Page 36 of First Comes Forever

“I’m comfortable around you,” she clarifies before she smirks wickedly. “But if it bothers you, I’ll wear a bra moving forward. I just normally don’t bother around myfriends.”

I fell right into that trap. “It doesn’t,” I mumble, then clear my throat. I continue clearly, “Anyway, why don’t your friends think you’re the mom type?”

“Because I’m Fun Aunt Amani. I’m good with kids in short bursts. But I’m hoping if I have my own baby, the important maternal stuff will come naturally.” Her eyes tilt downward and worry lines crease her forehead. One of her shoulders is locked in a shrug, and her face is twisted in apprehension. She looks so insecure. “Right? Or am I doomed?”

“My brother was not a baby guy. At all. Carson was a major surprise. But the moment he became a dad, not only did his life turn upside down, but he was thrilled about it. The guy who used to complain about babies on flights now wants a family the size of the Brady Bunch.” I smile at her sweetly, desperate to ease her trepidation. “If Alex can be a good dad, you sure as hell can be a good mom. Actually, solely based on how important this is to you, I think you’re going to be a phenomenal mom.”

There’s only one real key to being a good mom in my opinion. Don’t abandon your kids after a mental breakdown. It’s literally that simple. You don’t have to be domestic, buy expensive presents, or say the right things at the perfect times. Just don’t fucking leave.

I shift in place and unwittingly nudge a box lying by my feet.

“Whoops,” Amani says, whisking toward me to collect the luxurious white box with shiny gold foil embellishments. She lifts it, trying to place the box onto an overhead shelf beside me. “Don’t want this one getting damaged. It’s pricey,” she says, straining, not quite tall enough to secure the box in place.

The scant hint of her perfume is dredging up bad memories, especially here in this condo. Sure, Amani won’t wear a bra on moving day, but she’ll spritz herself. Once upon a time, it was my favorite smell in the world. I used to buy Liv Honeysuckle by Rainelle every other holiday. She wore it because I loved it. Now, I can’t stand the smell. Especially not on Amani. It’s becoming a confusing blur between past and present feelings.

She’s a mere inch from me, so close I can feel her body heat radiating as she rises to her tiptoes, still unable to accomplish her mission. Careful not to actually touch her, I reach above her fingers and push the box into place. “There we go,” I murmur.

She spins around and we’re chest to chest, a simple act of chivalry on my part turning incredibly intimate. This close, she has to tilt her chin up and lift her eyes to see my strained expression. “I have never misjudged someone so severely,” she says. “You’re actually nothing like ‘Smooth Talking Adam’ from Chase’s birthday party.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” I reply. I mean to smile, but all of my focus is going into self-restraint at the moment. Despite the triggering scent she’s wearing, Amani is stirring up all kinds of feelings in me. At the present moment, mostly physical. And I’m too tempted to grab her by the hips and put my lips on hers, so I need her to be the one to step backward and put some more space between us. If I do so, I’m afraid it’ll hurt her feelings.

She doesn’t budge. If anything, she leans closer before dragging her top teeth over her full bottom lip. She smiles as she scours my face, seemingly proud of how obviously she’s affecting me.

Just friends, Adam.Friends who don’t kiss.

“It was definitely a compliment,” she whispers.

I know the look she’s giving me, and I don’t think our friendship will survive if I turn her down again.Ah, fuck it.I lean down, eyes still locked on hers.What’s one kiss, one time—

“Adam?” Alex bellows from the bedroom door, nearly stopping my heart. I basically leap out of my skin, retreating from Amani like I got caught with my pants down. “You in there?”

“Closet,” I call back.

There’s no mistaking the disappointment in Amani’s deep green eyes. She wanted that kiss as much as I did. With a foot of distance between us now, she looks small and unsure, wrapping her arms around herself and nervously rubbing her triceps. Alex finds us quickly, pausing at the open archway.

“What’s up?” I grumble as I turn to face him.

Alex holds his phone out and waves it in the air. “Piermont called. Dad’s having a good day. He wants to see us.”

“Another?”Holy shit.That’s two days now in a month. That’s a great sign, definitely progress in the right direction.

“Yeah, they said they tried you first.”

I pat myself down, feeling my empty pants pockets. Where’s my phone? Why aren’t I wearing my Apple watch? How could I miss a call like that? Damn Amani’s sexy, sassy self, distracting me all day.

“Okay, let’s go,” I say to Alex, then turn quickly to Amani. “I can help you move your bed tomorrow. My dad is ill in a way”—I tap my temple—“memory issues. And whenever he’s up to seeing us, we drop what we’re doing and go.”

“Oh my gosh,” she says. “Yes.Go.You’ve already helped more than enough. Both of you. Thank you. The bed isn’t mine anyway.”

“What?” I ask.

She pops her shoulders. “My apartment came with basic furniture. The big sofa, the coffee table, the dining table and chairs, none of that is mine.”

“So you don’t have a bed?”

Amani looks at the corner of her closet, eyeing a large canvas tote. “I have a blow-up mattress. That’ll work just fine until I have to move again.”

“You’re not going to buy a bed? You’re just going to live on an air mattress?”

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