Having him around for the last two weeks had made my life a hundred times easier, including tonight when I had taken a stupid amount of time to get ready for my date with Yates Caldwell.
I stood in the hallway and smoothed the front of my black dress. “Are you sure? I’m worried maybe this isn’t the right outfit. I feel like I’m giving off a little bit of a corporate vibe.”
His eyebrows went up as he chewed. “Have you looked in the mirror? You look hot.” He set down his sandwich and gestured to my chest. “That is not what I imagine when I think office environment. But if that’s the case, sign me up. I’ll work for the man with that kind of view.”
I glanced down at my cleavage. It did look a little different in this dress than it did pre-baby. My tits were spilling up and over. “Should I change?”
“Why?”
Because I was panicking. “I don’t know. Because I haven’t been on a date in over a year.”
“You don’t need to change. You look amazing.” Maddox bounced Sully up and down. “Right, buddy? Mommy looks amazing.”
Sully was looking at me like he knew I had a plan to go out and prioritize a man over him. His nose was wrinkling and his lip was starting to tremble. “Oh, God, he knows I’m going out. He looks like he’s about to start wailing.” I put my hand on my stomach, the pit already there growing. “I feel guilty.”
“Don’t feel guilty. You’re entitled to a life,” Maddox said. “We’ll be fine. We’ll have guy time. Now leave before he loses it entirely. Seriously, run.”
He was right. Sully was winding up to let out a serious cry, his arms stretching forward for me. “Oh, ugh!” I ran up to Sully and kissed him. “Bye, baby, I love you.”
“Have fun,” Maddox said.
Sully launched himself at me, like a skydiver jumping out of the plane. Full trust, arms spread like a flying squirrel. Fortunately, Maddox had a good grip on him and he didn’t fall, though Sully did manage to grab the strap of my dress.
I wrested it out of his hand, but not before my tit well and truly popped out. It just sprang forth like it couldn’t wait to get out of the tight dress and be useful. I stumbled back, tucking it away, flustered as hell. Mostly because my child was now screaming for me and I felt like a jerk mom. But also, because it seemed on the daily my relationship with Maddox became more and more… intimate. We lived together well, with zero conflicts. We had a routine, a rhythm, a friendship that was easy and surprising.
Yet, he didn’t seem to want anything beyond that. Once or twice, I’d thought he was holding back, but at moments like this, he seemed completely neutral about me. He didn’t react to my nip slip at all. He said things like “You look amazing,” with sincerity but no more sexual interest than say, Isla.
Which was great. That was the way things were supposed to be. It was exactly what I had asked him for—a friendship with no flirtation. He was a platonic friend and my nanny and I was going out with Yates Caldwell, who ticked all of my boxes.
It didn’t matter that on a regular basis I looked at Maddox and wanted him to take me against a wall and make me feel like a woman again.
Not going to happen. It would be messy and complicated and he didn’t appear to want me anyway.
“He’s going to think you’re amazing,” Maddox said. “Trust me.”
His words shattered my thoughts about climbing onto his cock.
I grabbed my purse and ran in heels to the door. “Bye, thanks, Mad!”
Yates Caldwell was as good-looking as his photo, that was true.
But he was no Prince Charming. He was literally the opposite of Prince Charming. He was Sir Dickhead, overlord of the land of pompous pricks.
And for me to say that? He was not nice. Very, very bad.
I sat across from him at a bar in the Financial District after he had refused to come to Brooklyn because he was “really fucking committed with some things at work” and needed to stay close to his office. Even though, you know, I had a baby. In Brooklyn. But I was willing to be optimistic and chalk it up to tone is off in text messages sometimes.
That was just the beginning. A teeny tiny red flag.
Once there, I ordered some calamari and a soda, but he had waved off the food menu and was on his second dirty martini. He didn’t really attempt to make conversation. He just glanced around the restaurant and made rude observations about the other patrons, and labeled the service slow. After the waitress brought my calamari and retreated, he watched her walking.
“God, she could use a nose job,” he said. “I feel compelled to tip her well so she can save up for plastic surgery.”
I blinked, shocked speechless. “I… I don’t imagine she needs your opinion,” I finally managed. “Especially not an unkind one.”
He looked at me like he was surprised. “I wasn’t going to say that to her, but come on, it’s not like she doesn’t know she’s ugly as shit.”
I bit a piece of calamari, hard, wondering if I could get the check and get out, now, while I still had some faith in humanity. Yet at the same time I hesitated to call the waitress over in case she had heard anything Yates had said.