Page 62 of The Playboy's Playbook

“You know, ABCDEFH,” Jen says with even more confidence.

“You forgot G again, Jensen. It’s ABCDEFGH,” Clay jumps in. Jen pouts in his seat and mumbles the alphabet to himself, making sure to enunciate the letter G.

“Alright, Clay. Your turn. What did you learn today?” I ask, turning my attention to him. Clay shrugs his shoulders, like he always does.

“We did group reading and played at the indoor playground. Nothing too exciting,” Clay says.

“What? The indoor playground is very exciting!” I say, trying to liven up the car. Jen perks up at the mention of the playground.

“Can we go to the playground before we go home, Uncle Matty?” Jen asks.

“Do you boys have any homework?” I ask. They get silent and I look at them in the rearview mirror. They both cut their eyes to each other and look down in shame.

Luke has a strict rule about them doing their homework as soon as they get home before they have any free time to play. Too bad Luke isn’t here right now.

“If you promise not to tell your dad, I’ll take you to the park for an hour. Only one hour though,” I say, sternly. Clay and Jen perk up and nod their heads vehemently.

“We promise!”

I smile and turn off the interstate to exit to their neighborhood. I park my truck at Luke’s house and help the boys out. I make sure they put their things in their room and we walk to the neighborhood playground.

As soon as the playground comes into view, I’m taken back to when Laila and I would go to the park with Nola. I haven’t been back to a park since we split, so the memories hit me all at once.

As soon as we step foot into the wood-chipped area, the boys immediately take off toward the swingset while I sit on the bench in the corner under the shade.

I watch Clay help Jen onto the swing and instruct him on how to push himself before he starts swinging next to him. I can’t help the smile that’s plastered itself on my face. Clay takes his role as big brother seriously and loves to teach Jen new things.

A tiny bark pulls me from my thoughts and I spring to action to get to the boys before the dog does. Who the hell just lets their dog loose in a park, especially where children frequent?

I rush over to the boys, but they jump off the swing set and run toward the dog.

“Clay! Jen!” I shout, sprinting after them. When I finally catch up to them, I see that the dog they ran to is all too familiar. It’s hard to miss the floppy ears, and brown and white shiny coat of fur.

“Nola?” I say out loud, furrowing my brows.

As soon as she hears my voice, she sprints toward me as fast as her tiny legs will carry her. I bend down and pick her up and she immediately attacks my face with kisses.

“If Nola’s here…” Jen begins.

“Then Auntie Lala is here, too!” Clay finishes and they turn and sprint off.

“Boys, wait!” I cradle Nola closer to me as I chase after the boys. “We don’t know if she’s here! Nola could be lost!”

The boys stop once they reach the entrance to the dog park and I look up to see what they’re staring at.

Laila.

She’s frantically looking around the dog park and calling for Nola. Nola scrambles to get out of my arms and I set her down. The minute her paws hit the ground, she takes off toward Laila. Clay and Jen run behind her shouting out for her. “Auntie Lala!”

Laila turns quickly and she smiles with relief when she sees Nola. When she notices the boys running toward her, she bends down and stretches her arms out. The boys immediately run into her embrace and I can see her shoulders relax as she holds them close to her.

She envelopes them in a tight hug, mumbling to them, while Nola runs in circles around them. She pulls back and studies them, confusion on her face. Laila looks around, more than likely searching for Luke.

Her eyes finally land on me as I slowly walk over to her. She stands to her full height and I take in her appearance and notice that her pictures haven’t done her justice.

I thought I memorized her beauty before, but over the course of a year, she’s changed so much. Her hair is shorter and fans around her face in big, loose curls. She has highlights, the blond streaks brightening her dark hair. Her skin looks silky as ever and I want more than anything to run my hands over her body.

“You cut your hair,” I say, breathlessly. I immediately facepalm because of all the things I could say to her at our first meeting in a year, I had to say that.

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