6. Chapter 6
“A double hot chocolate and strawberry milkshake for the princess,” Reese declares, sliding the pink drink across the table with an exaggerated flourish.
Ella giggles, clutching it with both hands, and although it’s sweet that he got her that, all I can think about is how hyper she’s going to be after finishing it.
Reese gives me a wink as he sets down a tiny cup in front of me. “And one espresso for the queen.”
“Thank you,” I say, already reaching for my purse, but his hand comes down gently over mine.
“It’s on me.”
I sigh, feeling the unease knot in my stomach.
I know he’s trying to be nice, but that doesn’t make me feel any less inferior.
Ever since Zach convinced me to quit my library job so I could focus on school, I’ve noticed people covering for me more and more.
Reese is no exception, and I don’t want him to ever feel like I’m taking advantage of him. He’s done too much for me and Ella.
“Reese—”
He raises his hand, shaking his head. “Please. If I don’t spend it on you two, I’ll probably spend it on something stupid… like tickets to a hockey game.”
He shuffles into the booth next to Chris and gives him a wink.
Chris snorts, leaning back against the booth. “Yeah, because heaven forbid you spend money on a real sport for once.”
Reese clutches his chest. “Real sport? You mean the one where you glide around in circles chasing a puck the size of a cookie?”
Ella giggles with the straw still in her mouth. “Cookies are yummy.”
“Exactly,” Reese says, pointing at her. “You can’t eat the equipment, otherwise there is no game. A football only looks like a football. Therefore, football wins.”
Chris rolls his eyes and takes the yellow crayon Ella offers him. “Don’t listen to him, Ella. Hockey is the best sport in the whole world. It’s cooler than football.”
“But Uncle Zach plays football,” Ella pipes up, looking between them. “He says hockey’s for home wreckers.”
I grab a napkin and cover my mouth, fighting to not spit out my coffee as I laugh. It’s true. Zach says it often—about Chris, because he’s under the impression he’s the one keeping him and Honey apart, but I hadn’t realized he’d ever said it in front of Ella.
The table goes quiet. Chris draws with his crayon, not making eye-contact with any of us.
Reese coughs into his fist, trying not to laugh. “Does he now?” Then he throws me a smirk. Like me, he has to hear about this more than he’d like to admit.
Ella beams, nodding, clearly proud of herself.
“Well, that settles it. Straight from the source. Football is the best.”
Chris lifts his head slowly, looking at me flatly. “You know, I think your cousin needs to get his memory checked. Last I remember, Honey broke it off because she made friends with his stalker.”
“You did too,” Reese mutters beside him.
I shake my head, biting my lip to hold back another laugh. “Don’t take it personally. Zach blames the weather, the cafeteria food, and once even the post office for his and Honey’s relationship status. You just so happen to be his favorite scapegoat since Jenni transferred out.”
Chris goes back to coloring, the yellow crayon scratching across the page as he mutters under his breath.
Ella leans over to inspect his work. “You’re pressing too hard. You’ll break it.”
Reese snorts. “Story of his life.”
Chris flicks the broken crayon tip at him, earning another round of giggles from Ella.
“First I ruin relationships, now I ruin coloring time. Elite stats.”
Reese shakes his head, then reaches over the table, grabbing his own coloring sheet and sets it in front of him.
“Alright,” he says. “Miss Ella, can you teach me the proper way to color a unicorn?” He waves the blue crayon dramatically like it’s a sword. “Do I start with the horn, or is that too advanced?”
Ella gasps. “No. Rainbows first. Always rainbow.”
“Rainbow first,” Reese repeats solemnly, bowing his head as he dutifully starts to color in the book. His broad shoulders are hunched over the tiny page as he sticks his tongue out.
“Since I broke this one, can I have a new crayon?” Chris asks Ella.
“Okay, but you have to use this one.” She rolls the white crayon in his direction focusing more on the paper in front of her.
“Great,” Chris mutters before accepting his fate and the crayon.
I wrap my hands around my coffee cup, the warmth seeping through to my fingers as I watch the two of them bent over crayons and coloring sheets, vying for my daughter’s approval.
Reese glances up, catching me watching. His smile softens, and he drops the blue crayon before drawing his attention to me.
“So, Tiff—” He clears his throat. “I was wondering if maybe you’d want to—”
The bell above the door jingles, cutting him off, and Honey breezes in with flushed cheeks—maybe from the cold, or maybe from another fight with her father. Who knows at this point. Both feel inevitable this time of year.
