Every Sweet Regret (Orchid Valley 2)

The thought doesn’t sit right, though, and I turn it around for a few seconds before I can figure out why. Stella’s not the one who told me about wanting kids. That was Itsy.

Jesus, in retrospect, they’re so similar. Itsy opened up more, but she had the same vibe Stella does. It’s no wonder I was interested in her without ever seeing an actual picture. Now I wonder if I was just an idiot who was looking for an excuse not to fall in love again, and looking for a way I could be with Stella without risking my heart.

If I’d been honest with her—or even myself—I would’ve admitted that a physical relationship wasn’t going to be enough for me, either. I like her too much for that. I have no idea if she feels the same about me or if she’s interested in anything I have to offer, but it seems pretty narrow-minded of me to have assumed that just because she’s single and carefree she wouldn’t also enjoy a different kind of life.

“What’s got you down?” Dean asks beside me. I was zoned out and didn’t even realize he was standing there. “Baby girl’s growing up too fast, isn’t she?”

I nod. “Yeah, the years go quick, but I don’t actually mind that she’s growing up. I see all these parents saying they wish time would stop, but I don’t feel that way. She gets cooler every year.”

“She is cool. I like to think that’s Uncle Dean rubbing off on her.”

I grunt and shake my head. “Tell yourself whatever you want, but my kid is cool despite you.”

He nudges me with his elbow and chuckles. “If that’s not it, what’s got you looking so morose?” He holds up a finger then tilts his head, studying my face. “Nope, I should’ve seen it the first time. That’s the face of a man who’s thinking about his woman. How are things with the, uh, online girlfriend?”

I swallow. “Over. We’re not talking anymore.” And it’s not the online girl I can’t stop thinking about. I hate keeping this whole thing with me and Stella from Dean, but what’s the point in telling him now? “And before you ask, I’m fine.”

“Right,” Dean says. “So she wasn’t a seventy-five-year-old granny playing you from her favorite recliner?”

“I thought she was supposed to be a sociopath living in his parents’ basement.”

Dean shrugs as if to say, same thing. “You know, no one’s perfect. We’ve made mistakes and have secrets. Have you ever considered not being a scared little bitch about a new relationship?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you know about it?”

He shrugs. “I just know you. You don’t want to get hurt again, and that’s understandable, but I’m wondering if maybe you’re not giving this girl a real shot.”

My attention is pulled off Dean when I spot Smithy sauntering across the yard, sucking on a Popsicle in the most lascivious way. I blink, and he winks at me. Because that’s who Smithy is.

“What are you guys talking about?” he asks when he joins us. He pops his Popsicle back into his mouth and slurps. Loudly.

“Kace was just telling me how much he misses his animated girlfriend.”

Smithy’s jaw drops, and he puts a pause on his little fellatio show. “Sorry, what?”

I jab my elbow into Dean’s side. “Fuck off. That’s not what I was saying.”

“She’s human and flawed and shit,” Dean says. “So now he’s going to move on and will probably end up with an AI in someone’s lab.”

I glare. “Since when do you care about my online dating life?”

“You’re . . . not going to give her a chance?” Smithy asks. “Is it ’cause . . .” His not-at-all-subtle gaze drifts to Stella. I wonder if he knows about that. Luckily, Dean’s fucking around on his phone and doesn’t notice.

I give Smithy a hard look, and he shoves the Popsicle back in his mouth like it’s a pacifier.

“Who are you talking to?” I ask Dean. He’d give me so much shit if I just started texting someone in the middle of a conversation.

He taps on the screen a couple more times, then slides the phone into his pocket. “Sorry.” He glances around the party. “This turned out great.”

I nod, grateful to move the subject away from Stella. “Yeah. I hope I got enough pictures for Amy. I think she’s beating herself up for scheduling her flight this morning instead of taking the red-eye last night. This is the first time she’s missed Hope’s birthday.”

“But at least she’ll see her this evening,” Dean says, and when I frown, he adds, “I mean, you know Amy. She’ll find a way to get here so they can have their little mother-daughter birthday moment.”

“Probably.” I fucking hope so. While Hope is on cloud nine right now, she’ll remember Mom’s not here the moment everyone leaves.