Page 120 of We Can't Be Friends

Chloe never calls me during the work day. Since moving in together, our phone calls shifted from late-night companionship to quick one to two minutes at the store, asking if the other needs shampoo or trash bags.

I answered on the first ring, a habit I’ve been conditioned to.

Miller’s nanny has the stomach flu, and he needs help watching Riley tonight. Chloe has a meeting at five and is unsure when it will end.

“Yes,” I assure her for the third time. “I’d tell you if I didn’t want to.”

“Okay,” she relents. There’s a knock that comes from her line. “Cal, I gotta go. I’ll put Miller and you in a group text and let you know when I’m on my way home.” There’s a pause, a bustling and gathering of papers. “Thank you, I appreciate it,” Chloe says before the line goes dead.

***

Riley comes barreling into the flat with two backpacks on his back. Sprinting down the hall Liam’s old room—the same room I built and added a shelf with bins, books, and Legos for him. He knows that’s where to keep his toys.

He’s stomping back to the main area, pretending to be a dinosaur, his latest fixation, while Miller and I speak in the kitchen.

“Thanks again for watching him, man. We’ve got a winter charity gala tonight. Getting auctioned off.” His brows flit up in horror. “If he’s acting up, just call me or whatever. I can leave and will come get him.”

“No worries, mate. The lil’ man and I will have a blast.” I look over my shoulder, calling to Riley, “Isn’t that right, Riley?”

“I’m not Riley!”

Miller leans forward, whispering to me, “He likes to go by T-Rex Ri.”

“Ah. Kids,” I mumble. We keep our eyes peeled on him. “Isn’t that right, T-rex Ri?” I correct myself.

“RAWR!” He stands up from the couch, stomping over to us with arms bent to mimic a T-Rex.

T-Rex Ri walks over to his dad, pretending to bite his abdomen. Miller fakes pain, ruffling the kid’s dark curly hair.

“Are you going to behave for—” Miller pauses, prying his son off him. “Eyes on me, Riley.” His big gray eyes, their family signature, gaze up at his dad. “Are you going to behave for Aunt Chloe and Cal?”

“Who’s Cal?” he asks.

“You know Cal.” Miller points to me. “He’s Aunt Chloe’sroommate.”

“Oh, yeah. Duh.” He taps his forehead with a toothy smile. Damn, this kid is cute. “Is Chloe here?”

Before either of us can answer, he takes off again, up the stairs, shouting for Chloe. Riley’s attention span is fleeting. Tucker hurries after him.

“Where is my sister?” Miller asks me.

“Work. It’s three.”

He runs a large hand through his brown hair, lighter than Chloe’s and wavy.

“With my hockey schedule, I get my days and times mixed up.”

“That doesn’t bode well for managing your busy schedule,” I try to joke.

“You know what I mean.” Riley returns, disappointed. “She’ll be back later. You are staying here tonight.”

Pools of bright gray peer up at Miller with disbelief, then bounce to me. I wonder if that’s what Chloe looked like as a kid. It pulls a smile out of me.

“Really?” His head swivels back to his dad’s. “Are you staying too?”

Miller shakes his head no, before adding, “Unless you need me too.”

“Nope!” Riley quickly replies. “See how big I am? I can stay.”

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