Page 59 of Offside Devil

I'm paying you to smile and look good on my arm when the people who matter are looking.

Taylor twists her lips together, her face creased.

I scowl at her. “Either you’re thinking really hard or you’re about to be sick.”

She swats at me. “I’m just trying to figure Zane out.”

“Good fucking luck. I’ve given up on that puzzle.”

Why can’t this thing with me and Zane be as simple as what Taylor and Daniel have? They laugh and joke and flirt. A few dates and a bouncy castle from now, he’ll be navigating all of her tight spaces… which I’m realizing now was definitely a euphemism. Ew.

“No, you haven’t, Mira. You know how I know?” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. She just leans across the table and taps the end of my nose. “Because you’re still here. When you give up, you disappear. Usually for months at a time.”

I roll my eyes, but only because she’s right. “Don’t forget he’s paying me. That’s good motivation to stick around.”

“Oh, I remember. He’s paying you a lot of money to live in his house rent-free. He also rented out that store for you the other day?—”

“That was for Aiden.”

“And I got a front row seat to the way he was eating every inch of you up in those little denim shorts on moving day.”

“A moving day that only happened so I can help him keep Aiden.”

“Plus, he hired that beefy bodyguard.”

“Also for Aiden! Everything is for Aiden, Tay. Everything.”

She holds up her hands. “Maybe you’re right. Still, a man who is willing to go to these kinds of lengths to take care of a kid he just found out about is probably a man worth getting to know, y’know?”

I sigh. If only it was that easy.

“Do you think these lengths are necessary, though?” I muse. “I mean, you saw how big the driver is. I’m starting to think Zane might be a little paranoid.”

Taylor throws her head back in a cackle. A group of moms in the corner toss nasty looks our way. “Paranoid pot, meet overprotective kettle.”

My cheeks redden. “I’m not paranoid!”

“No, of course not. You just won’t sign up for a department store rewards program because you don’t want anyone hacking into your email account.”

“I don’t like junk mail. Sue me.” I shrug. “That’s different than thinking someone is going to try to kill your kid while you’re at a museum.”

I can relate to that anxiety, but the difference between me and Zane is that I’m not paranoid; I’m operating from hard-earned experience.

“Fans can be crazy,” she says. “My dad bought the Angels when I was in middle school and reporters tracked me down at school and took pictures of me in gym class. Whatever Zane is doing to make sure Aiden is safe—especially after the kind of shit people used to write about him online—it still might not be enough.”

Those words hit hard. For the rest of the day, guilt swirls in my gut.

I can be mad at Zane about a lot of things. Especially the suggestion that my only job is to look good on his arm—no matter how much the vainest, most superficial parts of me like that he thinks I’m pretty.

But I can’t be mad at him for being a good father.

Instead of an apology, I text him a picture of Aiden in the flight simulator with Daniel. He’s smiling as big as I’ve ever seen and it’s my favorite picture of him I’ve taken so far.

He looks exactly like Zane.

25

ZANE

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