Not Broken: The Happily Ever After(12)

“There’s my man.”

I immediately took Shawn from Ginger when I opened the door. He squealed in delight. When I reached up to close the door, Ginger flinched, almost as if she were bracing for impact. I tried not to let her reaction bother me. I wanted us to have a good time tonight.

She stepped away and turned to face the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. I kept the blinds open most of the time so I could take in the city view.

“This place fits you perfectly. Twenty-four-hour concierge, no maintenance to worry about. And this view. Are you going to miss it?”

“The view? Yeah. When I toured it, the polished concrete floors and exposed brick were my favorite features, but the view, that’s what sold me on this place.” I put Shawn down on the white, shag rug that sat beneath my black leather sofa. “But it’s time to move on. This place is more bachelor pad, and that’s not who I am anymore.”

Ginger looked back over her shoulder in my direction, but made no comment.

“I ordered pizza, should be here shortly.”

“That’s fine.” She walked over and took a seat on the sofa, and pulled some toys out of the diaper bag. “So, what movie are we watching?”

I gave her a large smile. “Despicable Me Two.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen the first one.”

“Really? You’ve been missing out. This is cinema movie greatness.”

A knock on the door interrupted her response. She slid onto the floor to play with Shawn while I paid the delivery person.

“How are you not big as a house with all the takeout you eat?” She asked as I carried the pizza box into my small kitchen.

“Lots of vigorous physical activity.” I replied with a wink.

“Malcolm!” Her face turned red, and her eyes widened. “I don’t know if you’re the kind of influence I need around Shawn with comments like that.” She picked up the portable high chair. Still wearing a disapproving frown, she carried it over to the table.

I grabbed two plates from the cabinet. “What are you talking about? I’m an excellent role model. I’ve been teaching him all the finer points of picking up the ladies, and let me tell you, the kid is a natural.”

Shawn walked over to us. I leaned down and picked him up, ruffled his hair, and got his bubbly laughter in response.

“Malcolm Frankel! Tell me you have not used my son to pick up women?” Her hands rested on her slender hips as she glared at me.

“What? Me? Never,” I replied in mock innocence as I fastened Shawn into his high chair. “Buddy, we may have to cancel those clubbing plans tonight. I think she’s on to us.”

Ginger rolled her eyes as she took her seat. She tried to look angry, but I spotted a smile on her face. The scene before me was one I could get used to. Us sitting, having dinner like a family, I could do this every day. She made me want this. I watched as she cut up pieces of the slice into a manageable bite-size for Shawn. She brushed the hair from his face before giving him his dinner. We talked about random things. The atmosphere was relaxed, just as it should be with us.

After dinner, Ginger cleaned up Shawn, who’d managed to get pizza sauce all over his face and clothes. I wasn’t sure how much food the boy actually consumed, but he was a funny sight smiling brightly, with pizza sauce turning his face red. He even had some in his hair. She carried him off to the bathroom, and I put away the leftovers then got the movie ready.

Forty-five minutes into the movie, Shawn fell asleep. He was laid out, spread eagle, on the rug surrounded by the CD cases he’d pulled down to play with. Apparently, my carefully organized music collection made for a better toy than the items his mother travelled with.

“I should take him home.”

“Aww, you’re gonna make me watch Gru and the minions alone? Not to mention I’m gonna have to spend hours of my life reorganizing my CD—”

“What? You told me it was okay when I tried to stop him.”

“I’m joking, Ginger. It really isn’t that big of a deal.”

I reached out, letting my finger trace the outline of her jaw. I wanted to kiss her, but stopped, recalling the look on her face at the house. She’d look nervous, or scared. I couldn’t tell which, but I knew neither was a good option. Then she’d flinched when I went to open her car door. That same nervous look was all over her face now. I dropped my hand.

She stood. “I really should go.”

“How long will I face this?” I stood as she had. “Because I’m more than prepared to knock that damn wall down brick by brick.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I want us, Ginger. I want us to work. I want more nights like this one, the three of us together.” I stepped closer to her.

She put her hands on my chest, pushing me back. Keeping me at a distance.

“Mal…”

“I know, you need time, and I can give you that, but what I can’t and won’t do is continue to be kept at a distance. I let you do that for two years. I respected that you needed time to heal and that you’d rather do it alone than let me help you, but now…” I wrapped my hands around her wrists. “You just have to give me, give us a chance. A real chance. That’s all I’m asking.”

She looked up at me but said nothing. Her eyes closed briefly, I saw the rise and fall of her chest as she took in a slow breath. She pulled her hands free of mine and stepped away.