The Godparent Trap

He cared. He actually cared. And after a lifetime of disastrous dates where guys would be on Tinder while sitting across from me during dinner or, worse, asking about my ten-year plan—he never did that. Sure he made fun of my job, and he drove me crazy, but when he was talking to me, he was present. He really listened.

And sure, Rip was also a jackass.

A pain in my ass.

But he was a rare male—one whom I stupidly compared every guy to.

Banks included.

As if on cue, Banks’s elbow nudged mine before he turned and winked at me. The guy was way too good looking, it wasn’t fair, and I wished in that moment I could like someone like Banks.

Instead it was grumpy butt on my left currently holding all available space in my heart.

Damn it.

Would this movie ever end?

I exhaled a sigh of relief when the credits finally rolled and the lights turned on, only to stumble against Banks as I stood up.

Rip rolled his eyes and muttered, “Get a room.”

“Your encouragement is noted.” Banks winked.

I sighed. “I tripped on my shoelace.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Rip said in a dry tone. “Your shoes aren’t tied.”

“I’ll tie them—” Banks lowered himself to the ground while Rip ground his teeth in annoyance. That my shoes were untied? That someone else was tying them? Or that he was thinking about the tension between us too, confused, and hating it?

Ha, nice fairytale thought there, Colby.

I shook my head as Banks stood. “All done!”

Rip stared him down, his expression unreadable, the air thick with tension even though neither guy was really saying anything.

“Is there a reason you invited yourself?” I asked sweetly. “I thought you didn’t like rom-coms?”

“Is there a reason you can’t stop gawking at Banks every time he opens his damn mouth?” he said right back, making me pause. Was he… jealous? Banks had barely touched me all night—he’d tied my shoes, for crying out loud—it wasn’t like he’d proposed marriage with one knee pressed against the sticky floor of the movie theater.

“What’s wrong with you?” I clenched my fists. “I thought things…” I didn’t finish the sentence because I didn’t want to look stupid or sound stupid. What I wanted to say was that I’d thought things had shifted, that we’d gone from bickering and biting each other’s heads off to actually attempting to get along, not just for the kids but for us. Had this whole Banks intervention ruined everything?

“So.” Banks rubbed his hands together. “I think I’m just going to take an Uber back.” Banks actually looked pleased with himself, as if he’d accomplished something between us, when his idea had completely backfired.

At least earlier this week I hadn’t been fighting with Rip.

Now we were back to square one.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Rip said to Banks. “Your car’s at our house anyway.”

“No, no, it’s fine, really.” His smile was so arrogant I had a sudden urge to trip him. “Oh, and I was thinking maybe dinner next week? We can try that new sushi place.”

Rip tensed next to me for the millionth time that night.

“Oh, um… maybe.” I gulped, not knowing what else to say but needing this whole awkward scenario to be done with before I passed out from the stress. “I’ll have to see if it’s OK with Rip, only because the kids—”

“Why would I care if you went on a date?” Rip said coolly. “Go, I’ll watch the kids while you two go out. Sounds fun.”

“Oh.” I tried not to let him see the rejection on my face. I was getting whiplash from his responses. Why was it that this one hurt the worst? I’d rather have him angry at me or fighting with me than tell me to go on a date with his best friend as if it didn’t bother him when it actually bothered me, like I was getting passed off to someone else because he couldn’t be troubled. “All right, then—”