Page 45 of Detention with Daddies

Her features shift when I say this, and she nods. “You should forgive him. Mom is…hard to deal with when we’re prepared for her. You know?”

“I understand. I’m going to go talk to him now, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

I settle myself on the couch again, closer to Nick this time, and raise my brow at him. “Anything you want to add?”

His hand smooths over his face before his gaze connects with mine. “I’ll understand if you judge me for this. She makes me my worst self, but that’s no excuse for letting her treat you like that.”

I bite the edge of my lip. There is no excuse, but based on the small bits and pieces Ruby just told me, I get it.

“Is how she treated Ruby the reason you two got divorced?”

His brow wrinkles. “It certainly played a major role in it.”

Not one to hold a grudge—although I don’t forget things and I don’t forgive them easily—I’m willing to give him this one asa free pass. “I’d like for you to tell me more about those other reasons, but not now.”

“I can do that.” Nick’s posture straightens just a few inches, like I’ve lifted a small weight off of him. But his gaze focuses behind me, and he stands.

I stand with him and escort them both to my door. Grabbing hold of Ruby’s shoulders, I bend to look into her eyes. “Thank you for confiding in me.”

She dives in to hug me, and I give her a good squeeze. “Thank you for the cocoa. And the cheesecake.”

Her voice is muffled in my shoulder, but I tighten my hold until I feel her release me. Ruby goes straight to the Jeep, and Nick hesitates on my porch.

I touch his cheek, the connection between us zapping as it usually does. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

OLIVIA

Ivan has been messaging me on the game we both play all morning, begging for help with the girl he has a crush on. It’s her birthday on Monday, and he wants to give or do something for her.

My suggestion, as it always is, is to make her something.

Can you come help me? She loves cupcakes.

And your dad is okay with this?

Of course he is.

And you asked him?

Duh. Come over.

And he sends me his address.

Forgive me for not trusting a twelve-year-old, but I look up Matteo’s number on the card he gave me and shoot him off a quick text.

Your son has invited me over to help him bake. I hope he actually asked you, and that it’s okay.

I see it’s been read a couple minutes later, but I don’t get a response. Although that’s slightly concerning, he doesn’t sayno, and I do want to help Ivan out with the thoughtful and frankly sweet gesture.

And since I’m not worried about Ivan being a bad kid or misbehaving, I drive over with some staple ingredients.

Matteo’s house is bigger than I expected for the two of them. Clean, sharp, strictly masculine. Ivan’s mentioned being an only child. Has even made comments about how single his father is. He makes a good wingman, but I’m not making any moves based on his advice.

The thought makes me laugh to myself. I like Matteo, and he is damn good-looking. Smart. Thoughtful. But he’s mentioned inappropriate behavior from those who work in the center before, and I refuse to take his kindness as anything else.

Not that I would mind.

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