Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mia
“ H ey, buddy. How are those yummy goldfish?” I kiss my sweet boy on the head as I bring the first few dishes to the table.
“Yummy, fish!” Sawyer says from his high chair as he pops another one into his mouth. I’ve been an anxious mess while prepping dinner, and for my sanity, knowing he was safe and sound in one place was a must. A high chair tray full of crackers has done the trick.
“Let’s hope Gus Gus is as enthusiastic as you.”
The moment I set homemade guacamole and tortilla chips on the kitchen table, there’s a knock on the door. As if he’s conducting the orchestra of butterflies inside my belly that only perform when Angus is around, they begin their symphony.
It’s 5:55. Angus is five minutes early, just like I knew he would be. Five minutes early has always been on time for him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he stood outside and watched the clock not knocking until the second 5:55 hit.
That would be adorable.
However, the word adorable hits the road when I open the door and the icy evening breeze gusts into the house. There is nothing adorable about the man standing on the other side of the threshold. His fresh shave has erased the stubble usually gracing his face by this time of day, and if I’m not mistaken, he just got a haircut. I’ve seen him in his gray Carhart jacket and jeans a million times. He usually pairs his daily uniform of a T-shirt and jeans with his sexy-as-sin work boots; however, tonight, he’s wearing cowboy boots.
Holy. Shit.
Was he serious when he said this was a date?
No.
Uh, uh.
No way.
I’m reading too much into his appearance. He probably has an actual date after our dinner. Just because I changed five times before he got here and did my hair in just as many styles, doesn't mean he went out of his way to look good.
“You gonna invite me in, Goof?”
Shit. Busted.
“Oh, of course. Yes, sorry. Come in. It’s your house, after all.” I’m stumbling all over myself like an idiot.
Opening the door wider, I step back so he can enter, and he breezes by in slow motion, his eye contact unsettling in the best possible way. He’s no longer hiding his feelings and in return making it impossible for me to hide mine. The thing is… it’s too late. Life has happened and there will never be an us .
Once he’s inside, I close the door, taking a beat to tamp down my embarrassment from getting busted checking him out before turning to face him. If only the clean, citrusy smell of him didn’t linger, clouding my thoughts.
God, he smells so good.
“Little man! Whatcha got there?”
Hearing him talking to Sawyer is my cue that it’s safe to turn around. But I couldn’t have been more wrong if I had said he was an alien from another planet.
Angus is squatting next to Sawyer’s chair while my sweet angel boy feeds him Goldfish crackers. Sawyer opens his mouth like I used to when I would feed him his baby food and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
My heart is not okay.
My son deserves a father figure like this. Sure, he has Angus in his life as a family friend. He’s as close to an uncle as he’ll ever get, but Sawyer deserves a daddy like the man currently eating crackers out of his slobber covered fingers.
Once the kitchen island is between me and the boys, I distractedly finish up the last details of dinner. I’m surprised at how excited I am to cook for him. Especially this meal. I plate everything on serving dishes and start carrying them to the table.
“So, tonight’s dinner isn’t fancy, but it’s your favorite.”
“I have a favorite?”
Instantly feeling flushed with nerves, I begin to doubt myself.
This has to be his favorite. It’s all he ever wants on his birthday. Right? Shit, did I get this wrong?
“I thought it was your favorite.” Keeping my eyes down, I slide around him and set down the tortilla warmer in the middle of the table along with the Mexican rice. “Maybe it’s just a birthday thing?”
“Well, hot damn. Did you make me carne asada street tacos, Goof?”
“I did,” I say, still not looking at him as I make another trip to the kitchen for the next round of dishes. “I hope that’s okay?”
“It’s perfect,” he says so softly I almost don’t hear him.
Glancing up, I find him watching me, a serious yet thoughtful look on his face. Like it means something that I remembered his favorite meal. His expression makes me happy, and I can’t help but smile. He releases his own smile, and we grin at each other.
We’re both happy.
“Mama, more fishies pease,” Sawyer says, breaking the sweet spell we were under.
Angus turns his attention to my son, allowing me a private moment to shake my head free of the inappropriate thoughts jumbling up my mind. Not sexy thoughts, but possibilities for a future kind of thoughts. You know, those even more dangerous kind of thoughts.
“Buddy, you need to eat more than fishies,” I say over my shoulder on my way back to the kitchen. “I’ve almost got everything ready, and then I’ll load you up.”
“Need any help in there?”
“I’m good, thanks. Almost done. Just take off your coat and sit your butt down. I owe you , remember? I will do the cooking and the cleaning. So, don’t even think about asking about helping with dishes later. Got it?”
“Wow, Sawyer. Is your mommy always this bossy?”
“Mama, bossy.” Sawyer giggles as I set the last of the dishes down.
“Hey, now. No ganging up on Mommy.”
