Page 78 of The Playboy's Playbook

A tiny bark cuts him off and I smile to myself, my back still to him. “She’s in trouble for using the bathroom inside and refusing to lay down for a nap today.”

Matthew chuckles as he walks over to Nola’s kennel. “Ah, come on, Nola. You have to be a good girl for your mom. Now, I can’t get you.”

Nola whines and continues to bark at Matthew, begging him to release her from her kennel.

“You can let her out,” I concede. “But as soon as we start eating, you’re going right back in, missy.”

Matthew swiftly unlatches the door and moves to pick her up, not like he has to do much because Nola practically jumps into his arms and begins attacking his face with kisses.

Matthew’s deep laugh fills the room and for a moment, I forget that we’re not a couple anymore. Everything about right now feels normal, like we didn’t skip a beat.

“You can spend some time with her. I’ll make your plate.” I begin moving around the kitchen, piling food onto both of our plates while Matthew plays with Nola in the living room.

I can’t remember the last time Nola wasn’t concerned with what was happening in the kitchen. It doesn’t matter if I’m cooking or my mom is, if there’s more than one person around, Nola is going between the two rooms to see what’s going on.

But not with Matthew.

With Matthew, all Nola cares about is him.

“Dinner’s ready when you are,” I call out from the dining room.

“I’ll come get you when your mom and I are done.” Matthew places Nola in her kennel and latches the door in place before joining me in the dining room. I cut on some music for background noise to fill the silence before sitting down at the table.

Matthew and I are sitting across from each other at the dinner table, neither of us moving. Suddenly, all of the bad memories I tried all year to suppress come rushing back. I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear and begin cutting up the baked chicken. Matthew immediately digs into his plate.

“How is it?” I ask.

He smiles softly. “Delicious. You really outdid yourself, baby.”

I smile and turn my attention back to my own plate. “I’m glad you like it.”

We continue to eat in silence for a few more minutes, the soft sounds of Luke Combs and our forks scraping against our plates filling the air. We finish off the last bits of our food when Matthew finally breaks the silence.

“So, how has work been? And school. How has work and school been?” he asks.

“Both have been good. I’ll finish school this November, which is great because after the holidays, work really starts to pick up,” I answer, moving to get our empty plates and carry them into the kitchen to wash them. Matthew stands and takes the plates from my hands and begins washing them instead.

“You don’t have to –”

“I want to,” he says, his back to me as he begins scrubbing the plates before rinsing them off and placing them on the drying rack.

I go to get Nola from her kennel to take her outside, but once again, Matthew moves me out of the way and takes the lead.

“I can do that, Matthew.”

“I know you can, but I want to,” he says, his eyes blazing into mine.

I sigh and sit on my couch as Matthew takes Nola outside. Once they come back in, Matthew picks Nola up and joins me on the couch, stretching his arm over the back of the couch.

I want to scoot closer to him, but I choose to remain in my spot. Nola doesn’t quite pick up the hint that I need to keep this distance between us and begins pawing at me, trying to get me to move closer.

Traitor.

“Uh,” Matthew starts, nervously. “I think she wants you.”

“No, she wants us to sit closer and hold her together.” Like we used to do.

“Oh,” Matthew says, his ears turning pink. “You don’t have to move closer if you don’t want to.”

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