“How is Howie doing?”
She shrugs. “It’s good for him to be in sports.”
I look out and see her kid sprawled across the bench of the opposing team and try not to laugh. It probablyisgood for him, even if he’s forced to be here. Wyatt had his coach last summer, and he’s a solid guy.
“Are you dating anyone?” she asks. Jillian is the most direct woman I know, which I would appreciate more if my directness in return had any effect on her.
“I’m not, but there’s someone I’m interested in. What aboutyou?”
She waves her hand back and forth in a noncommittal way. “I am and I’m not. He’s… not you.”
Wow, that is more direct than usual. “Jillian, you don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re a good dad. You dress nice and you smell nice. You smile at me even when I bug you. That puts you, like, up here.” She gestures above her head. “All the guys on the dating apps are, like, down here.” Her hand drops to below her knees.
“There’s a good guy out there for you.”
She sighs, knowing what I’m actually saying: I’m not him. Her forwardness reminds me of Esther. It’s not Jillian’s fault, but it’s one of many reasons I can’t date her. I don’t want to date anyone right now. Especially after Maggie pointed out all the reasons why I’m not boyfriend material. I can’t be what Jillian needs, even if I wanted to.
“Who’s this person you’re interested in?” she asks.
“What now?” A kid on her son’s team lobs the ball from half court in an attempt to beat the buzzer before halftime and almost takes out two of his teammates.
“You said you were interested in someone.”
That’s right, I referenced Rosalie. Why did I do that? I’m certainly not about to mention to Jillian that my kids’ nanny takes up a lot of space in my brain lately. If I’m being honest, she’s a big reason I don’t want to date anyone right now.
“It’s nothing.”
“Is she off-limits?”
“Uninterested.” But now I’m wondering if that’s true or if Rosalie just wants me to believe it’s true. She’s kept her distance, but when our eyes meet, I feel like there’s so much she’s holding back, probably for the same reasons I am. It would be a very bad idea.
Chapter 18 – Emergency Romance Book
Rosalie
Despite knowing where this cooking class was being held and what we were cooking, I was not prepared. I like to have fun, but this is aparty.
Apparently, it’s BYOW, as in, bring your own wine, red or white. We were all carded at the door to make sure we’re over twenty-one, and the class provided one complimentary glass which I’ve barely touched. However, several class members brought their own bottles and shared them around. The two older ladies behind us are big Frank Sinatra fans. Loud fans, and getting louder by the minute. It’s really weird, since we’re basically sitting in what looks like my high school chemistry lab.
Trey has joined them in singing, now that his fourth glass has hit his system. If I hadn’t driven here separately, I’d be freaking out right now. I’m just relieved they all plan to share rides homeusing a designated driver app I also wasn’t told about.
“Why didn’t you tell me this was a drinking thing?” I ask Trey once he gets past the chorus and doesn’t know the rest of the words. I guide him back toward our shared workspace. He leans against the counter rather than attempting to get back up on his stool. Good call.
“This is a lot of drinking,” he admits. “I’m not usually a wine guy, but, when in Rome!”
He’s incredibly honest when he’s tipsy. Maybe too honest. He talked the entire time we made linguini with marinara sauce. I now know he got fired from his high school lifeguarding job when he started a conga line on the way up to the slide and four people tripped. I know he’s killing it in sales, and his boss gave him a secret pay raise. I know his mom thinks I’m too tall. I’m the same height as Trey, five foot five. Height is not an issue for me, but platform Converse sneakers are, I’ve decided. They make him look like he’s wearing hockey skates, and not in a hot way. Not that I’m into hockey romance books, but I’ve seen the covers.
Being completely sober, I do not share my opinion on his footwear. For all I know, his mom picked them out.
Trey raises an eyebrow and leans into me. “I didn’t know we’d be drinking, but Glenda back there showed me how to download the app to get home. She’s my best friend. Well, maybe not my best, best friend. She doesn’t have a cookie apron on.”
“Good point. What are you going to do with your car?”
“That’s the best part. The app sends a driver to drive your car home. Glenda doesn’t drive. She’s gonna ride home with me. Do you think this date is going well?”
“Ours or your date with Glenda?”