“We would never, would we, buddy?” He winks and I melt.
Making my last trip to the kitchen, I pull out two bottles of Gus’s favorite Mexican lager, steadying myself with yet another deep breath.
You can do this, Mia. It’s just Angus. Your lifelong friend.
Approaching the table with a little bow, I hand him his beer.
“Wow, you really thought of everything.”
“If there is one thing I know about you, it’s that you only drink this beer with this meal.”
I clink my bottle to his and sit.
“And you’re worried we need a study session tonight to make sure we convince your co-workers we’re husband and wife.”
“I don’t think knowing what kind of beer you like will be enough. Study time is a must.”
“Like I said, bossy.”
“Oh, I’ll show ya bossy.” I stand, taking the plate sitting in front of him.
On one side of the plate, I lay out two tortillas and build Angus’s tacos. Carne asada, onions, cilantro, and a lime wedge on the side. On the other side of the plate, I add rice and my favorite little side dish of black beans, sweet corn, and more cilantro.
Placing his dinner in front of him, I point to each item in the center of the table. “Homemade quac, homemade salsa, jalapenos if you want ‘em, and Juantia’s chips, because duh. And if you’re good, you might get dessert.” I end the sentence by sticking my tongue out at him.
He settles himself in his seat. “I like this side of you, Goof.”
I like it too. Not the bossy part. The feeding him part.
“Mama, me too?”
“Yes, baby.”
I pick up his Paw Patrol plate and fill one section with rice. In another section, I already have his applesauce and cut up cheese quesadilla. His matching Paw Patrol spoon is clutched in his chubby little hand, and don’t forget the matching sippy cup of milk. He’ll likely wear more of his meal than he will eat, but that’s okay tonight.
With his plate in front of him, he says, “Deet do.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie.”
“Seriously, I think the way he says thank you is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Angus comments, watching Sawyer in wonder as he devours his applesauce.
“I know, right? However, the mess he’s about to make won’t be so cute, but we’ll let him have some fun tonight. I promise no harm will come to your floors.”
“I noticed the tarp under his chair. You think of everything, don’t you?”
“It’s part of being a mom.”
“Well, he’s got a pretty good one, if you ask me.”
The heat on my face tells me he likely knows his compliment did something to me and that’s the last thing I need. So, I pretend he didn’t say anything.
“Don’t let your food get cold. Eat up.”
“Eat up!” Sawyer exclaims, lifting a spoonful of his rice into his mouth. Most of it falls down the front of him. He tries to catch it, scooping it up and shoveling it in his mouth.
Angus chuckles and takes a bite while I load up my plate. By the time I’m seated, he’s swallowing the last bites of his first taco, looking at me like I’ve done something wrong.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not a thing. It’s just so damn good it pisses me off.”
I chuckle. “Glad you like it.”
“Woman. Like doesn’t come close to covering it.”
All I can do is shrug, because I don’t really know what else to say.
“So, how’s the job?” he asks as he dips a chip into the guacamole.
“It’s great. Everyone’s nice.”
“I know you were worried you were rusty. Did it all come back to you like you hoped?”
“Did I say that?”
“You did, after your interview.”
I did?
“You were worried they’d hire you and then you’d let them down because you were rusty.”
That’s right. I did.
“You’re an elephant, you know that?”
He takes a bite of his rice mixed with my black bean concoction and tilts his head to the side, confused.
“You never forget. Anything!”
He shrugs.
I shake my head. “Yes, it all came back. The clinic is very state-of-the-art, though. Lots of new techie things to learn.”
We eat and chat, and it’s fun. My mind is already racing with what I can make him next.
There may not be a next time, but a girl can dream.
When we finish our tacos, I move to the kitchen to prepare dessert. It doesn’t take much since it’s his favorite flan from his favorite restaurant. Walking from the kitchen with the plate, it feels like I’m about to deliver his birthday cake to him, but by the time his birthday gets here in August, our little charade will probably be over.
“Ooh, what do we have here?” he says with Sawyer in his arms. I’m impressed to see that he cleaned him up while I was in the kitchen.
“This is from your friends at Matador . I can’t take the credit.”
“Sawyer, have you ever had flan?”
“No, he has not,” I answer flatly.
“Your life is about to change, my friend.”
“You are not giving my child that nasty stuff.”
“How dare you?”
“Sorry, it’s gross!”
“We’ll let Sawyer be the judge of that.”
He scoops up a piece with the spoon and lets my boy try it. It comes out of Sawyer’s mouth almost as quickly as it went in. Angus catches it in his hand.
“Ucky.”
The drool doesn’t faze Angus as he puts the wet bite in his napkin.
“That’s my boy.” I reach my hands out to take Sawyer, but Angus shakes his head. “I’ll take him while you eat,” I say.
