Page 38 of Perfect Playbook

“Yeah. That makes sense.” I laugh quietly to myself.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I was just wondering if you still go to marches and rallies.”

“I do as a matter of fact.”

“I always liked that about you.”

Her lips curve upward for the slightest moment. “Thanks.”

I stare at the road ahead. A green sign with distances tells me we don’t have much longer until we’re at the Mendez ranch, and we don’t need to talk about politics right now. “So you don’t want to tell Nino I’m your special friend?”

“Telling him you’re my special friend is belittling. He’s five, and I know he really doesn’t understand marriage because he’s never seen me, my dad, or my brothers married…” She sighs. “Gosh, we’re an independent bunch…” She shakes her head. “So it’s not like he’ll really get it, but equally I don’t ever want to treat him like a fool.”

“Unless it’s for the sake of cheese?”

She scoffs. “I’m over that, too, now. It’s a lost cause. I don’t try getting that under the radar anymore.”

Thinking about the little guy I’ve only unofficially met a few times in a coffee shop, who I’m suddenly responsible for, has a world of other questions coming to mind.

“Will Nino be okay living with me? Moving out from your dad’s and the only home he’s known?”

“Again, Lo, he’s only five, so it’s harder for me if anything.”

I check her face for signs of concern, but she simply turns on her indicator and takes the county road leading to the Canyon.

“As long as Nino is with me, he’ll be fine. He might wake up in the night to come to my room…” She squints an eye. “Iwillhave my own room, won’t I?”

“We can’t sleep in different rooms, Shay. I’d never. This town is too small. I have a housekeeper and a pool cleaner, separate rooms can’t happen.”

“Shit…” she says, as if realizing she’s made a big error. “Can we at least get two single beds, like push them together and leave a crack?”

“Don’t worry, Virgin Mary, my bed is huge.”

Concerns start to build up behind her furrowed brow.

“Nino is a bit of a character. Loves to talk.”

I offer an appreciative look. “Great. You know I love the banter.”

“And he has a very unusual, well, blankie? Or stuffy. Anyway, his comfort toy is… a bit different, and please don’t mention it.”

“Like what?”

“Oven mitts.”

“Oven mitts?” I can’t help the amusement that slips from my mouth.

“I guess he saw me with them over my shoulder all the time and one day he grabbed a set off a chair where I left them and refused to let them go. He sleeps with them every night. So you can’t say anything about it. I don’t want him getting self-conscious.”

I cross my heart and smirk. “And how do I not makeyouself-conscious?”

“Please. You have no such effect on me,” she deadpans.

I can’t tell if she’s serious or playing a game.

“Living with you will be fine. Being in front of other people all the timewouldmake me self-conscious.” She turns onto the long single-track road leading to the Mendez ranch. “We’d have to break the no-touching rule way too much.”

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