She backs away from me just as Aiden throws himself at my legs. “You’re back!”
“I’m back. Sorry, I was?—”
“Flying home from a surprise away game,” Mira finishes through a clenched jaw. “I told him all about how the game had to be moved out of town because the ice in our arena melted.”
I’m not operating on all cylinders, because it takes me way too long to realize that’s a cover story that only a four-year-old would buy.
“Oh, right. Uh-huh.” I nod. “Totally melted. It was a swimming pool.”
Aiden squeezes my leg again. “I missed you.”
He might as well beat me over the head. Someone should. I need to be put out of my misery.
My son lost his mom and then I took off without any warning and left him with Mira all night. What in the hell is wrong with me?
Mira gently pulls Aiden away. “Hey, bud, can you go play in your room for a few minutes? I need to talk to your dad.”
Aiden starts to pout, but Mira pivots and says he can play in her room instead.
“Can I make a fort out of the big blanket?” he asks, already backing towards the hall out of excitement.
“Whatever you want.” As he’s running down the hall, she adds, “But stay out of my dresser!”
The second her bedroom door clicks closed, Mira whirls back to me so fast I get dizzy. “I’d ask if you enjoyed your night, but I can smell it on you. So I’ll ask this instead: what the fuck were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that…” I look away so I don’t spew both bullshit and actual vomit all over her. “I was thinking I scored a game-winning goal and I deserved to celebrate with my teammates.”
It’s a shitty excuse and Mira knows it.
“Well, I was thinking that I’m not Aiden’s mother,” she hisses. “I was thinking that you respected me enough to stick to our schedule. I told you I needed you to come back after the game.”
For her date.
My body is processing a lot right now—mostly the last dregs of alcohol still sloshing through my bloodstream—but I still remember where all this started. It’s been almost a full day since I first saw Mira’s text on my phone, but I’m right back in that moment. Fists clenched, chest in a tight knot.
“When did you tell me that? I think I’d remember that conversation.”
“I sent you a calendar invite!”
“No fucking wonder I didn’t see it. I’m not your dentist, Mira. If you had plans, you should have told me.”
“You’re my boss.” She spits the word at me like it’s dirty. “We have a business relationship. I scheduled my time off with you like a professional, and you ignored me and got drunk, like an asshole. What the hell is up with that, anyway? I thought you were sober?”
I push past her and storm into the kitchen, barely making it to the island before I need to grip the counter and take a breath. “That’s personal. Bringing it up isn’t very professional of you.”
“As someone who works for you, I deserve to know if you’re going off the deep end!”
“You should know. You’re the one who pushed me.” I fill a glass with water and drain all of it. My mouth is still dry.
“What the—what does that mean?” She shakes her head. “I didn’t do anything wrong. You’re the one who ruined my night.”
“You aren’t even supposed to date.” I drain another glass of water. When I slam it on the counter, I have a flash of doing something similar last night. Though, I’m pretty positive that glass wasn’t full of water. “It’s part of our agreement. You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she finds the words. “You’ve made it clear you aren’t interested, Zane. Starting anything between us would be stupid, remember?”
I grind my molars together. “I never said I wanted to start anything.”
I didn’t say it. But fuck knows I’ve spent hours thinking about it. About her body arched against mine, her lips parted in a pant. I’ve rubbed myself raw to keep myself from starting something with her.