“He’s fine. No dessert for you?”
“Nope, but it is time to work on our story.”
He pulls his spoon from between his lips, his tongue swiping over them as he waves his spoon in the air. I hate knowing what he can do with that tongue, because it’s making this much harder than it needs to be.
“Proceed.”
“Okay, for starters... How did we meet?”
“That’s easy. The truth is all we need. I’ve known you since the day you were born. I was two, our moms are best friends, and we grew up together. What do they call it? Friends to lovers ? Don’t think I haven’t heard you and Daisy discussing your books at Sunday dinner. Pervs.” He winks.
Why is he so nonchalant about all of this? Angus McKinnon is not a nonchalant person. He rarely pokes his head out of his hard shell, but since Sawyer’s birthday party, I’ve gotten to know a whole new side to him. His lighthearted take on our situation is throwing me for a loop, and I swear he’s enjoying every moment of this.
“But, if we call each other husband and wife, that is far from the truth. So, we will have to lie at some point.”
“What if we purposely never say those two words? If you never call me your husband and I never call you my wife, technically, we aren’t lying.”
“You are all about technicalities, aren’t you?”
“If it helps you feel better about the situation, I will find every technicality I can.”
I’ve always known him to be a kind person, but lately he’s acting like my well-being is his responsibility. Giving me his home and pretending to be my fake husband and father to my child goes above and beyond the whole family friend responsibilities. I’m so confused.
“And if they ask, when did we realize we were more than friends?” I push back.
“Well, I don’t know your answer, but I know mine.”
“Have you actually been working on your story?”
“No need to work on anything. Again, all I have to do is tell the truth.”
What?
“What?” I ask, on a confused whisper.
“You don’t remember me telling you about your prom.”
“You meant that?”
“Sweetheart, you will never hear a lie from this mouth.” He bounces Sawyer in his arms. “Like I told you that night, it felt like a punch to the gut to watch you going to prom with someone else, but I knew you could never be mine. I enlisted the next day. Safer that way. You were off-limits and there was no way I was sticking around to watch you with other guys. I had to get out of town.”
“Angus, no. Tell me that’s not true.”
That can’t be the case. He’s been through so much. Horrible things. It can’t be because of me.
“Well, I was ninety percent sure I was joining, anyway. That day solidified my decision and sped things up a bit.”
He takes another bite of his flan, then offers a bite to Sawyer, who shakes his head vigorously.
“More for me.” He kisses my little man on the top of his head.
Sawyer snuggles into him, causing my heart to break a little.
I clear my throat nervously. “I have a hard time believing you have felt this way for so long. I mean, I can’t be that oblivious, can I?”
“I’ll lie for you, Mia. But I’ll never to you.”
I’m not sure my heart can take more of this conversation, but I wouldn’t stop it if I could.
“But you never showed any interest in me. I would have noticed. Trust me.”
“I’ve learned how to put my walls up over the years. We can never be, so why instigate something? It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
“So, why now?”
“Honestly?”
“You said you’d never lie.”
“Doesn’t mean you want to hear the truth.”
“I do.”
“I can’t really explain it. Since the day you said you were pregnant, but wouldn’t tell us who the father was, I’ve had this overwhelming need to protect you, and this little guy.” He rubs my yawning boy.
Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming.
“I’ve been able to keep myself in check, but when you needed help and I knew I could provide the solution to your problem, I couldn’t not step in. The relief I felt the day I drove away from this house, knowing the two of you were inside... Mia, I can’t explain it. It took a weight off my chest I hadn’t realized was even there.”
“Gus, you don’t have to protect us. You know that, right?”
My mind races with all the moments I must have missed over the last two and a half years. When I look back now, Angus was always there. I was so wrapped up in my pregnancy and then Sawyer; I saw it for what I’m sure everyone else has: a good friend who was there for all the important moments. Including the night I went into labor. He was there all night long and didn’t leave until after family and friends could come in and see the two of us. I remember him kissing me on the forehead, but I was so out of it, I didn’t see it as anything other than platonic.
“But I do need to protect you.”
“Why?” I’m absolutely baffled. None of this makes sense.
“I don’t know why. It’s just the way it is.” He shrugs the shoulder not weighed down by a two-year-old whose eyelids are growing increasingly heavy. “The day I drove you to your interview and hung out with this guy,” he places another small kiss on Sawyers' head, “I hadn’t felt that relaxed in a long time.”
I don’t know what to say. All I can do is watch the two of them from across the table. He looks natural with Sawyer in his arms. He notices him nodding off and lowers his voice when he continues.
“You two staying here feels good. It’s right. I may not be here with you, but that’s okay because you’re right where you’re supposed to be.”
“Angus, I don’t know what to say.”
It’s true. I’m baffled. It makes all the mixed signals I was getting from him much clearer, but it’s still too much to wrap my head around.
