Only One Kiss (Only One 1)

“Oh,” I say, getting up. “And order Chinese food?” I smile and point at her.

“If I was not so into dick,” she says, “I would make a play for you.”

“Um.” I laugh now. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You know that getting involved with a single dad is not the smartest thing to do,” she says and puts up her hand when I start saying something. “I know, I know.” She gets up, cleaning up her mess. “I’m just saying if it goes sideways, you are not only going to lose him, you lose the baby also.” My heart slowly speeds down, and it clenches tightly in my chest. “And you know how you get with kids.” She pushes the chair in. “It’s your kryptonite.”

“If anything, I’m going to be his friend,” I say. “I don’t think he’s ever had a friend.”

“That’s so sad,” she says, walking to the kitchen and taking a bottle of water and a bag of chips out of the cupboard. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Aww,” I say, putting my hand to my heart. “Be still my heart.”

She groans as I repeat the words that Miller said. “Fuck, he’s so annoying.”

“But he’s hot.” I point at her, and she can’t even deny it. He’s like a walking talking sex ad. His black hair is just long enough to run your hand through it, and it comes out of his helmet in the back. His eyes are so black they pierce through you. His chiseled face is perfect and his lips are plump and full. There is a reason he’s the most sought-after NHL player on and off the ice.

“Fine.” She throws her hands up. “I admit he’s hot, but he’s probably got a tiny wiener and doesn’t know how to use it.” She looks away, and I know that is the end of the conversation.

“Now let’s go see if love is really blind.”

“What is that?” I ask, walking into the living room as she tells me about the show. I’m not really listening to her as I think about Ralph. I sit down, and she starts the show. I try to get into it, but all I can do is think about calling Ralph.

I get up in the middle of an episode when my phone beeps. Walking over to the table, I see it’s from Ralph. My palms automatically get clammy, and my heart speeds up, and I can swear there is a flutter in my stomach. I open the message.

Ralph: Hey, I have a huge favor and was wondering if you could help me out.

I sit down and type out.

Me: Sure, anything.

But I don’t press send. No, I sit here at the table and erase it. That sounds too eager.

Me: That depends.

I also don’t send it. Maybe he’s going to think I’m a bitch. Before I can even answer, the phone rings in my hand, and I see it’s Ralph. I get up and walk to my bedroom so I don’t disturb Layla, who is yelling at someone on the show.

“Hello,” I say, sitting on my bed.

“Hey,” he says, and the minute I hear his voice, I immediately smile. “Sorry, I know it’s a bit pushy to call you, but I’m running out of time.” The urgency in his voice is apparent now, and I am already standing up and ready to get my keys and go over to his house.

“Oh my God,” I say, suddenly stopping and the burning in my neck fills. “Is it Ari?” I put my hand to my stomach, feeling sick.

“No,” he says, and his voice is soft now. “Oh, no, not like that,” he says. “I mean, she’s good. She turned six months, and she can sit up by herself, and well, yesterday, she pushed my hand away.”

Sitting back down, I feel the fear that I had before go away. “Anyway, I’ve been craving your pasta,” he says. “I think I fucked it up, but I was wondering if you could maybe give me the recipe.”

“I don’t really have a recipe,” I say, and he groans out.

“I have the shrimp in butter and garlic,” he says, and I hear Ari yell in the background. I suddenly miss her more than I care to tell or say. “I started the pasta.”

“I was actually going to call you about the things I found out about the foundation and about everything that I set up.”

“Or why don’t you come over and show me how to make this recipe, and we can do it over dinner?” he says.

I have to say no because there is no reason for me to go over there. It’s going to be hard when we stop talking. It’s not going to do anyone any good if I say yes. It’s for the best that I stay away. “Sure, I can be there in twenty.” I have lost my damn mind!