Ask Me Why(44)

He straightens off the fender and crosses his arms. “How long have you been holding that in?”

“The entire ride over here.”

“Don’t pretend to be mad.” His placating tone grates on my already shot nerves.

I flare my nostrils and force out a cleansing breath. “I’m beyond livid. Thanks for using Ollie against me.”

“Oh, this was entirely his idea.” He points to the restaurant, which appears warm and inviting in front of us. I feel the complete opposite.

“Why am I not surprised,” I mutter.

“Your son had the right idea.”

I exaggerate my snort. “Hey, broken record. We’ve already been over this. And countless times at that.”

Jordan scuffs his shoe over the concrete. “My pestering has been proven effective.”

“Yet my decision remains the same.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

My chuckle is pitch black. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“It’s served me well.”

Ollie crashes into me, wrapping his arms around my leg. “Daddy?”

I pin Jordan with a glare before smoothing my features. “Yeah, buddy?”

“Are you done arguing?”

I swallow the ball of frustration aimed at my friend. All Ollie will see is a strained smile. “Yes. Jordan is being goofy garbage.”

My son gasps. “Uncle Jordy, stop being stinky.”

He holds up a palm. “I’ll take a shower later.”

His response seems to appease Ollie and provides a detour out of this conversation.

“No woman worth keeping will stick around if you smell bad. And we know how bad you want a girlfriend.” I paste on a grin with my advice.

Jordan barks out a laugh. “You’re digging in the dirt, man.”

I grip his shoulder. “Quit making it easy on me.”

He rolls his eyes. “This isn’t over.”

“We’ll see,” I mutter.

“Can we go inside? Please?” My son yanks at my jeans.

I run my thumb down his smooth cheek. “Of course, little man. Lead the way.”

Ollie runs to the entrance without a beat of hesitation. Jordan and I follow close behind, chewing on his dust. I open the heavy metal door and usher them inside. The restaurant appears low key, which isn’t surprising at four o’clock on a Sunday. Five Square is a causal joint that we frequent often enough. Ollie goes bonkers for the sorry excuse of an arcade they have hidden in a back corner.

The women are waiting in the lobby, chattering away. Their conversation comes to an abrupt end when they catch sight of us. Sadie is directing a blinding smile at Jordan, which he returns in spades. Braelyn holds up a hand, and Ollie slaps their palms together. I stand off to the side, already counting the minutes until this disaster is over.

How in the hell did I get roped into this? It smells like shit is about to hit the fan. And here I am, plowing in with my eyes wide open.

I glance around for the most accessible exits. On the plus side, there appears to be several. More importantly, the bathroom is easy to find along the far wall. The bar is separated from the dining area. I’m tempted to down a few shots of something strong before attempting to survive this family-style meal. That should take the edge off.

“Come on,” Jordan says. “I’ll buy you a beer at the table.”

Fucker knows me too well. I offer a grunt and trudge behind him to a circular five-top. Usually Ollie prefers sitting in a booth, but I don’t comment. Nothing about this situation is what I’m accustomed to. I’ll let him handle this oversight on his own.

Without pause, he snags a chair in the middle. “Will you sit by me, Miss Braelyn?”

A belt cinches around my chest at his words. My son is too damn attached to this woman. What’s going to happen when she inevitably fucks us over? I scrub my forehead, unable to process the clusterfuck it will cause.

Sadie and Jordan settle in, leaving me the other spot next to Ollie. I wedge myself into the tight space with a grunt. The rickety chair almost topples under my weight. I bang my elbow in an effort to remain upright and not fall ass over backward. That’d be extremely fitting for the occasion.

Jordan coughs into his fist. “Smooth, dude. Keep that shit up. You’re making me look like a rockstar.”

I almost punch him in the arm. “Don’t curse in front of Ollie.”

He has the decency to wince. “My bad, sorry. But little man is totally distracted.”

I follow his line of sight and find Ollie immersed in a coloring project. His tongue pops out from the corner of his mouth. Concentration crinkles his forehead. The red crayon in his hand moves at breakneck pace.

“Whatcha making, buddy?” I lean in for a better look.

He lifts his eyes to my face. “A dinosaur, duh.”

I laugh at his no-nonsense tone. “I like his horns. Very scary.”

“Those are teeth,” he corrects.

“Ah, right. The better for him to eat with.” What am I saying? There’s a sharp thorn cutting into my hip, stabbing deeper with every subtle movement. Having Braelyn so close is messing with my mojo. I’m losing cool-points by the second.

Ollie’s pinched expression reflects my thoughts. “Um, sure, Daddy. He’s having a salad for dinner.”