“You can’t stand that close to a girl like Abbi,” Amy says, pulling attention off Abbi’s retreating form. “You’ll give her ideas and make her want things she can’t have.”
I frown at her. “What the fuck does that mean?”
She rolls her eyes and waves it away. “Never mind. I’m only out here because we need to talk.” She swallows. “About what you said in your text.”
My chest blooms with hope. “Yeah? What do you think?”
“I think we’ve had this conversation before,” she says, sounding resigned and . . . hell, frustrated. I can’t blame her. When we started sleeping together again, I told her I could handle a fling. I was lying. I thought we both knew that, and I’m irritated with myself that I expected her to ignore my words and read my thoughts.
“Well, I guess there’s no need to have it again, then.”
I start to walk away, but she stops me with a hand on my arm. “You don’t really want me, Dean.”
“The fuck I don’t.” Spinning around, I shake off her touch. “Do you want me to prove it? Tell me how. I’ll get right to it.”
She folds her arms. “I know your type. You’re attracted to the rush, the hookup, the quickies in the bar bathroom and drunken fucks in the back of an Uber.”
She’s not wrong. I do like those things, and I’ve enjoyed them all with her, but that’s my history, not my type. If anything, my type is the girl who just walked away. Nothing else would explain why I’m still carrying a torch for her four years after she made it clear she’d never settle for a guy like me. “What does any of that have to do with us?”
“When we mess around, you’re getting fun, single Amy.” She tucks her blond hair behind her ear and gives me a shaky smile. “But I’m only her half the time. The other half, I’m a busy mom. I have to rush home to get Hope to dance practice and then rush to get dinner on the table so we can eat before I give her a bath and get her ready for bed.”
I turn my palms up. None of this is a surprise. I know Amy. I know her life and her priorities and have never complained about Hope coming first. “I don’t see a problem.”
“What is it you think you want? To move in with me? To play daddy?”
Heat creeps up my neck, because . . . yes. That’s exactly what I was thinking. “I’m not trying to replace Kace.”
“But you would be. Half the week, you’d be the surrogate dad, and your life would be hella unsatisfying.”
“I don’t see it that way.” To be honest, I’ve pictured everything she’s describing. That’s part of the appeal. I love fun, drunk Amy. Horny Amy. Naughty Amy. We have a good time. The sex is amazing. But I fell for her because she’s more than that. She’s a good mom. Despite my track record, I’ve always wanted a family. I’ve just never been in a hurry to start one with the wrong person.
“I’ve given this a lot of thought,” she says, turning her head toward the Friday night traffic passing through the town square. “That’s why I’ve never offered you more than a fling, why I always said this had to be a no-strings arrangement. My life is what it is, and I can’t bring you into Hope’s world and have you break her heart the day you realize that’s not the life you want.”
I swallow. It makes sense that she’s trying to protect Hope. It’s the kind of mother she is. This isn’t necessarily about me and what I do and don’t have to offer. “What if it is the life I want?”
She sighs and turns back to me. “How could it be? Most days, it’s not even the life I want. That fact destroyed my marriage. I won’t let it hurt Hope too.”
“You really think that little of me?” I shove my hands in my pockets. I need a fucking drink. The ups and downs of this conversation are destroying me. “I’d never hurt Hope.”
“Not intentionally,” she says softly.
I hate that we’re standing on a busy street right now. I hate that I can’t pull her into my arms and make her all the promises she needs to hear. But I’m not sure it’d matter anyway.
“It’d be different if you had a different track record, but you don’t know what it’s like to date someone boring—someone you didn’t meet at a bar, who spends more time at home than out being fun, who’s a little frumpy because she has to prioritize real life over her appearance. You’ve never dated someone like that.”
My blood runs cold. “You’re saying you won’t give me a chance for something real because my prior girlfriends were too fun?”