Unbreak My Heart(59)

We reach our building and go inside.

“Did you win big tonight?” he asks once we’re in our apartment.

I shrug and smile. “Don’t know. But we fought valiantly. Are you hungry? Want me to cook some scrambled eggs with rosemary country potatoes?”

He pats his flat belly on his trim frame. “I’m still stuffed from the sandwich you made earlier.”

I gesture to his room. “Big day tomorrow. Go put your violin away and get ready for bed. We’re leaving to take you to camp at seven thirty sharp.”

He salutes me on the way to his room.

A few minutes later, Kyle has brushed his teeth, washed his face, and is reading his biography of Mariano Rivera. I park myself on the edge of his twin bed and knock on the book’s spine. “Good guy or bad guy?”

Kyle only reads books about sports stars if he deems them good guys, so I know the answer, but I ask anyway because I like knowing what’s in his head. For now, since he hasn’t hit puberty with a vengeance, he usually tells me what’s on his mind. “Definitely a good guy. He’s also the greatest closer of all time.”

I’m not even a sports fan, but I know that. “Six hundred fifty career saves isn’t too shabby.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“From one to another.” I tap his forehead. “Did you take your headache meds?”

He gives me a thumbs-up.

“Good.” I give him a kiss and say good night. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too, Mom.”



When I retreat to my room, I find a message from Roxy on my phone.



Roxy: We won, but it was by the hair of our chinny-chin-chins! It was super close—we need to be tighter next time. Also, all this could be yours.



The screen fills with an image and tingles zip down my body. Damn, that man is dangerously handsome, especially with the intensity in his eyes as he plays that instrument.

I sigh happily. I’m so checking him out.

What’s the harm? He’s likely in some band that’s making a one-night-only appearance at The Grouchy Owl, like many of the bands that play there do. I’ll probably never see him again. Unless you count later tonight in my dreams. Because that face and those hands are definitely fodder for a good night fantasy.

Besides, fantasies are the only times I’ve had any action lately, and by lately, I mean years.