The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(65)

“You saw that?”

Troy nods. “Yeah, it was cool. Even if it was the wrong sport.”

“Hmm, I still have it somewhere. It says ‘Mommy’s Little Slugger’ on the front. I saved a few of my favorites to have a quilt made one day.”

“That’s cool,” Troy says, his eyes still on the screen. We watch one video after another. He’s completely smitten with Dante, and it’s so easy to see from the expression he’s wearing. I’m drawn into a video when Troy cups my chin turning me to face him. “Thank you for this. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

I fight the quiver in my lip as I try and find the right words. Pausing the video, I turn to face him fully. “I’m so sorry. I know it will never be enough. But I am. You should’ve been there. You should have had the chance to be there. I had no right to take this away from you. I hope one day you will forgive me. I hope,” a tear I can’t hold spills over and slides down my cheek. “I hope one day I can forgive myself.”

Softly, he runs his knuckles down my face. “I could’ve fought harder. I could have tried to talk to you instead of being such a fucking creeper.”

“I was scary.”

“So fucking scary,” he chuckles, catching another tear with the stroke of his fingers. “We both did unforgivable shit. It’s time to let it go.”

“Do you mean that?” I hear the shake in my voice when he nods.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick lately.”

“I can’t stop thinking about the look on your mother’s face. I’m…I feel terrible.”

“It’s time to move on.”

“I would love that,” I place my hand over his where it rests on my face. “Are we okay?”

“We’re okay,” he murmurs, sliding his hand down to push the hair off my shoulders.

“He was a gift. You know? I never saw more for my life than being a teacher. I had no fancy plans other than that. I’m living my dream, Troy. It might not seem like much of one, but I’ve wanted to teach since I was a little girl and having our son, I think it made me a better pupil, and hopefully a better teacher. You deserve to live your dream too,” I say as he traces my jaw with a finger. “You’re so insanely talented. You’ll make it, I know you will.”

“Now, I’ve got an even better reason to make it happen.” He runs a hand down my arm, and I visibly shiver. His brow lifts.

“Like that, did you?”

“Maybe.”

He moves his hand back up before gently brushing his fingertips along my collar bone, and I shiver again.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, watching me intently. “You’re so responsive.”

“I remember that night,” I blurt. “When you asked me if I ever thought about it, I was embarrassed to tell you just how often I did. I still do.”

“Me too.”

“I think in a way, I hurt myself the day I showed up to your school. I built it up in my mind, the idea of you and me. I’d hoped that maybe you would be happy about the baby. About seeing me and…”

“It didn’t go down like that at all.”

“Not at all. But I do remember, Troy. And that night was…”

“Fucking amazing,” his voice drops as he cups the back of my head, and we both draw closer.

“Back then, we were a news at eleven headline waiting to happen.”

“But we aren’t now.”

“Not now, no,” I say breathlessly.

We’re close. My nipples draw tight beneath my sweater as his eyes rake over my face. “No more Brett?”

I bite my lip and turn my head back and forth.

“Why?”

“He wasn’t for me.”

“Any particular reason?” We’re a breath apart, my body completely alive, wired, the pull too much to ignore.

Parker’s voice has us both jumping back.

“Sausages. I bought them.” The condiments clink together as she jerks open the fridge. “I bought Summer Sausage. Who ate it?” A second later, Parker enters the living room in nothing but slippers and a long T-shirt, her phone in her hand. “Why is it so dark in here? Are y’all watching Love Island?”

“Oh, Lord. It’s an Ambien sleepwalk.” I hang my head and stand before I make my way toward her. “Come on, babe, let’s get you back to bed.”

Parker turns to me speaking as if she’s not in a prescription-induced coma. “Do you smell pickles? Ohhhh, let’s go to Target.”

Troy chuckles, and I meet his eyes over her shoulder while turning her back in the direction of my bedroom. “I better go strap her into bed.”

The looks we exchange are filled with need. And in his eyes, I see the promise of something more.

“I’ll see myself out. Night, pretty woman.”

“Night, neighbor.”





Kim’s NO-BAKE Billionaire Pie

Psychologist, Wisconsin



Makes 8 servings





20 minutes


2 Cups Powdered Sugar

1 Stick Butter





1 Large Egg


1/4 Tsp. Salt