Spin My Love (My Love #1)(23)

We eat the rest of the meal in silence.

“Thanks for dinner,” Tane says when he’s finished. “I’ll clean up since you cooked.”

“It’s okay—” I try to protest, but he starts collecting the plates and taking them to the kitchen. He empties the plates, rinses them, and loads them into the dishwasher, then he wipes down the counter and puts the rest of the food away.

I can’t help but find it strange to see Tane Miller cleaning my kitchen while I sit at the table with our son. I mean, seventeen-year-old me would have been fantasising about this very moment … I guess she just wouldn’t have considered all the baggage and complications that the fantasy would come with.

“I’ll give Parker a bath,” I say, standing up.

”I’ll give him a bath. Why don’t you relax for a little while?”

“Tane—”

“I have a lot of making up to do. Can’t you just let me feel useful for a little while? Please?”

“Well, when you put it like that …” I mumble.

His green eyes sparkle. “Come on, Parker, let’s give you a bath and get you ready for bed.”

Parker slides off the chair and follows behind his father.

“His towel and pyjamas are hanging on his door,” I call out.

Looks like this co-parenting thing isn’t going so bad after all.

*****

Tane

Time to handle this shit. The next day I pick up my phone, ready to sort this whole situation out.

I dial her number after I get it from Giselle. It rings three times before she answers.

“Hello,” she says.

“Keira, it’s me, Tane, from the other—”

“Oh, hey, Tane,” she says, cutting me off. “I was wondering when you’d call.” I’m guessing that saccharine tone was supposed to come across as seductive, but it makes me grind my teeth in annoyance. When I met her at a bar and she’d suggested we go back to her place, I’d thought why the hell not?

I’d take it back if I could.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Look, I had no idea you were Levi’s sister and that you knew Giselle,” I start off by saying. I try to continue but she cuts me off again.

“Well, I did tell you I was Levi’s sister, but I guess you were preoccupied.” Her voice goes low and I want to laugh at her suggestive tone. I wasn’t preoccupied; I was bored.

“Anyway, I’m really sorry for leading you on or whatever, and I hope we can be friends,” I say. I don’t really mean it, but I figure I could try for Parker. I know he loves Justin.

“Friends?” she asks incredulously.

“Giselle told me you wouldn’t let Justin hang out with them, and I was hoping you’d change your mind,” I say, hating having to suck up to her.

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t want Giselle’s negative energy to affect Justin.” What the f*ck does that even mean?

“Parker really misses Justin, and I bet Justin feels the same.” The silence tells me that it’s true. “And look, it keeps your Saturdays free to go out and do your own thing. I bet you could use the break.” I doubt she puts one-tenth of the effort into raising her son as Giselle does, but I need to make this better.

“It is tiring,” she admits. “Okay, fine. But if I hear of anything shady happening, the play dates end.”

“Everything will be fine, Keira,” I say soothingly. “Thank you.”

“So, are we going to hook up again?” she asks. The suddenness with which she changes the subject surprises me.

“No,” I say. “Just friends.”

I want to tell her no way in hell, because I’m in love with Giselle, and I won’t be touching anyone else. But then she will probably retract letting Justin come over.

“Friends can f*ck,” she says bluntly. I cringe.

“Not these friends,” I say. “I gotta go, thanks. I’ll tell Giselle to pick Justin up on Saturday.” I hang up, not able to endure that woman’s tenacity any longer.





Chapter Eleven

One month later Giselle

I puff out a sigh as he keeps staring at me. “Excuse me.”

He doesn’t move. “Just one date.”

I purse my lips and lift my face to look at him properly. Not bad looking, maybe thirty. This is the third time he’s asked me out. He seems nice, but his persistence is a bit grating.

“I’m sorry,” I reply, shaking my head, embarrassment heating my cheeks. A few people are looking at our exchange.

“Are you taken?” he asks, looking at my hand. For a ring, maybe? I want to laugh. My ring finger has seen less action than a nun.

“No, I’m not taken. But I’m not looking to date anyone right now,” I lie, trying to get him off my back. I force a smile and try to walk past him when he gently holds my wrist. Not in an aggressive way, but still, he has no right touching me. I tug my wrist out of his hold, and put my hand up.

“I’m sorry, but the answer is no,” I tell him in a stern tone. He needs to know I’m not playing any games, trying to act hard-to-get, or whatever. And no means no.

“Do we have a problem here?” an ice-cold voice comes from behind me.