Page 40 of Single Chance

I wouldn’t admit it out loud even at gunpoint, but there was a small, dumbass part of me that had gotten a thrill at the thought of Rowan being my wife. It made no sense at all. I wasn’t in the market. I was dad to a teenage handful who needed all my attention and love. Serious relationships weren’t an option.

If Rowan said yes to moving in, the next few months were going to be hairy as hell. I’d have to play the balancing act of a lifetime.

I guessed this was what I got for one night of fun.

Chapter Thirteen

Rowan

At work on Monday, I ended a marathon call with a health insurance person and resisted the urge to wilt onto my desk. Having Chance catch me midsnooze on Friday evening had been embarrassing enough. I’d only been resting for five minutes when he’d found me, but it didn’t look good.

Chloe was turning out to be a goddess of a boss. When she’d found out this morning I hadn’t been able to secure health insurance during weekend hours, she’d ordered me to take the time to call a broker today, so I had. But I didn’t want to take advantage of her boundless empathy and understanding.

As I eyed the monthly premium amount I’d jotted on a sticky note, I tapped my pen on the desk in a rapid, nervous rhythm.

Health insurance was a whopper of an expense on a budget like mine, but it wasn’t one I could delay. I’d signed up for a plan on the spot. If that financial commitment meant sleeping in my car, then I’d be sleeping in my car.

I’d spent yesterday searching for a place to live, as my one-month stay at the inn, which Ava had given me yet another break on, was up in a few days. I could spring for another week there,or a month if I had to, but it’d mean dipping into the rapidly dwindling fund from Gram’s belongings. It had me considering every possible option.

I’d made an appointment tomorrow to see a garage apartment over lunch. It was a studio, not ideal once the baby came, but what made me even more reluctant was that the place looked run-down in the photos, with a water stain on the ceiling and windows that appeared ancient and leaky. I’d give it a chance though. My choices were limited.

Maybe the Dakota person who lived above Earthly Charm would consider letting me room with her until my baby was born. Probably not, and I didn’t even know what the rent was to live with her. With that premium location? It was probably out of my reach, even with a roommate.

This evening’s project would be fine-tuning my budget…if I could summon the energy. Between the pregnancy itself sapping my energy, the stress that came with finding out about it, and lying awake for hours each night trying to process my new reality, I was beyond exhausted. It took me back to the hardest times with Gram, when she had her worst, most agitated days that took every ounce of fortitude I had to get through them.

This isn’t the same, I reminded myself.This isn’t caring for a confused, dying woman. This is setting up the future for a new life.

That truth brought a smile to my face, but it didn’t make me any less drained.

Maybe tonight I would sleep.

The body had to win out over the brain and fall into near-unconsciousness to reboot eventually, didn’t it?

“Hey, marketing assistant.” Chance appeared in my doorway, looking delectable in a navy blazer, a white button-down shirt, no tie, and jeans that fit his muscled thighs just right.

“Hi. Is that my official title now?”

His lips eased into a slow, dimpled smile that made my mouth go dry. “Nah. Not official. But selfishly speaking, I like the sound of it. What are you doing for lunch?”

“Lunch?” I asked stupidly. I glanced at my phone screen and saw it was eleven thirty. “I didn’t realize it was this late. I brought a sandwich.”

“PB and J?”

Our gazes met for a moment as if he was in on one of my secrets. My sandwich of choice was the least sensitive of my secrets that he was in on actually.

“PB and J,” I confirmed. “With a side of veggies and guac.”

“Leave that for tomorrow. I’m treating you today. Marketing lunch.”

I studied him, trying to ascertain if he was speaking as my boss—was he my boss now?—or as the father of my baby or as a friend. His brows rose in question as he waited for me to respond. I decided it didn’t matter, as we had a lot of ground to cover, both professionally and personally.

“Marketing lunch,” I repeated. “Sure. Right now?”

“Can you get away now?”

“I can. Is anyone else going?”

He shook his head, glanced both directions in the hall, leaned in, and said, “You and I have a lot to talk about.” His private tone told me it wouldn’t be all marketing.

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