Fumbled (Playbook #2)(63)

“I was thinking you and Ace could move in with me,” he finishes, looking as hopeful as Ace does every time he asks to play football or to get a puppy.

Neither of which will ever happen.

“We can’t move in with you.” I don’t try to soften my answer.

“Yes, you can. My house is huge. Ace already has friends down the street.” He starts ticking off the items on the list he must have built in his head. “It’s actually in a safe neighborhood.”

I think not.

“This is a great neighborhood, thank you very much.” I pull my hands out of his grip. “And I don’t care how many reasons you have why we should move in with you, it’s not going to happen.

“School starts in a week, the same school he’s attended since preschool. The soccer field for the soccer team he just made is right around the corner. His best friend lives at the end of this block.” I resist the urge to shake TK, I’m so irritated to even be having this conversation. “This is the only home Ace has ever known. I might not be the perfect mom, but I pride myself on providing him with this kind of stability.” TK starts to speak, but I keep talking. “I’m sure your house is amazing. Bigger and newer than this one, but that’s not the point. We cannot uproot his life. Especially now, when he’s still adjusting to the crazy bombshells that were dropped on him this summer.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you. This is a great house and I told you Gavin pretty much lives next door when they’re in town, so I know it’s not a bad neighborhood. I don’t know why I said that,” he half apologizes, which I guess is better than no apology at all.

“It’s fine. I might say things I don’t mean occasionally too.”

This makes him laugh for some reason.

“Occasionally?” He reaches for my hands again and pulls me into his chest.

“Maybe more than that,” I amend, fighting back my own laughter.

My temper has always been a bit—how should I describe it?—touchy.

“I’d say so,” he whispers into my hair.

We stand in my bathroom, cuddled together for what could be hours but is probably only a few minutes. Both of us taking comfort in the other, letting the weird emotions we’ve both been feeling settle around us. I’d worry Ace would start to get concerned . . . or grossed out . . . but he has full remote access and probably hasn’t even realized we’re gone.

“Well.” TK’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “If you won’t move in with me, I guess I’m gonna have to move here.”

My head is facing the mirror, so I get a firsthand view of my eyes tripling in size and the color draining from my face.

“Y-you . . . you’ll move? Here?” I stutter. A speech pattern, I’m learning, is becoming a staple of mine around TK.

“Yeah.” He looks at me like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “At least until all this stuff with the light and flowers is worked out. It’ll be great. Ace can stay in his house and school. I can spend more time with both of you. You won’t have to be alone here. And I won’t have to worry.”

“Yeah . . . it’ll be great,” I repeat after him.

But I don’t know if it will be great.

Playing house is a long ways away from the “enjoy him while I have him” vision I had planned. I want him and Ace to bond and have a relationship. What I don’t want is to become dependent and hooked to a situation that’s bound to fail.

And if last night was any indication, this is going to leave me completely and utterly screwed . . . in more ways than one.





Twenty-six




“He what?” Vonnie damn near shouts, drawing the attention of the table behind her.

“He moved in.” I slide another martini in front of her and a glass of red wine in front of Charli. “Last Monday.”

“Last Monday?” Now Charli’s shouting. “As in seven full days ago and you’re just now telling us?”

“It all happened really fast.” I shrug, not wanting to go into full detail in a room full of strangers.

“She just told you about TK?” Sadie slides her rhinestone-encrusted butt onto the barstool next to Vonnie, pointing a hot-pink acrylic nail my way. “Did she tell you about the maybe stalker she has?”

“What?” Vonnie and Charli scream in unison.

I narrow my eyes at Sadie before turning to both Vonnie and Charli. “I don’t have a stalker.” I try to calm them down. “I know you just met her, but Sadie is very dramatic. Always keep that in mind when listening to one of her stories.”

“I do have a certain flair for the dramatics,” Sadie agrees. Then, as if to prove my point, she raises a fist above her head before opening it and letting glitter rain down on her. I roll my eyes, thinking about how much longer it’s going to take me to sweep up tonight. Vonnie and Charli, however, stare at her with wide-eyed wonder, like a child seeing Santa Claus . . . or me if I ever meet Beyoncé. “But, and correct me if I’m wrong here, Poppy, but someone who is not TK did drop off a giant bouquet of flowers on your doorstep, right?”

“Well, yeah but—” I say, but Sadie cuts me off before I can continue.

“And the note in the flowers didn’t have a name, right?” she asks even though she already knows the damn answer.