She lifts her head, and relief washes over her face. “Yeah?”
I nod. “It’s all good. You don’t need to worry about me.”
She grins. “Oh, I won’t worry about you if you’re with Kace Matthews.” She winks. “He’s one of the good ones.”
I swallow hard. I want to spill everything right onto the kitchen table, to tell her it’s supposed to be a fling, that this all started with me telling him no-strings hookups are possible, but I’m falling for him and I’m giddy and excited and afraid all at once because it feels too good to be true. I don’t tell her any of those things. It’s one thing to tell Savvy, but it feels cruel to get Mom’s hopes up. She might’ve given up on finding her knight in shining armor, but I know she still wants that for me.
“He is a good guy,” I say, “but he’s still in love with his ex-wife.”
“He’ll move on eventually.” She sips her coffee. “And if it’s not happening fast enough, you could tell him the truth about her.”
I tense. “Mom . . .” She’s the only one who knows what I saw, and on more than one occasion, she’s tried to convince me to tell Kace. But what’s the point now?
Mom shakes her head. “No, I know you don’t want to do that. You’re a better person than I am, Stella Elaine.”
“No one’s better than you, Mama.” My phone buzzes, and my stomach flips when I see it’s a message from Kace—and not a Random notification, but a text. I wonder if he just wasn’t thinking or if he’s decided we can make this “real” by texting now. “I need to go study. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”
She smiles, and I kiss both of her cheeks before grabbing my bag and heading to my bedroom.
I barely get the door closed before I’m unlocking my phone to see the message.
Kace: Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been distracted all day. All week.I grin so big my face hurts.
Me: Definitely not. So distracted.
Kace: Can you come over before class tomorrow? I’ll be back from taking Hope to preschool at 8:15. I want to show you what the place looks like now that it’s all cleared out. New cabinets are on order.
Me: I hate that you’re doing that! What if I find somewhere else to live?
Kace: Sorry, Freckles. I’m a little rusty. Let me restate that—I want to get you alone, and I’m using my progress on the pool house as a flimsy excuse to get my hands on you. And my mouth . . . if you’re interested.I bite my lip. This guy makes my stomach flip-flop so much. Talking to him like this is like being at the top of the first big hill of a roller coaster—all exhilaration with a dash of terror. I was going to wake up early and go straight to campus, but I do some mental calculations to figure out how to squeeze a little time with Kace into my day.
Me: I can give you thirty minutes before I have to meet my study group. Big test tomorrow.
Kace: I’ll take it.Eep.
And I’m supposed to study tonight, knowing this is happening in the morning? I’m supposed to sleep? How exactly?
Me: What happened to needing HOURS to savor me?
Kace: Oh, I still do, but with my custody schedule, I don’t see that happening for another week at the soonest. So in the meantime, it’s a beggars-can’t-be-choosers situation.
Me: And which one of us is begging in this scenario?
Kace: Right now, it’s me, but tomorrow morning, it’ll be you.
Me: Hmm . . . we’ll see.
Kace: Go study before I have to climb into a cold shower.
Me: Sweet dreams.* * *KaceBy the time eight fifteen hits on Friday morning, I’m on my second cup of coffee and have already adjusted my expectations from get Stella naked to find a private corner and kiss the shit out of her.
I’m an early riser. I’ve always been that way. Days just feel better in general when I get a few miles in before the sun’s up. Today, that meant the treadmill, since Hope was still sleeping, but I prefer the road, the rising sun on the horizon. This way I was able to get my run done, shower, and answer a few emails all before seven. I was getting Hope ready for school when the doorbell rang, and I found Smithy waiting on my front porch with a grin and a crowbar.
“Let me at those cabinets,” he said. And there went my plans for thirty minutes of alone time with Stella.
Eight seventeen.
She’s late anyway, so Smithy probably didn’t spoil anything, but the anticipation is making me crazy. I’m distracted as hell. I feel like I’m in high school again with my first serious girlfriend.