Page 40 of Hopeless Romantic
“Actually, yes.” He laughed. “But not how you’re thinking. It was a mom and her two sons. Vikki, Jaden, and Cole.” He cleared his throat and glanced briefly away.
“How long were you with them?” she asked, because a guy like Levi was all or nothing. If he was dating a single mom, he’d view it as dating her whole family.
“We were together three years. Two of those sharing a house. She trusted me with her kids, so I took that to mean she trusted me with her heart. Turned out, I was only half right.”
Three years was a long time to love two kids, only to lose them. She’d worked with enough grieving families at the pediatric hospital to understand that kind of loss went bone-deep, tunneling through until it reached the soul. With time, those holes healed, but the person was never the same.
“What happened?”
He looked at her, his eyes guarded, his tone careful. “I made it too easy.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I know, crazy. But that’s what she said.” He sat back and gave a humorous laugh. “I guess in her mind, when someone doesn’t have to work for things, they become unimportant. I became unimportant. So she found someone who made her work every day for a spot in his life.”
“Are you kidding?” She gasped. “That, right there, is why I don’t date. Life’s already hard. Why would she want someone to make it harder?”
“It’s a mind fuck, that’s for sure.” He lifted a big shoulder and let it drop, that easygoing twinkle in his eyes. But beneath it, she could sense a longing and a loneliness, which resonated deep within her. He was playing it cool, but the loss still clung to him like barnacles to an unmanned vessel, increasing surface drag and hindering momentum.
“Do you miss them?” she asked.
“Vikki? No. The boys?” He released a big breath. “It’s been three years since I’ve seen them, and I still hang their stockings, just in case they come to visit their grandparents. It’s been so long, I don’t even know what they’re into, but I can’t help myself. Eternal optimist, Gray calls me.”
“That must be hard,” she said. “When my mom left, Thomas was too young to remember her. But every Mother’s Day, he still wants to make Judy a card and mail it.”
“Do you?”
She snorted. “No. But I keep them in a box, tied with a white ribbon, in case . . . hell, I don’t know why I keep them.”
“Because beneath your tough-girl exterior and superhero armor, you’re a romantic, Beck,” he said, without an ounce of judgment in his voice.
Her phone pinged, rescuing her from the conversation.
“Sorry. I need to check this.” She glanced at the screen, and it was Kevin, wanting to remind her about the printer labels. She texted back that she’d bring them.
“Was that Bruce?”
“God, no. We broke up by text while I was bathing Gregory Pecker,” she challenged. “You still think I’m a romantic?”
“Sorry. The only words I heard were ‘you,’ ‘bathing,’ and ‘pecker,’” he said, a slow smile curving at his lips. “It doesn’t get more romantic than that.”
“You’re hopeless,” she said.
“And you’re single,” he pointed out. “I happen to know a great guy, if you’re looking.”
“Definitely not. Looking.”
“I get it. We have to work up to peckers and bathtubs.” He took a bite of a chocolate cake with raspberry filling and ganache frosting. “You have to try this.”
She did, and it was delicious and decadent. “So good. Have you tried the peanut-butter caramel cake?”
Her phone pinged again. It was Kevin. Again. He wanted to remind her that if he wasn’t home at exactly eleven, she should wait. She didn’t text him back.
“I made a few calls to some contacts,” Levi said. “Got some quotes on extra lighting, outdoor heaters, and a temporary dance floor. If you’d rather go with your contacts, no biggie. Just thought I’d get some ideas on paper.”
He handed her a spreadsheet, a very thorough spreadsheet that contained the names, contact info, quotes, and details on delivery and pickup, for more companies than just lighting and outdoor heater rentals.
“This is great,” she said. “But it must have taken you hours.”