He can’t feel this way about me. About us. He can’t.
“There’s nothing to say. I still shouldn’t have crossed the line like I have. I should have left it at friends. Taking care of you two should have been enough. And it was. Until I selfishly kissed you. All it took was one kiss and you obliterated my well-built walls.”
Right back at cha, cowboy.
“I don’t regret that night, Mia. Never. But I also know that night was as far as we can take it.”
“Agreed.”
“Good. Now, if someone asks to get me a drink at the party, you should probably know what my favorite drink is.”
And just like that, one of the most meaningful conversations of my life ends. We’re back to our fake relationship. A relationship I wish was anything but fake. Regardless, I roll with the conversation change.
Besides, the answer to his question is easy.
“EBC if we’re talking beer, and an old-fashioned for a proper drink.”
“Seems I’m not the only one paying attention. I mean, you knew my favorite meal.”
There are so many flirtatious replies on the tip of my tongue, but I go for the safety of our new direction of conversation. Besides, he’s got me. I did know exactly what to make him tonight, but I’m going to pretend he didn’t mention it.
“Whatever. You think you know my favorite drink?”
“Sweetheart, it’s not even a question. Wine is always red, beer is always EBC. Before the baby, your mixed drink of choice was a vodka cranberry, but post baby, you prefer a margarita on the rocks, if you drink at all.”
Holy shit.
I am so turned on I squirm in my seat to keep my body distracted from the pulsing between my legs.
“Okay, well, we can check that one off the list.”
“Mia, I know you’re worried about being caught in a lie, but we know nearly everything about one another. I can tell them where you went to school, everywhere you’ve worked, and your favorite color.”
A small laugh escapes me. “You can’t possibly know my favorite color.”
“Sure do. You like that retro baby blue color. Like the shade they used on old school convertibles. I have no idea what you call it, but I know it when I see it. It always reminds me of you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Like I said, I think you’re making a bigger deal out of this than you need to.”
Sawyer’s limp little arm falls from Gus’s neck.
“He’s out cold. Here, let me take him. I’ll go lay him down.”
“I got it,” he whispers as he stands, supporting Sawyer’s back.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“No, I don’t. But I want to.”
How do I argue with that? Especially after everything he’s shared tonight.
Nodding, I walk ahead of them into Sawyer’s room. I turn on the truck nightlight on the dresser Angus built and pull back the bedding he bought.
“Do you need to change him?” he asks.
“No, we’ll just let him be for now. You cleaned him up after he ate. We’ll let things slide tonight,” I say as my hand reaches out to rub soft circles on Sawyer’s back.
In the glow of the low light, Angus’s eyes lock onto mine. Something real is brewing between us. As much as I know I should, I can’t look away from him. Not when he’s looking at me like this. He doesn’t need to confess his years of repressed feelings, because now I see it all in his eyes. He wishes there could be an us.
Needing to break the spell, I close my eyes for the count of three, then step aside, letting him gently lay my angel down. He pulls the blankets over him and tucks his new favorite stuffed bulldog close to his side.
Tears threaten to fall at the heartfelt moment, so I turn my back on them, striding through the door to gather myself. Besides my parents, I’ve never watched anyone else put my child to bed, let alone the man who just told me his life is better when he’s taking care of the two of us. My emotions hover just under the surface and I’m afraid I’m about to fail at holding them back.
Would it be rude to ask him to leave his own house? I’m not sure how much of this I can take.
He meets me outside the bedroom door and I pull it until it’s almost closed, leaving it cracked.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice still hushed.
I point my head toward the great room and he follows me, but before I can say anything, he speaks.
“Dinner was perfect...” He puts his hands in his front pockets and the distance between us grows as we walk. “I... I really enjoyed myself, but I think I should head out.”
“Of course. Sure. Yes, it’s getting late.”
It’s not getting late. I’m just fumbling over my words because I wasn’t expecting him to bail already, even if it’s what I need him to do to protect myself. Still, disappointment takes a firm grip on my heart.
“Hey, I keep forgetting to ask. How’s your car holding up? Everything okay since you got it back? Need me to look at it?”
He steps closer, and my heart rate accelerates, but he only grabs his coat from the chair next to me. Nothing more.
“Oh, uh, my car. Yep, it’s fine. Thanks for asking.”
“And you’ve got snow tires, right?”
“Yes, I live in Central Oregon and I’m thirty-three years old. So, I’m all good. You don’t have to worry about me, Angus.”
If he wasn’t reaching for the door, I would say he was stalling, but no. He’s just Gus, being Gus.
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you Saturday night then.” He seems uncomfortable. As if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Text me and let me know what time to pick you up.”
“Um, okay. Sure.”
“Have a good night, Goof.”
“You too,” I say to the door because he’s already gone.