“Ugh. It was an accident, Dad.”
Paige stands at the edge of the mess and grins. “Yeah, Dad.”
I smirk. “Doesn’t have the same effect as Daddy.”
“I will never call you that seriously,” she says, laughing.
Ryder plants his hands on the island. “Why would Paige Stage call you Dad? Are we adopting her?”
Paige giggles as a burst of laughter falls from my mouth. Oops.
“Didn’t I already explain that I can’t be adopted again?” she asks him. “I have a mom and a dad.”
“Oh.” Ryder tilts his head to the side and watches me brush the sugar from the counters onto the floor. “Well, that’s good, I guess.”
Paige pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Hey, speaking of my mom, this is her. I’ll be right back.” She disappears around the corner.
I sweep the sugar into a pile and then onto the dustpan. It takes a solid four loads to get it into the trash can. There will be sugar crystals lurking for a week.
Ryder climbs across the counter and grabs two spoons. He entertains himself by using them as drumsticks against the island.
I think back to the text I got from Troy earlier today, asking me if I wanted to hang out with him and his brother Travis to watch a game tonight. I happily told him no.
There’s nowhere else I want to be other than here with Paige and Ryder. It’s wild. Will I ever want to hang out with them again? Sure. But right now, all I want is in these four walls.
Dinnertime has gone from being my least favorite hour of the day to my favorite one. It used to be a chore. We were both tired from the day, hungry, and thinking about doing other things. But now it’s fun. Paige and Ryder have dance contests. They look up random facts about whatever we’re making or plan out the next night’s menu together.
It’s fun. It’s easy. It’s natural.
Maybe we’re a family in the making.
I grin.
“Sorry about that,” Paige says, coming back into the kitchen. “Wow. You work fast.”
“Or you talked long to avoid having to help me,” I tease.
She gasps. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“I would,” Ryder deadpans.
Paige snorts. “So what do you want me to do?”
Ride my cock. She must read my thoughts because she waggles her eyebrows. I have to turn away before things start to spiral.
“Get the chicken out of the fridge for me,” I say as I pull out the spices. “Was your mom good?”
“Yeah. She’s coming to town next weekend. She wants to meet Hollis.” She opens the fridge and takes out the chicken. “Would, um, would you want to meet her?”
I set the paprika down. Wow. Okay. I exhale.
I look at her over my shoulder. She’s nibbling her bottom lip and looking at me like she might either take off running or burst into tears.
“Do you want me to?” I ask her.
She pauses, holding my gaze for so long that I’m not sure what she’s going to say. The silence causes my stomach to twist into a painful knot.
Finally, she frees her lip. “Yes. I would. If you want to, that is.”
I reach for her, then stop. Ryder.
She nods as if she understands.
We’re going to have to readdress the Ryder situation. This not touching her stuff isn’t going to work much longer.
My spirits soar at her admission that she would like me to meet her mother. For Paige, I think that’s huge. And I’m certain this is a good sign.
“I would love to meet as many people in your life as you’d let me,” I tell her.
She heaves a breath, looking relieved. Did she consider that I might say no? Silly girl.
Paige sets the chicken on the counter, lingering next to it.
“So,” she says, “I had another call while I was talking to Mom.”
I raise a brow. “From who?”
She taps the counter before walking around the island next to Ryder. I turn as she moves, following her with my eyes. What’s she getting at?
“I looked at an apartment the other day with Kinsley,” she says carefully, playing with Ryder’s hair. “The lady called me back to offer me a lease.”
She fucking what?
If the paprika was still in my hand, I would’ve dropped it.
“A lease?” I ask. “For what?”
She swallows. “Well, to live there. I don’t know what other kind of leases there are besides a car lease, and I don’t need one of those.”
I don’t say anything to her. She can’t be serious.
“It’s pretty cheap,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “And in a super-safe neighborhood, which is great. It’s a one-bedroom, so no more roommate crap to deal with, and it’s above a little coffee shop that has the best—”
“Paige.”
When she finally looks into my eyes, I see what’s going on.
She’s scared.
She doesn’t know what I’m going to say or what I expect her to do. We’ve never specifically addressed this issue—which is stupid in retrospect. It never occurred to me because, in my head, she’ll never leave. But in her head, the person who doesn’t live here, of course she’d be right to worry. I never offered her a permanent place here.