Devin: Oh,sure. Whatever you gotta tell yourself.
Chad: So … when are you gonna put a ring on THAT?
Itossed my phone against the dashboard. I wasn’t going to waste my red light ona question like that. Fucking Chad. He’d been with the same woman forsixyearsand he had the audacity to ask that of me after sleeping with one forthreeweeks?
Ihad told Greyson that I would pick him up from school on his last day, and thenthe two of us were going to head to Mrs. Worthington’s house for dinner andchinchilla snuggles with Tabby and Jane. I pulled up to the curb and got out tolean against the side of the Range Rover, waiting for school to be let out,when a soccer mommy waiting at a mini-van caught sight of me.
“Ihaven’t seen you around here before,” she casually mentioned, walking over tome with a friendly smile planted firmly to her face, but there was no mistakingher wandering eyes.
“BecauseI’ve never been here before,” I replied with the obvious.
“Well,are you a father?”
Iwas still getting used to saying it aloud, but I nodded without hesitation. “Iam. Otherwise it’d be pretty creepy for a middle-aged guy to be hanging aroundoutside of a school, wouldn’t it?”
Shelaughed with a blend of flirtation and discomfort. “Yeah, I would say so.” Sheextended her waif of a hand. “Cindy Schaffer.”
Weshook. “Sebastian Moore.”
“Whodo you belong to?” Cindy asked, pulling her hand back and flipping her hairover her shoulder.
“Belongto?” I scoffed.
Iwas about to run through a speech about being an independent man and notbelongingto anybody, when she giggled with obvious intent and laid her hand against myarm.
“Imean, who is your child?”
Myeyes dropped to that lingering hand. Instinct told me to check for a weddingring, only to find none. Pulling my eyes back to her face, I quickly made anassessment: single divorced mommy looking for a thrill.
“GreysonClarke.”
Thehand still hadn’t left my arm, as a cocktail of sympathy and shock flickered overher gaze. “You’re … Greyson’s father? I wasn’t aware—"
“Yes,”I replied shortly, finding myself exceedingly aggravated with her hand on myarm and those fingers, now beginning to stroke lightly. Nobody but Tabby hadtouched me in over three weeks and I wasn’t liking it.
“I’m… I’m so sorry about his mother.” A judgmental note struck that word:mother.“I’m Jason’s mom. He’s friends with Greyson.”
Iremembered that name.Jason. “Wait a second,” I hardened, brushing herhand off my arm, “Jason? His dad was screwing Sam, wasn’t he?”
Mybrash question startled her. She looked around us for obvious onlookers, as shegave her head a tiny shake. “Um, well, they had seen each other a few times—”
“Right.That’s what I thought,” I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest. “Cindy, do mea favor, okay, and tell Jason’s dad, that if Jason ever calls Greyson an orphanor his mother a whore ever again, I’m going to personally pay him a visit. Can youdo that for me?”
Thedoors to the school opened up and a flood of students spilled out onto thecurb. I should’ve been watching for Greyson, but I was too busy glaring at Cindy.Her mouth opened and shut repeatedly, like a damn guppy, before she turned withoutanother word and hurried back to her mini-van. I spotted Greyson, who hadalready seen me talking to her, as he walked over.
“Hey,”he mumbled, glancing toward her. “Why were you talking to Jason’s mom?”
“Justintroducing myself.”And letting her know you’re not a fucking orphan. “Howwas the last day of school?”
Reliefcurved his lips as he nodded. “Good.”
“Good,”I repeated, gripping his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”
***
Keepingour special relationship under wraps was becoming exceedingly more difficult astime went on. My instincts told me to greet her with a kiss, talk with my armswrapped around her waist, hold her hand when she was frustrated with work, andyet, I couldn’t do a damn thing. Not with Greyson around.
Thekid wasn’t an idiot. I did wonder occasionally if he ever picked up on it, perhapswhen Tabby’s eyes met mine and the lingering glances did the talking.
