The Godparent Trap

An hour from now he’d ask for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I’d bet my life on it, but I let it slide. “Go brush your teeth. You can have twenty minutes of screen time, then bed.”

He slumped out of his chair and slowly went up the stairs.

I smiled after him. “They’re so different, but they both have so much of Brooks and Monica in them. It’s really nice to watch.” I shrugged. “As much as I wish they were here to see how much those little boogers are growing—I’m glad we get to at least experience it for them.” Do not cry. Don’t cry!

“Ben would eat his plate if we didn’t stop him.” Rip stood and started clearing the table with a sad smile. “And Viera just wants to give the world a hug.”

I grinned in agreement. “They’re adorable. Exhausting, but adorable. How was, um…” I casually grabbed some glasses and made my way toward the sink. “You know, um… work, after Heather stopped by and… stuff.”

“And stuff”? Really?

He was quiet. Too quiet. Why was I freaking out? He seemed calm, not like he was ready to tell me bad news, but insecurity flared up like always.

She really was perfect for him on paper.

Ugh, why had I even mentioned her?

Why did I care?

I mean, I didn’t care—much.

OK, I cared a lot.

He’d kissed me.

Me.

But maybe it had been an impulse? Or maybe I was just being ridiculous and the chicken was affecting my brain cells.

“She’s been acting weird” was all he said. Maybe my gut instinct had been right and she was just being the same mean girl I used to go to school with, the one who would do anything to nail the popular guy and keep him for herself.

Besides.

He’d kissed me.

Maybe if I just kept repeating it, I’d finally believe that it was possible Rip had feelings for me, real feelings.

Things had shifted between us so much in the last week, and after that kiss… my entire body felt like I was going to do something stupid any minute, like kiss him again or just accidentally slip while doing dishes and collapse against him to see if he caught me. Yeah, bad idea. Stupid idea.

Or the best idea ever?

“What do you mean ‘weird’?” I asked, moving dishes toward the sink and trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

How was he acting so normal after kissing me?

“Heather”—I couldn’t tell his mood by the way he said her name—“was… just… strange today. We had a talk in the car, and I’m starting to think that working for me might not be the best fit for her, you know? I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Something just seems… off.”

I nearly dropped the plate I was holding as I shakily brought it to the sink. “Did she do something illegal?”

“No.” He barked out a laugh. “Nothing illegal.”

“Did she… do something wrong?” I was totally reaching, but I was curious about what she’d done in all her perfection to make him even contemplate letting her go or having that conversation. It clearly wasn’t the burrito or the coffee. I was being obsessive about it, needy for details because I knew it would at least help me understand where he was at.

“She does everything right, but that’s not the point. Maybe doing everything right means you’re wrong, and clearly I’m exhausted.” He shrugged it off. “Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it or work.” He walked toward the sink, his hand brushing my hip like he meant to do it. I tensed and looked up at him. His eyes locked on mine with an intensity that my poor heart needed. His look said, It’s not her.

Weird how a look can do that. I swallowed my nerves and attempted to act as normal as possible.

I clutched the plate and started vigorously scrubbing it clean, not even realizing that he’d come up behind me. He put his hands in the dish soap, helping me stroke across the ceramic, and apparently I wasn’t just cleaning it off for the dishwasher, I was going to stay in that spot forever, with that plate, and with him behind me.