Page 105 of Beauty
Snow: Pretty sure that’s not a thing.
Brooks: It’s worth a shot.
Aiden: War?
War: My kids would lose their minds if I went without them.
Aiden: I’m going to lose my mind. Someone needs to come to mother-ducking Disney with me. Harry? Bet Ollie will want to go!
Me: Sorry, dude. We’re going fishing.
War: Oh, snap. Can I come with you and the big man?
Brooks: I could fish.
Snow: If we bring a cooler, I’m down.
Shit.
I pace the lobby while Ollie keeps his eye on the elevator. Sienna should be down any minute.
If I ignore the group chat, I can pretend I didn’t see their messages until too late.
I’m not sure who is more excited for today, Ollie or me.
Probably me, but my kid isn’t playing it cool at all. He had a great time with Sienna last night, and he’s chomping at the bit to teach her how to fish.
Or maybe he understands that his old man has no game and he’s doing me a solid by being my wingman.
I could use the help, so I’m not complaining. Putting Sienna at ease rather than pissing her off has been my top priority since she came back into my life. Convincing her to spend time with me is a nice little bonus. She and my son hitting it off so easily? It’s more than I could have asked for.
As much as I hate that Mav is still feeling bad, I’m thrilled about the turn of events. He’s wingmaning me, too, and doesn’t even know it. Without him, I wouldn’t have even had the opportunity to ask Sienna to come with us.
I’ve been racking my brain for ways to get through to her, and I think yesterday was a step in the right direction.
When the elevator opens, Ollie and I whip around.
At the sight of her, I almost stagger back a step. Her jean shorts are distressed, with several holes in strategic places, and her red halter top cups her breasts in a painstakingly perfect way.
Though I want to ravage her, I remind myself that my son is with us and force my attention to her effervescent green eyes and dazzling smile.
Ollie has far less chill. He darts for her, yelling, “You look pretty!”
I can’t help but chuckle, and a few people nearby join in.
“Doesn’t she, Dad?” He tips his head up and loudly whispers, “Bet his heart is doing thethump-thump-thump.”
I press my lips together. Little traitor. But he isn’t wrong.
“Thank you.” She gives my son a smile so bright I swear it cracks my heart in two. “Is this outfit okay for fishing? I’ve never gone.”
He bobs his head. “Yeah, no special outfit, right, Dad?”
I take two large steps, stopping a little closer than necessary. “You’re perfect,” I say, my voice thick.
She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, assessing me, clearly getting the double meaning.
Ollie prattles on for the thirty minutes it takes to get to the pier. Fortunately, Sienna is a master at steering the conversation back on track when he goes off on a tangent. Only when we’ve got our rented poles and are out on the pier does the kid take a breath.