She slides into the booth next to me, and Chris immediately looks up, giving her a bright smile.
Does she notice it?
That he’s in love with her? Maybe not. Zach used to look at her just like that too. Still does whenever they’ve accidentally ended up in the same room.
I sometimes think that so many people look at her like she’s the answer to a question they’ve been asking their whole lives that she doesn’t realize it’s not normal to be loved like that.
She thinks she’s broken, but she’s more put together than I ever dream of being.
Effortlessly beautiful, she doesn’t have to do anything to command a room.
Meanwhile, I’m lucky if I get out the door without crusted food on my clothes.
Speaking of, I somehow have strawberry shake on my shirt, and I haven’t been anywhere near Ella’s drink.
Reese's unasked question hangs between us, but he doesn’t attempt to ask me again. I don’t try to answer, either, so we’re at an awkward stalemate.
Honey's gaze darts from me to Reese, her brow slightly furrowed.
“Did I interrupt something?”
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” Reese says at the same time, his smile unfazed. “I asked Tiff if she wanted to go out with me, but I didn’t finish my proposal. I want it to be a proper date this time. Not a playdate with two four-year-old girls who dress me up as a cat while we’re on it.”
I open my mouth, willing myself to say something, but nothing comes to my head.
What the hell do I say to that?
My gaze drops to Ella, who’s thankfully too engrossed with helping Chris color in his page to notice or care about Reese’s proposal.
“Aww.” Honey’s shoulders relax, and she looks between the two of us as Reese’s words hang in the air.
I don’t answer, hoping that if I stare at the bottom of my coffee cup long enough, everyone might forget.
“Tiff?” Honey says, elbowing me on the side.
I cough. Loudly. Embarrassingly, because as much as Zach and Honey want me to be ‘normal’, dating feels so far beyond my mom life, even if it were with someone like Reese.
Reese is—well, Reese is everything I could possibly want.
Funny, smart, and endlessly patient with Ella.
When she and his niece, Maya, dressed him up as that cat, he just flashed his beautiful smile and meowed for the rest of the afternoon.
He’s sweet, and yes, unfairly attractive, and I could keep listing all the great things about him until I ran out of breath, but none of that changes the fact that I can’t say yes to him, even if there is a part of me that might want to.
Jamie’s here, and throughout my time in Indiana, I’ve managed to keep Ella’s father under wraps. I doubt that’s going to be possible now, and I can’t drag someone else into this mess.
“Uh,” I say, trying to think of a way out of this conversation.
Chris whistles low, still coloring. “This is going smooth, bro. Real smooth,” he mutters under his breath.
I glance at Honey, throwing her a pleading look.
She knows the drill. We’ve discussed it before, so she lets out a theatrical sigh.
“Well, don’t let me stand in the way of true love.
I’m just here withering away into nothing while my father and Jonathan dissect my every move like it’s their favorite group project. ”
Subject change. Thank you.
“Why do you still bother working there?” Chris asks. “You said you were done with the internship after—” He cuts himself off, probably realizing there’s no delicate way to say after your breakup and the total implosion of your life courtesy of that psycho fangirl. “After everything.”
Honey waves a hand. “Yeah, well, I already got the credit signed off. It’d be stupid not to finish it out.”
It’s a decent cover. Believable, even to people who don’t know the full extent of her agreement with her father, but I know the truth. She’s staying there because of me. She’s afraid if she leaves early, her father will go back on his promise and let Jamie’s father tie me up in more litigation.
The thought twists something deep in my stomach, and even though I’ve told her to stop torturing herself to protect me, she won’t listen. I don’t want her around those people as much as I never want Ella around them—a prospect that seems to be getting closer than I’d like.
It’s been a week, and Jamie hasn’t been back, so at least having Honey on the inside means I might get a hint about what’s going on before it happens.
Chris shakes his head. “You’re a masochist.”
“Occupational hazard,” Honey says dryly, snagging one of Ella’s crayons. “And my therapist says I’m ‘building character.’ Which I think is grown-up code for ‘really, really stubborn.’”
“I think the better term for it is determined,” I add.
“Yeah. Um,” Honey says, glancing at me with an unreadable expression. She turns to Reese and then to Chris. “Can you guys give us a minute? Girl talk.”
Girl talk?
Why does the urgency on her face make it feel a lot more serious than that?
Chris gives Honey a nod, and holds out his hand, offering it to Ella. “Miss Ella, will you come and help us pick a song from the jukebox?”