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She waves me off. “Please, it’s no problem. At all. I love hanging out with Khalil. He’s my little partner.” Ruffling his curls with one hand, she holds up her other hand. “See you later.”
Khalil smacks her palm with his. “Bye! See you later, Aunt Patrice!”
Chuckling, I lead him down the hallway and out of the building.
“I’m gonna grow up and be you, Daddy! I’ma beat you in hockey!”
He goes on and on, swinging the stick until we reach the parking lot and I load him into his booster seat. Even as I climb into the front seat and drive off, he’s still bragging about how he’s going to be a hockey player when he’s older and be better than me. I would wonder where he gets that cocky-ass attitude from but then I remember. Right. Me.
“... said you had a girlfriend. I told him uh-uh. Mommy’s in heaven. But he said his mommy saw you kiss your girlfriend. You have a girlfriend, Daddy?”
I jerk my attention from the road to the rearview mirror. Khalil plays with the tablet we keep in the car to occupy him, not even looking up at me as he asks the question that sends a fissure racing across my heart.
Clearing my throat, I take a moment to figure out what to say. I’ve never lied to my son, and I’m not about to start now. But how to explain that, no, the woman whom everyone and their mama—literally—saw me mouth-fuck wasn’t my girlfriend? Even though he’d only ever seen me kiss his mother.
“No, li’l man, I don’t have a girlfriend, not like how Mommy and Daddy are.”Were.Shit. “Just a friend who’s a girl.” I silently cringe at that clichéd, lame-ass excuse.
“Oh. Y’mean like Candice tries to kiss me? I always run from her. I’on like her, though.” Who the fuck is Candice? And why she trying to push up on my son? Also, I need to check her parents about their fast-ass daughter next time I go up to that school. “You like your girlfriend?”
“Friend, Khalil. She’s a friend,” I stress. But another glance in the mirror reveals he’s still engrossed in the game he’s playing on the tablet. “And sure, I like her.” At least my dick does. “She’s a firewoman too.”
“No way.”NowI get his attention. “For real, Daddy? A real fireman?”
“Yeah, for real. And firewoman.” Orperson. Shit, what is the correct term?
“Wow,” he crows, his excitement obvious in the pitch of his voice. Any higher and we might have dogs start following us. “Cool! Can we go see her? Can we, Daddy?”
“Khalil—”
“Please? Please, Daddy?”
“Khalil, she’s busy fighting fires. Maybe another time—”
“Can you call her?”
Shit.
I love that he’s smart, but damn, it’s inconvenient as hell at times. And right now is one of those times. I could just tell him no. Hell, I’m the parent, and putting my foot down is part of that job description. But denying him would be more about me than him. Especially since every time he sees a fire truck or hears a siren, his face is pressed to the window in excitement, watching it zoom past.
I sigh, glancing in the mirror once more, and this time catching my son’s wide eyes and big grin in the reflection. Okay, so what’s the harm in just dropping by the firehouse? If Adina isn’t there, maybe I can introduce Khalil to her coworkers. Aside from that kiss, there isn’t anything between us. I’ve made that abundantly clear, and she seems to agree. So there’s no reason for me to be running scared and avoiding her. Inconvenient lust wasn’t a good enough reason ...
Shit. I’ve gotten really adept at lying to myself.
“Daddy, can you?” Khalil pleads.
“Yeah, li’l man. I’ll call her and ask if we can come by.”
Even as I stop at a red light and pull out my phone, I clench my jaw.
This isn’t going to end well.
Chapter Eight
ADINA
Goddamn, this isn’t going to end well.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I squeeze my eyes shut for a long moment, inhaling a deep breath and holding it for five seconds before releasing it just as slowly, like exhaling through a straw. Grounding exercises, my counselor called them. Followed by isolating the five senses. Focusing on the here and now so I don’t dive into an emotional tailspin about the immediate future.
