Page 110 of Fiery Romance

“Why do you care where my dad is?”

My smile falters. I pick it up from the ground, brush it off and say evenly, “Because I’d like to tell him we’re leaving.”

Abe glances away. “He’s in a meeting. He didn’t know you’d be here early.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell him.” I wink and wave him forward. “Come on. I’ll send him a text on the way.”

Abe reluctantly follows and gets into the car.

I send Clay the text, wait for his reply of confirmation, roll my eyes when I read his instructions to ‘not get into any trouble’—as if I could—and then I’m off.

The ice cream shop has a playground out front. Abe and I sit on the bench and enjoy our ice creams. Regan leaves hers to melt while she plays with some new friends on the swirly slides.

“Island! Island! Watch me!” Regan yells from the top of the slide.

“Wait, let me take a video.” I haul out my phone and point it at her. “Be careful, sweetie.”

She waves again and then soars down the slide.

I capture it all in 4k, save it to my gallery and then send a copy to Clay so no one can accuse me of taking secret photos of someone else’s children.

“Good job!” I applaud her, smiling.

Regan scrambles up the ladder to do the slide again.

Abe snorts.

I glance over and see him sending a dark look at his ice cream as he stabs his tiny pink spoon in the cup.

“What?”

“Don’t you think you’re trying too hard?”

I narrow my eyes. “Don’tyouthink you’re trying too hard…?”

Shock sends his head bouncing up.

“…To hate me?” I break out into a grin. “I can tell you don’t want to.”

The strain leaves his eyes. Was he expecting me to harp on his poor dye job or his shaggy haircut or his style? Did he think I’d stoop low and attack a twelve year old?

“I promise I’m not as bad as whatever vision you have of me in your head,” I add, licking my spoon.

He squints at me as if he’s trying to figure me out.

I leave him to his thoughts and notice Regan waving at me again.

I wave back.

She blows me a kiss.

I blow her a kiss back.

Abe shifts in his seat. “Why did you go through all that trouble with my dad just to take me to rehearsals?”

“Huh?” I glance at him.

“I heard some of the guys talking. They said you were arguing with dad. About me.” Abe shifts his ice cream, which is more milk than ice, around in the cup. “Why did you do that if it wasn’t to get with my dad?”

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