Page 36 of The Dating Pact

The only thing to excite him anymore was baseball, and he seemed to like Dylan more than me right now because Dylan was his coach. I was the guy making him clean up his bedroom.

“Hello, Bissi,” George said, wrapping his arm around Sebastian, who didn’t return the embrace.

George raised his brow to me in silent question, and I shrugged, not letting on to my suspicion that Sebastian objected to still being called little kitten.

Mira had given Seb that nickname when he was born, and the whole family had quickly adopted it. But I guessed he was too old for that too.

Once Sebastian entered the house, George adjusted Amelia to his hip, so he could pat my back. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” I motioned to his leg. “I see you still haven’t gone to the doctor.”

He let a familiar sound rumble from the back of his throat. The one that stated he did not want to discuss it, so I grinned in good humor and walked inside, where photos decorated almost every inch of the walls, chronicling Youmna and George’s journey from Damascus, Syria, to West Chester, Pennsylvania.

The décor hadn’t changed in twenty years. There were still doilies on nearly every flat surface, vases holding fresh flowers in the windows, and a cabinet containing fine china I had been allowed to eat off exactly twice in my life.

Youmna sauntered out of the kitchen and greeted Sebastian with a kiss to his forehead, her hands curved around his cheeks, speaking in soft Arabic. He let her hug him for a moment before rushing off to where they’d redone one of the bedrooms for my kids when they slept over. Then my mother-in-law turned her attention to me, greeting me in the exact same way she had my son. Pulling me to her with her palms on my face and her lips on my forehead. “Habibi,” she murmured, smiling, eyes roving over me in inspection. “You look good today.”

“As opposed to every other day?”

She whacked my arm with a cluck of her tongue. “Yes. Come on. Come eat.”

I dutifully followed her into the kitchen, while Amelia sat on her grandfather’s lap, playing with some kind of wooden puzzle.

“I’m going to eat out,” I told Youmna, hoping to stop her before she started cooking.

“Have a snack.” Then she proceeded to place an array of small dishes in front of me on the table, stuffed grape leaves, tabbouleh, and spinach pies. I stopped her when I noticed her reaching for the loaf of bread.

“This is enough, Mama.”

She reluctantly sat down across from me, silently urging me to eat before setting her chin in her palm. “Now tell me, how are things?”

I filled her in on Sebastian’s attitude as of late and asked if she could sew the mouth that had come undone from one of Amelia’s unicorns, which she happily agreed to. Then she slid her hand over my hair, down the side of my face to my beard. “When are you going to cut your hair? You are too handsome for so much of it.”

I covered her hand with mine, nuzzling her palm. “I will. I’ll cut it soon.”

She nodded in satisfaction. “You are doing what you promised. Finding someone?”

I bit into one of the small savory pies to buy myself some time. My mother-in-law, always patient, waited me out, smiling. As if she could tell something had changed.

I swallowed and cleared my throat. “I’m trying.”

She couldn’t have looked more pleased. “Who is she?”

“No one in particular,” I said around the spinach pie lodged in my throat. “Just…trying to go on dates.”

“You will find someone to help you and love the children.”

I didn’t want to confess that I wasn’t interested in a wife, so I let her fantasize about my supposed someone while I tried not to recall the feel of Brooke’s skin and the way her lips tasted. How she wrapped her hand around my cock and the way her breath caught when I entered her. The sounds she made when she came on my fingers.

I shook my head out of my reverie.

It had been happening more and more lately. The more days passed, the more my brain had demanded I remember.

At the most inopportune times. Like when I visited with my mother-in-law.

I finished the pie and wiped my hands on a napkin. “I won’t be late tonight.”

She waved me off. “If you are, they can sleep over.”

---