He’d been freezing portions for years, but didn’t tell her that. He was too busy enjoying the fact that she was looking out for him, too. Stella had been mostly about what he could do for her, and he’d been all right with that. Even comfortable with it. And usually insisted on it.
“You want to do this again? Sunday maybe?” He felt confident asking. Some things you just knew.
“What time?”
“You name it. I’ll be working at home all day.”
She preferred afternoon to evening. He was fine with that, too.
Following her to the door, he moved closer, intending to kiss her good-night. Her expression stopped him before he’d made his intention obvious. She was worried about getting out the door without seeing the baby, not thinking about kisses.
He watched her walk to her car and only after she’d pulled out of his driveway and was out of sight did he close the door.
He really would’ve liked that kiss. To know her taste on his lips...
Probably just as well, though. He needed to get settled back into his career at Owens Investments and to learn how to be a dad before he took on any other committed relationship.
Friends was nice, though. Friends who helped each other...
Chapter Thirteen
Funny how things worked themselves out. Tamara hadn’t had a chance to learn anything on Friday night that could benefit her father. Then, on Saturday, while having lunch with the office manager at Owens Investments—a woman ten years older than her whom she’d never met before the previous week, but instinctively liked—the way in was handed to her.
Maria had been telling her about the system they used to keep up with the fast pace their traders required of them, and in so doing had explained quite a bit more than her father had done about his business. Maria had given her a pretty clear glimpse into the life of a stockbroker. As her father had said, the risks were great, mostly because laws were commonly broken, although it could be hard to prove. Insider trading being one of the most difficult.
She’d asked if Tamara had seen a movie from the late ’80s called Wall Street. She hadn’t. Maria had highly recommended that she watch it.
That night she found it on her streaming app and on Sunday showed up at Flint’s door in black-and-white leggings, a comfy oversize white top and zebra-striped flip-flops, with the movie rented and ready. All they had to do was type her account information into his smart TV and they’d be set.
“You’ve never seen Wall Street?” he asked as he brought glasses of iced tea and a bag of microwaved popcorn for them to share.
“No. It was out before I was born,” she told him. And then thought to ask, “Have you?”
Of course he would have. He was a stockbroker. And Flint seemed to study everything about anything that involved him. Like the baby, for instance. Yeah, there’d been a couple of common sense things he’d missed during his research before he’d brought his baby home, but in just those three days, he’d become better prepared than most expectant parents she’d known.
“Only about a dozen times,” he told her, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
Relieved that he wasn’t closer, that she wasn’t going to have to let him know they were “just friends,” she turned to smile at him, suddenly catching sight of the Pack ’n Play in the sunken living room behind them.
Suspecting that the portable bed was there because Tamara was where she was—in the living room—she felt a crushing weight come down on her. Disappointment, yes, but far more.
A baby was being ostracized because of her.
No, that wasn’t quite true. A lot of parents kept their young children separate from the family’s activities while the child slept. That was why there were nurseries.
But it wasn’t what she would’ve done if she’d had a child. It wasn’t what she’d planned to do.
“Do you keep her in there when you’re in here watching TV at night?”
“I’m not usually in here watching TV. I spend any free time I have on the computer. Checking stocks. My job is pretty much a 24/7 affair when I don?
??t specifically schedule time for other things.”
Like watching an old movie with her?
He’d turned on the TV. Clicked on the streaming app.
“Where’s your computer?”