He is completely perplexed at what the hell is happening. “What? Why?”
I yank the balloon down by its string and begin untying it. “Lola is petrified of balloons.”
He scoffs a laugh. “Balloons? A two-year-old is scared of balloons?”
“Yes.” I quickly push the loose balloon into the trash can near the elevator, hurry back to him, smile with relief, and wipe my hands. “Good.”
Hayes continues to stare at me, bewildered. “My child is scared of balloons?”
I shrug before I usher him along into my apartment. “Weird, I know. It’s a work in progress.”
Closing the door behind us, he turns to me, and I step forward to square his shoulders with my hands. “Okay.” We both breathe together, then I turned puzzled. “What’s the bouquet of roses for?”
“Well, after the bad impression I made for our reunion, I felt compelled to show you I'm not a demanding ass… most of the time. I thought?—”
I cut right in and shake my head. “Oh, Hayes. Hayes, Hayes, Hayes,” I tut. “Flowers do not win me over and make up for the last 72 hours and your demeanor.” But I’d be lyingif I tried to deny that I don’t have butterflies right now. He just pulled a Prince Charming move, and for a split second, I remember the man I met on the island.
“A guy can try,” he replies in defeat. He notices the side table next to the coats hung on the wall and a basket with Lola’s unicorn rainboots sticking out. He tosses the flowers on the table and continues to hold the bunny.
“Ready?” I ask.
He smiles. It isn’t nervous. Nor scared. It’s excited. “No. Are you?” He continues to grin.
“No.”
“Then we should probably do this while we are completely overconfident,” he teases.
I agree with a half-smile, and I turn him around and give him a little push in the direction of the living room. But the touch causes us both to still because there’s a spark that travels between us, and I feel a tiny jump in my chest. He briefly turns his head slightly to the side as though he wants to look at me to check that I felt it, too, before he continues his journey forward.
When we enter the living room, Lola is completely lost in her tea set.
“Look, we have a visitor,” I attempt to grab her attention, and her head perks up. She instantly notices that Hayes is next to me. Lola doesn’t seem sure what to do or say, but her eyes notice the bunny, and suddenly her focus is lasered.
Hayes looks down to see what has her attention, then zips his eyes back up, smiling in the process. He shakes the stuffed toy. “Got you something. I heard Bagel could use a friend.”
My hand clenches my heart. What a perfect gift to give. He remembered what I mentioned. It’s also completely cutewhen the handsome man next to you wants to be sweet with a little girl with pigtails, warily staring at him.
“It’s okay, Hayes is a fr…” I stop mid-sentence. She’s at that funny age that I’m not sure what she will or will not remember; she is also resilient. “A special guy.”
Hayes gives me a quick glance that is a little hard on the edges, but he returns all focus on Lola, who now totters slowly her way to us, still unsure. He crouches down and holds out the bunny.
“She can be a little shy and not say much,” I assure him as she hides behind my leg but peeks around.
They stare at one another eye to eye, and I notice that Hayes might be choking up because I see the bob in his throat as he swallows. Lola accepts the stuffed toy but then hands it back to him.
Chuckling, I’m watching the scene unfold. “That’s a good sign. She must like you if she’s sharing.”
He grins at her. “Thank you.” Hayes looks up to check in with me. “I kind of wish the store had bigger emotional support rabbits.”
Lola waddles away to grab Bagel from the sofa and returns to Hayes and hands it to him.
“Ah, a bunny family,” he notes.
Lola nods fervently and smiles, showing her gap-toothed grin.
“Not going to say hi?” I ask her.
She looks at me, then back to Hayes, then me again. “Hi,” she says matter-of-factly, and it causes Hayes and me to chuckle.