“How’d the studio tour thing go? With your mom’s realtor friend? Last week?”
She nods, and I wait for a grin to spread across her face because a grin would tell me it went well. My stomach twists angrily as time ticks, her face remaining impassive as she puts the car into reverse.
“I’m sorry–” I start, wanting to immediately get on the phone and find her the goddamn location of her dreams. Maybe Ishouldcall Tobias back.
“No,” she interjects before I get carried away in my head. “No, it went well.”
Beck licks her lips, smiling at me. My cock thickens. I fucking love that smile of hers. Toothy and white, like she’s the kind of woman who religiously brushes and flosses before bed, no matter how tired. “I signed the lease, actually,” she says, and the car gets a little weightless from the news.
Her smile broadens, and my relief has me nearly floating.
“F–Dang,” I amend, catching myself before cursing. I promised I wouldn’t curse in front of Jett, and I’m going to make good on that promise. “That’s awesome.” I wonder if she celebrated, and immediately before I even ask or have an answer, I’m bummedIcouldn’t celebrate with her.
Her words are hesitant. “Yeah, I think it's awesome, too.”
“First, congratulations. Second, why do you not sound more excited? No moreWheel Get You, that’s gotta be good, right?” I ask, even though all I can selfishly think about is how she has yet to agree to go on a date with me. Without these drives, will I see her at all?
She shrugs, flicking the blinker on while she waits for an opportunity to join the line of waiting cars at the light.
“I’m just…” she trails off thoughtfully, and I give her a few moments to choose her words. “Processing.”
“Starting a new business is a big deal; that makes sense.” I pinch Jett’s toes as he gnaws on his own curled fist.
“Bo! Bo! Bo-bo-bo!” he yells, and Jesus Christ.
I want to be attractive to Beck.
I want her to see me and want me and need me andall the goddamn thingsthat a man is supposed to make a woman feel when they’re just starting to get to know one another.
But I’m too busy trying to hide my watery eyes as Jett calls my name in baby talk, over and over and over.
“Bo!” He shouts, pointing his giraffe’s partially decapitated head at me. “Bo-bo-bo!”
“It’s impossible that he’s saying my name, I realize that, but the idea that he is,” I trail off, shaking my head, smiling with wet eyes at a baby I didn’t even know a month ago.
When I look at the rearview mirror, Beck isn’t meeting my gaze. In the way she is intentional with her words, the choice to avoid me is no fluke either.
Her grip on the steering wheel intensifies, and I lean forward, gripping the back of her chair, letting a few of my fingertips smooth over her arms. “Beck.”
Leaning toward the passenger seat, I get a partial view of her profile, just in time to catch a single tear rolling down her cheek.
“Don’t do that,” I whisper, drawing each word out like a private but desperate plea. “Don’t cry.”
She wipes the tear away and laughs a little awkwardly but doesn’t ask me to lean back. But I do anyway, wanting her to be comfortable opening up.
When everyone inched toward me a year back, right up in my face, asking me to talk, it only pushed me further away. I grip the edge of the car seat, Jett now completely dozed off less than two minutes after blowing me away, and I wait.
I keep my eyes on the rearview mirror.
“You know, I announced my pregnancy the same day he served me divorce papers.”
We’re nearing Wrench Kings, so I curl my hand over her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Park over here. Let’s talk. I mean, if you have a second.”
Her blue eyes dart to the small park we’re passing, and in an instant, she flicks her blinker on and brings the car to the curb.
“Can I sit in the front?” My heart fucking races as she considers my question.
When she nods, I’m out of the car, hustling around the back in a split second. I’m careful in opening and closing the doors; knowing how easily Jett fell asleep, he can probably be woken up just as quickly.