“My chariot awaits.” Trevyn flashes his winning grin, then coils up the end of Barbara-dor’s leash. “Be a good girl and say goodbye to our friends,” he says to the dog, who lifts her paw like she’s waving.

Then he sails off, calling out, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” as he heads toward the door.

I’m not sure if the warning is for Tyler or me. But I blush anyway, then point toward Trevyn’s exiting frame. “He doesn’t believe in filters.”

Tyler smirks and says nothing at first—just lets the smile spread. “Something you have in common?”

“Mean,” I tease, then wag a finger. “Also, you promised.”

“I did. And the clock starts,” he says, looking to a brushed silver clock on the wall that looks a little vintage, then back to me and says, “now.”

I step into the kitchen, miming zipping my lips. “The filter is on,” I say, then nod to the pantry. “Are you trying to figure out what to make for dinner?”

He scratches his jaw. “Yeah. I’ll be home in time, but I just wanted to see if I needed to go to the store. We usually shop at Natural Foods,” he says. That market mostly carries organic foods, and it’s an inexpensive alternative to some of the bougier grocery stores. I kind of love that he goes there when he doesn’t have to worry about the prices. But instead, he chooses to shop where other people do.

“Why don’t I go?” I offer, since I want to go above and beyond for this new job. Show him I can be a great nanny. “Do you want to give me a list?”

“Yeah?” He sounds enchanted.

“Isn’t that part of the job?” I ask lightly, not because I’m confused but possibly to remind him. His mom did tell me as much when she offered me the post. “Agatha did some of the food shopping, right?”

He blinks, then drags a hand through his hair. “Right. Yeah. She did.”

“She worked for you for a while, right?”

“A couple years in Los Angeles, then here.”

“She was part of the family?”

He pauses, as if he’s considering. “In some ways, I suppose so.” He blows out a breath, like he’s recentering himself. “Anyway, I’m just getting used to this—this change.”

I relax a little bit. This conversation feels awkward but normal-awkward, like it should be this way as we adjust to each other in the house and on the job.

“Me too. But let me tell you something—I know my way around a grocery store.” I snap my fingers for emphasis but don’t add that my mother trained me to take my time in every aisle, reading every calorie list out loud to see if she’d allow herself to eat it. I understood her urge to track everything—mine manifested differently.

“I can send you a grocery list,” he says, sounding more confident now.

“Perfect,” I say. But since I don’t know his preferences, I figure I should ask. I want to do a good job after all—get the right foods for him. “Now, tell me something—what do you like to eat? Do you want only organic? Do you avoid ultra-processed food? Do you need gluten-free? Dairy-free? Are you all about free-range eggs and so on? Give me the details,” I say, eager to learn every single thing.

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