Page 29 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
Mia nods immediately. “She’s nice.”
Nico grins. “I like her. I want to play with her again.”
Something tightens in my chest.
I glance at Mia who nods.
I rub the back of my neck. The logical part of me - the part that needs to find a nanny and move on - knows that reaching out to Whitney might be an option. A good one.
The thought lingers, settling somewhere in my ribs, heavy and restless.
Would it really be so bad to ask her to help out for a while?
A temporary arrangement - just until I figure things out. Just until I hire someone.
But even as I try to frame it as something logical, as something purely for the kids, another part of me - the part I don’t want to acknowledge - knows better.
Maybe it’s because it’s not just about Nico and Mia.
It’s about me.
About how I never really stopped feeling the way I did back then. About how I still carry the guilt of everything that happened between us. About how being around her again stirs up things I buried a long time ago.
I run a hand down my face.
I should let it go. I should hire a nanny and move on.
But as I watch my kids race back into the yard, laughing, their words still echoing in my head, I know it’s too late.
I’m already considering it.
And that…, that might be a problem.
Chapter seven
Whitney
The wind rushes past me, cool but gentle, threading through my hair, lifting a few strands before letting them fall. I don’t move to tuck them away. Instead, I stand still, arms loosely wrapped around myself, staring out at the golden horizon where the sky kisses the sea.
I exhale, slow and deep, the air crisp but laced with something softer—the scent of salt and blooming jasmine, of earth warmed by the sun. The wind isn’t harsh, not like winter’s bite. It carries warmth now, a quiet promise of renewal, but I feel none of it. My arm tightens around myself as if I can hold everything in—every thought, every emotion threatening to spill over.
There is something about being here on these cliffs that makes me feel small. Like I could disappear into the wind, into the waves, into the endless stretch of horizon where sky and water blur together. Maybe I wouldn’t mind that. Maybe I’d welcome it.
The trees behind me sway in the breeze, their leaves rustling like they are trying to tell me something I am too deaf to hear. Agull cries in the distance, and I close my eyes for a second, letting the cool air sting my skin, willing my mind to go blank.
I don’t feel like going back. Yet.
Maybe if I stand here long enough, I will feel lighter. Maybe the weight pressing against my ribs will finally ease.
“Whitney.”
The voice is faint, carried by the wind, so distant I almost think I imagined it.
This time, it’s closer.
“Whitney.”
I blink, pull from my thoughts, and turn toward the voice.
