Page 9 of Delay of Game
I walked away from the Grant household with a bottle of wine, a bag full of leftovers, and some pretty mixed feelings about the evening.
The district didn't exactly have a policy about hanging out with students’ families. Hell, ten years ago, they couldn't have even enforced it with the small size of the community.
And it's not like I'd gotten lit at dinner. I'd enjoyed two small glasses of wine, the first home-cooked meal I'd had in ages, and a great view.
Okay, lusting over my newest student's father probably wasn't allowed by the district. And after my recent break up, I should be focused on figuring out why I dated emotionally unavailable men, not on throwing myself at a guy with a questionable temperament and an unconfirmed marital status.
He wasn't wearing a ring, though.
I climbed into the car, thankful that, at the very least, I had an evening where I didn't cry. Much.
FOUR
ROB
Mila dozed on my leg,her body heavy and her fingers twitching against my chest. I closed the book in my hand, setting it on the side table and determining the best way to extract myself from her room.
I picked up her arm and slipped out of her grip. She fell into the space beside me, sighing lightly and burrowing into my thigh. I braced myself against the opposite side of the bed and stood up in a one smooth motion to minimize jostling the bed. Thankfully, Mila slept through the upheaval, only reaching out for me once I was standing. I slipped a doll under her arm, and she curled around it, eyes closed.
Once I’d turned off the light and checked the alarm clock, I tiptoed out of the room and walked downstairs to find a still empty house. A quick glance out the kitchen window confirmed the studio was in use, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the awkward introduction, Mom and Mila had beamed through dinner, happy for the company. And now, with Mom occupied and Mila asleep, I had nothing stopping me from heading downstairs and enjoying some well-deserved quiet time.
I opened the door to the basement as Mom came back in.
“I figured you’d be out there for a while longer,” I said, only slightly disappointed.
I hadn’t intended to live with my mom forever, but after Mila was born, I didn’t have much of a choice. My schedule as a single father and NFL player conflicted enough to require extra help. I didn’t trust anyone except my mom with Mila. And over the years, we settled into an easy enough routine, vacating to our respective ends of the house in the evenings.
“She’s a real natural on the wheel.” Mom’s eyes gleamed, and she glanced back at the driveway excitedly. “And so cute. Isn’t she cute?”
Cute wasn’t the first word I would have used to describe her. After seven years, I didn’t exactly have a type, but Ms. Evans might have been it once upon a time. Friendly girl-next-door face and curves that could drive a guy insane. I’d tried not to let her low-cut sundress distract me from across the table by reminding myself that she was Mila’s teacher, barely out of school herself.
“Adorable,” I said, feigning a lack of interest and invoking the word I used to describe Mila on a near-daily basis.
Mom frowned, her brow furrowing. “I wouldn’t say that. Beautiful and so personable. Mila really took to her.”
“Mila takes to everyone,” I grumbled under my breath as I pushed back a swell of sadness. “She’s desperate for another person to play tea party with.”
With a waved hand, Mom scoffed. “She hasn’t played tea party in ages. It’s all about playing family now.”
“I wish you wouldn’t encourage that,” I said as Mom shut the front door.
“Encourage her imagination? Don’t be ridiculous, Rob.” Mom scuttled past me, beelining for the kitchen, and I abandoned the lure of a night playing video games to follow her.“You can’t dictate what she likes and what she doesn’t. Right now, it’s family, which is normal.”
“She wants to be a big sister,” I said, opening the cabinet and pulling out two boxes of tea. “Which is not happening.”
“It could happen,” Mom said with the same ease as if telling me it might rain tomorrow.
“Never happening,” I said with finality. “Ever. And I’m glad you made a new friend, but I’m not interested.”
Mom’s gray hair bobbled. “Maybe you’re a little interested.”
“I’m interested in meeting her again for parent-teacher conferences and not much more.”
"Well, she's coming back to trim her pieces." She pulled two mugs from the cabinet.
"Great. Have fun with that."
"I'll probably invite her to dinner again."
