Page 53 of The Forever Play

The guy behind the counter laughs. “Cup or cone?”

“Cone, please,” Sienna responds. “And make it like a kiddy size serving, please. I still have to get her down for a nap this afternoon.”

“Got it.” The man winks at her, and I can’t help my frown.

I don’t like other guys winking at my woman. That’smyjob.

She’s not your woman, Zander.

The reminder is a short, sharp uppercut to the balls, and I step sideways, trying to distance myself from my biggest temptation.

Once we’re all loaded up with ice cream, we take a seat in the round booth and neatly lick our cones while Zoey paints her face… and fingers… and shirt with ice cream.

I can’t help laughing as I watch her. “I was just the same. I don’t think there is one photo of me as a toddler where I don’t have some kind of stain or mud or smear across my face and clothes.”

“Really?” Sienna whips around to look at me. “I was wondering where she got that from.” Her voice dies down to a soft whisper. “She’s the messiest kid.”

The mood at the table drops by a few degrees as Sienna’s brain goes I don’t where, and I sit there shredded by the mere fact that I’ve been denied my own flesh and blood.

“Hey, who wants to ride the pony over there?” Wily points behind him, and Zoey abandons the last of her ice cream, dumping the soggy cone on the table and scrambling out of the booth.

“Me! Me! Zoey ride it.”

“Okay, come on, you messy lil’ monster.” Wily races her to the pony, and we watch her gleefully prance after the blond giant.

He lets her win, and I shoot a smile at Sienna.

“He’s great.” She laughs. “Is he one of your roommates?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “There are five of us.”

“Wow. You must live in a big house.”

“Yep. It’s an old frat house, but it’s all colonial style, you know? I don’t know exactly when it was built, but it’s gotta be early 1900s.”

“That’s pretty cool. I’m glad you live with good guys.” She nods, her smile genuine, and all I can do is stare at her, drinking in those blue eyes of hers and wishing that I hadn’t fucked things up so badly.

Her chin bunches and she looks at the table, giving up on her half-eaten ice cream and pushing it aside.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She sighs, rubs her forehead, and looks everything but okay. “I think I’m still a little shook. Today’s been a really shitty one. I’ve got my period and was already emotional, and then Zoey goes missing and—” She suddenly stops talking, her swallow thick and audible. “And it makes me wonder if I can cope without my parents the way I said I could.” Her expression buckles. “I went to this playgroup today, and I am the youngest by… years. I felt so out of my depth and like I didn’t fit at all. But I have to go back, right? Because Zoey needs to play with kids her own age. I never really had that. You know the settled upbringing that you got? I want that for her. I want her to feel secure and safe and be able to make connections. But it’s hard, you know? And when I’m feeling this way, I just want… I want…” She sighs. “I don’t know what the hell I want.”

Her defeated mumble hurts me for reasons I can’t explain, and it takes everything in me not to reach across the table and take her hand.

I want that so badly, but I’m worried it’ll just make her retreat.

So, I swallow the gravel in my throat and try to make her feel better. “At least you have Russell, right? You like living with him?”

Fuck, I hate that guy’s name in my mouth. Asshole.

“Yeah.” Her shoulder hitches as her lips curl into a small smile. “Rusty’s great.”

Acid burns my throat, but I keep asking because I obviously like torturing myself. “So, what’s the deal with you and him?”

Her gaze snaps in my direction. “What do you mean?

“I mean, are you guys…” I work my jaw to the side. “Are you guys likelivingtogether? Or do you just live in the same house?”

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