Loving Him Off the Field (Santa Fe Bobcats #2)(67)

By some people’s standards, it was a pretty basic room. But it was something he’d had to do.

“When did you put this together?” Emma asked quietly.

Killian shrugged, embarrassed. “Just, you know, things here or there if they caught my eye.” Which was a lie. The day he’d moved in to the apartment, he’d bought a crib and diapers to keep, just in case. The fact that Charlie had never used them was a sucker punch to the gut. But he’d been able to donate them to a shelter, and that had felt good. Sneaking them in and out without Mrs. Reynolds seeing had been another story altogether. And replacing them with little boy–appropriate furniture and accessories had soothed the ache.

“It’s sweet, that he has a place here.”

Not that he’d ever used it.

There was no reason for saying so. He was using it now, even if it was unexpected.

Charlie kicked off his shoes with flair and rolled around on the bed. “What movies do we got?”

After a quick debate, he chose The Tales of Despereaux. Killian started the movie, his heart swelling as he turned around and found Charlie already snuggling with a stuffed monster from Monster’s Inc. “Your mom and I are gonna be right out here, okay?”

Already engrossed in the movie, Charlie waved him off. “Okay, bye.”

Killian hated to make his son watch a movie five minutes after seeing him, but he and Emma were going to have a serious Come To Jesus, and their son needed to be sheltered from it.

He found Emma sitting primly at the kitchen table, a glass of water in front of her and her purse slung over the arm of the chair. The luggage, he noted, had been shifted to sit next to the couch. She waved him into the opposite chair, as if she were a queen bestowing a peasant the honor of her presence. He sat, because if he didn’t, he might go into the kitchen and find something to throw at her.

“What the hell, Emma?”

“Charlie missed you,” she said simply, as if that were all the explanation needed for why she’d broken a nearly six-year-long agreement to not pull this shit. “And I was sick of you blowing off his calls and visits.”

“I call back when I miss one of his. And one visit, Emma. One f*cking visit.”

“Don’t use that word when he’s around,” she warned, but Killian sliced a hand through the air.

“You’re one to talk about rules. Sneaking around, breaking our own agreement? Nice co-parenting style you’ve got there, Emma.”

“You were—”

“The season is busy for me. Always has been. Always will be. It’s my job. And I’ve got a freaking reporter dogging my heels until the end of the regular season. You thought now, of all times, was the best opportunity to show me up?”

She bit her bottom lip for a moment, but he didn’t buy the innocent act. She was a good mom, a great one. And she’d been easy to work with in regards to Charlie’s custody and parenting. But something was up, and he wasn’t about to let her get away with just violating the rules so easily.

“I need some time off.”

Time off. “What, like a vacation? You want a vacation? For God’s sake, Emma.” He sat back and let his hands fall to the table. “You couldn’t have told me that on the phone? Two weeks from now, you can take a month off. You know I’ve never said no when you wanted a long weekend or a trip or whatever. As long as I could swing it, I’ve always said yes. I’ve always come up to stay with him when you wanted to go to a conference or see your mom out in Portland.”

Her eyes shifted to the side, and he saw how tired they were. “It’s not a long weekend, Killian. It’s . . . I need just some time off. I’m full-time mommy, full-time real estate agent, and . . .” She blew out a breath. “I’m seeing someone.”

That took him by surprise. “Oh.”

“He’s really nice,” she rushed on to say. “He’s forty-five, a mortgage broker. No kids of his own, but he’s good with Charlie. They’ve met a few times, but I’ve only told Charlie he was my friend.” She smiled a little. “It’s not serious yet, but I hope it will be. He wanted to take me away for a week and when you weren’t being plugged in, I just panicked. I’m sorry.”

“A mortgage broker.” He smiled at the job title, something so completely commonplace. The total opposite of his job. “That’s good, Emma.” She was nearly ten years his senior, and he’d wondered as she approached forty, if she would ever want to find a man and marry. Maybe have another child or two. He didn’t begrudge her the opportunity, and jealousy had no place in their relationship. They’d never been in love. But . . . “Does he know?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. Blonde tendrils of her professional twisting updo fell around her ears and she pushed them back. “He knows Charlie’s father lives out of state and sees him when he can, and that we were never married or anything. But not, you know, details.”

The details were potentially a deal breaker for anyone. “Emma, I don’t wanna tell you how to run your life but—”

“I know, Killian.” Her voice hardened. “I know. If he’s not the guy for me, I’ll figure it out before I share that little tidbit. If he is, then he won’t hold my past against me.”

Fear was like a struggling worm against a hook in his heart. It was all he could do not to reach across the table, grip her arms, and beg her not to say a word to anyone. For Charlie. But on the same side of the coin . . .