Chapter Nine #2
"You know what?" I say, helping Adeline put her backpack on her shoulders. "I'll get back to you, okay? Our schedule is a little crazy right now."
"Sure…right. Trey's heading towards the playoffs—very exciting," she beams. "Just let me know, we can be available anytime that works for Trey."
I look down at Adeline, whose eyes are wide as she subtly shakes her head "no" at my side.
"Of course. We'll see you around, Theresa."
The four of us turn and head for the exit.
"Please don't invite them over. Her daughter is rude, and she's terrible at ballet. Her mom pays double to keep her in this class."
"Why would she do that?" I ask as Isla and Berkeley hold the doors open.
Isla rolls her eyes. "You can't guess? Momma's trying to land an NHL player."
I shake my head and then hit the unlock on the car.
"See you girls tomorrow night at the game," Isla calls over.
I wave and climb in, Adeline already buckling her seatbelt.
"Can we make pasta tonight for dinner?" Adeline asks, already heading to the pantry to grab the ingredients.
"Whatever you want, sweetie."
"And just so you know…Uncle Trey doesn't like casseroles," she says with a smirk.
I laugh. "Noted."
She chatters about her day while we cook, and I try not to think about how domestic this feels. How right. The front door opens just as we're setting the table.
"Something smells good," Trey calls out.
He appears in the doorway, fresh from the gym and a fitted T-shirt that does illegal things to his shoulders. His hair is pulled back in a backwards hat, the side of his hair still damp from his shower, and the sight of him like this—relaxed, at home—makes my heart stutter.
Why are backward hats so damn sexy?
It's the eighth wonder of the world.
"We made pasta!" Adeline runs to hug him.
"I can see that." His eyes meet mine over her head. "You didn't have to cook."
"Yes, we did. Your cooking was about to poison me," Adeline says, making a choking noise with her hands around her throat.
He chuckles. "Maybe we should drop you out of ballet and put you in drama school instead.” He pats her head and then walks toward the fridge, pulls out a bottle of water, twists off the cap, and drinks half of it in one gulp.
"I second that decision," I tease.
"Oh yeah?" he asks. "Why is that?"
Trey plants a hand on the island and stares over at me as he downs the rest of his bottle of water.
"Vivi met Theresa today at ballet," Adeline says.
Trey takes a sharp gulp. "Oh…"
"Just a heads up. She knows where you live, and she really wants to feed you casserole." I tell him.
"You didn't invite her over, did you?" he asks with a look of concern on his face.
"God no. I'm not a masochist."
He relaxes. "Good. She's crazy, and I've been avoiding her since Adeline started ballet there."
I reach for the Parmesan cheese and begin to add a little more to the finished pasta.
Trey walks up behind me and reaches around me, plucking a hot penne noodle from the pot and plops it in his mouth. “Damn, that’s good. I’m starving. But you didn’t have to cook. I could have ordered in.”
"We wanted to." I busy myself with the sauce to avoid staring at him. "How was the gym?"
He moves closer, reaching past me for plates, his hand gently sliding over my hip as if to keep me from stepping back into him. The heat of his touch sends electricity down my spine.
"Good. Coach Haynes thinks we're ready for tomorrow's game." His voice drops lower. "Isla's going to come get Adeline after school and bring her to the game tomorrow night. I already cleared it with her."
"Actually, about that." I start. "Isla invited me to tag along with everyone. I mean…if that's okay." I tuck a string of hair behind my ear. "You don't have to pay me or anything. I'd just be coming to watch the game for fun with the girls."
"Of course it's okay. You're always welcome at the games. Adeline has access to my season tickets anytime you two want to come without an invite from the wives."
Adeline walks over to take the plates from Trey to set the table, and he reaches over and ruffles her hair, making her giggle. "I always love having my loudest cheerleader in the stands."
"That's me!" Adeline beams.
"Biggest shit-talker out there too," he stage-whispers to me. "She's going to get me kicked out of a game one of these days."
"I learned it from you," Adeline shoots back.
"Is this ready for the table?" Trey asks, pointing to the bowl of pasta piled high.
"Yes, and the salad and green beans are ready too," I tell him.
He grabs as much as he can and heads for the kitchen table where Adeline is setting out napkins and silverware.
Then my phone buzzes as I remember the rolls in the pantry.
I stop and read the text.
Dad: You haven't returned my calls about the wedding. How are you holding up? What’s going on with the board? I heard they kicked you out of the CEO position. Call me. Let me help.
But I still can't bring myself to take his call. To hear the disappointment in his voice. I remember how he treated Isla when she ran off from her cheating fiancé five years ago. They've patched up their relationship since, and he’s trying with Berkeley and Oliver.
He set up a trust fund for both of them—no strings attached.
Still, his expectations for his daughters are different from his expectations for his grandchildren.
He was so happy that I was engaged to Jameson, and I'd be lying if I said the little girl in me wasn’t happy to have his approval for once.
The little girl who was abandoned by her biological father.
Who grew up with a single mother who was barely making ends meet until she married Conrad Newport.
I leave my phone on the counter and head for the pantry, grabbing the rolls, and then head for the dinner table, where Trey and Adeline are dishing up. Adeline is already telling an animated story with her hands while Trey listens as if it's the most amusing story he's ever heard.
Right now, this is where I want to be—no distractions.
Because two months with them is all I get.