Page 48 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“Crappy morning,” I confirm.
“Coffee?”
“You’re speaking my language. Yes, please.”
He smiles. “Drug of choice coming up.”
Uno is lying in his customary spot on his daybed. The moment Gideon leaves he tilts his head quizzically at me. I stare back at him. I’m not talking to a dog. Gideon, however, is taking his sweet time preparing my coffee and Uno’s brown eyes are becoming more reproachful by the second.
I can’t take it anymore. “Hello, Dog,” I say at last. Anything to obliterate that downcast expression. I clear my throat. “Thank you for letting Lisset read to you.” Her teacher said that with some gentle encouragement from Gideon, Lisset managed to read one page. It’s not much, but at least it’s a start.
Uno’s ears prick and his tail wags, then he rests his head on his paws, content.
“Picked up some of your Daddy’s tricks, huh?” I whisper.
Gideon returns with a steaming latte and a smile he should have no reason to wear.
Letting out a sigh, I wrap my hands around the mug and take a grateful sip. “Mmm, thank you.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Not really.”
“Want to talk about it?”
I kick off my shoes and fold my legs underneath me. I take another sip of my coffee, feeling the throbbing in my head ease. “It’s just...I dropped Lisset off at school and I couldn’t help thinking how fast she’s growing. And then I’m wondering whether I’m doing a good enough job with her. It feels as though I’m constantly second-guessing my decisions.”
When I realize I’m rambling, I wave a hand in the air, as though to wave away the last minute. “Sorry for going on and on. I don’t want to bore you.”
What single guy wants to hear about parenting issues? I might as well be talking about dental insurance. And then I think,wait a minute, this is my child. If I can’t talk freely about her with Gideon, then he’s not a person I want in my life. But hold on, what am I saying? Do I want Gideon in my life?
I close my eyes. Sometimes, the emotional mayhem in my head is too much, even for me.
“Hey, look at me,” he coaxes. “Kate, c’mon.”
I open my eyes and turn to stare at him. His brow is furrowed, like he’s not pleased with what I said. “Why would I be bored?”
“Most guys don’t want to hear about parenting stuff.”
My ex-husband wasn’t interested in the day-to-day details of Lisset’s life and he was herfather.
“I’m not most guys,” Gideon says in an even voice. “I like Lisset. I likeyou, Kate.”
My pulse speeds up at the emphasis. I feel that fatal tug on my heart. My stupid, stupid heart that clearly hasn’t learned its lesson. One burning wasn’t enough, it seems. Now its amnesiac chambers are vibrating with excitement, clashing with my mind, which hasn’t forgotten what happened the last time I fell for a man.
“Lisset is important to you,” he continues. “I’m not bored when I listen to you talk about what’s important to you. I imagine it’s incredibly difficult not having a partner to share parenting responsibilities with.”
I chew my lip. “Some days it feels like it takes all my energy just to keep her alive.”
“My mom was a single mother,” Gideon admits, surprising me. Another tendril of connection coiling around the two of us. “I saw how tough it was for her and I’m guessing she shielded me from the worst of it. She often said being a single parent was like juggling flaming torches.”
“That’s an apt description.” I breathe in a lungful of crisp air. It’s not lost on me how easy it is to talk to him when it’s not been easy for me to talk to anyone for so long. “Are you close to your mom?”
“I was. She died three years ago. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I still miss her.” He blinks and gulps down the last of his coffee as he tries to rein in his emotions. The urge to move closer and comfort him rushes through me. I tighten my grip on my mug.
