“I was leery about putting it out there I was interested in younger women, because I don’t want to be a creepy older guy, but I really want a family. After my wife passed away I put my head down and just worked. Then one day I woke up and I was forty.” He shrugged. “That’s selfish, I know it is, because women can’t do the same thing. But I want to be honest.”
“Age is just a number,” I said, even as I wondered if I believed that. If I did, I wouldn’t point to Maddox’s age as a reason I couldn’t be with him. It clearly did matter to me.
I stared across the table at Michael and realized I had exactly zero clue what the hell I was doing in my dating life.
“Taste this,” I said, lifting my spoon to Maddox’s lips as he held Sully. “Does it need more salt?”
He obediently opened his mouth and took the pesto. He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. It’s good.”
It was the night after my dinner with Michael and I was making dinner the way I normally did. Maddox and I had fallen into a routine. During the week, I made dinner, we hung out with the baby, talked, watched TV, put Sully down. Then had sex before I retreated to my bedroom. Everything about it was easy, unlike staring across the restaurant table at a stranger. Michael had texted me a very thoughtful “just wanted to make sure you got home okay” text the night before, which I’d answered because only a bitch wouldn’t acknowledge that.
But then he had texted me again that afternoon and I hadn’t responded. I wasn’t feeling it, even though he was the stuff of rom-coms. He was “hold his umbrella in the rain for you” guy. And yet… no sparks.
I turned and my hip bumped Maddox’s. Huh. What a shocker I wasn’t into a perfectly polite stranger when I had a hot muscular tattoo artist/nanny giving it to me every night, right?
So ridiculous.
“Hey, I wanted to let you know in three weeks I need to go back home for the weekend. It’s my mom’s birthday.”
“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” Was that disappointment I felt? That I would lose a weekend with him? Isla was going to shake me if she found out my inner thoughts.
“Oh, and I got you some ice cream on my way home.” Maddox wasn’t looking at me. He was making faces at Sully, who kept reaching for his lips. Maddox pretended to eat Sully’s fingers, making my son laugh.
I opened the fridge after stirring the pesto over the chicken I’d whipped up. There it was. Caramel Core ice cream. My favorite. “You’re the best.”
“I know.” He ran his gaze over me.
I tried to ignore the fact that all he had to do was look at me and I melted like ice cream left out overnight. “Didn’t you get some for yourself?”
“Nope. I’m off sugar. Need to stay in shape.”
“Your shape is fine.”
“You say that now but when a month goes by and I have a gut you’re going to change your mind. Admit it, you like my body.”
“I never said I didn’t. But you’re more than your body.” I did mean that. Maddox was a good man.
“I’m just kidding. I work out for me. I like the way I feel when I’m pushing my body to perform.”
“When did you start working out? I don’t remember you looking like anything other than a standard lanky teenager.”
“Seventeen. I wanted to be strong enough to really control a motorcycle and it just spiraled from there.” He looked in the pan. “Are we ready to eat? I’ll strap Sully into his seat.”
“Ready.” I dished up the food and brought it to my coffee table turned dining table. “It would be nice one day to have an actual table.”
“That’s hard in New York. Space is at a premium.”
“Very. I don’t see myself moving anytime soon either. Though I could get one of those tables that hangs on the wall and you take it down at mealtime.”
“I’m not sure where you’d put it. Sully has taken over the living room with his stuff.”
It was true. It was also true that it was nice to talk to someone about the everyday mundane stuff. Living alone with Sully had been different. Sure, I’d talked out loud to my son, but he couldn’t weigh in on simple things like furniture placement. I was going to miss the companionship when Maddox was gone.
Yes, I was going to miss the sex, but we had become really good friends. “What are you getting your mom for her birthday?” I asked.
“Me. I’m coming home. That’s her gift.”
I laughed. “You can’t be serious! That’s sweet, but not a gift.”