Page 38 of Blindside Love

“You two are ridiculous,” Bernard says before turning his attention to me. “Is that why she’s not here tonight? Is she with her dad?”

“Yeah. He’s fighting me for custody. I requested primary custody because he will be the first to tell you that he doesn’t care about being a father. He spends time with Addy for photo ops and public appearances, but besides that, she’s either with his parents or a nanny.”

“So why is he fighting you for custody if he doesn’t want her?”

“Because it’s his way of trying to control me,” I tell him truthfully, not interested in feeding into the belief that I did anything wrong by leaving. “He wants to control the narrative of our divorce. I left because he sucks and cheated on me with his assistant, who used to be one of my best friends. He wants me to say it was me who cheated because he wants to look good so he can make partner at his firm.”

“He’s a lawyer?”

“Yeah.”

“You good if I make a few phone calls? I know quite a few lawyers, and I might be able to put some feelers out.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble. Thank you, though.”

“It’s no trouble at all. It sounds like he needs someone to stick it to him.”

“I’ll gladly do it,” Trevor says, which makes me smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Adams.”

“Call me Bernard, dear. Any friend of Trevor’s is a friend of ours.”

Chapter 14

Trevor

Ididn’t think this through when I invited Ellie over for dinner.

When I told her that she needed to make the next move, I meant it. But goddamn, having her in my space with my family has changed my brain chemistry.

I’ve never brought a girl to dinner at my parents, and they were shooting me all night when they knew she wasn’t looking.

My mom pulled me to the side at one point and said if I had any brains up in my head, I would try to get the girl. She’s not wrong, but it feels much more complex and challenging than they know. But at the same time, it feels so easy, so right. I watched her all night as she laughed and joked around with my sister and mom as they consumed more wine than their tiny selves should, and it’s like something snapped into place, and I knew I wanted her in my life.

It feels far too soon to be having such big thoughts, but I know the first thing I need to do is convince Ellie to give me a chance. To do that, I need to show her that I’m here to stay.

As we head up to our floor, I catch her sneaking little glances my way before she immediately snaps her eyes back to her feet, her cheeks blushing. But the little smile and the glazed look in her eyes tell me she’s a little buzzed and losing her filter, so it’s quite obvious she’s attracted to me.

“I told you it would be harmless,” I tell her as we step out of the elevator and walk to our doors.

“It was not harmless. I am tipsy now with nowhere to go, and I don’t want to lose my buzz. It feels warm and happy,” she slurs.

Buzzed Ellie is a very cute Ellie. She’s happy and smiley and doesn’t seem like the sad shell of a mom I saw earlier. Addy is her whole world, and I completely understand that, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with her being broken on her weeks off.

“Want to come have a nightcap and sit on the patio? I’m not tired yet and feel like sitting outside before it starts raining,” I say as we stop at my door.

“Yes please. But only if I get to DJ.”

“I’ll give you a chance, but three strikes, and you’re out. I don’t want to listen to that pop shit people are listening to nowadays.”

“Deal, grandpa. Now take me to your kitchen. I’m losing my buzz, and I’m not ready to meet the hangover that I’m sure will hit me tomorrow.”

Ten minutes later, we’re sitting on the patio couch, each with a blanket, as it’s still cold as hell, but the bourbon is helping keep us warm. I have a patio fire pit that we’ve turned on to keep warm, but it feels like it’s charging the air instead. You could cut the tension between us with a knife, but goddammit, I need her to make the move. Hell, I just need her to give me the slightest indication that she wants something to happen between us, and I’ll consider her move and take it from there.

“Okay, first song,” she says with a smile as she turns on Shania Twain’s “That Don’t Impress Me Much.”

If she was expecting me to hate it, she’s sadly mistaken.

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