Page 4 of Not In Love

Cursing inwardly, he scrubbed a hand down his jaw. Today had cemented beyond doubt that he was into her, that it wasn’t simple lust either. Just when he was finding his way in his own life again.

Nearly four years after the injury that shattered his ankle, he was building a life without soccer. Making Tia a priority in his life and getting his soccer academy off the ground. Kash and he had, finally, struck a balance in giving Tia a stable, conflict-free foundation.

Panting over his daughter’s aunt, who was a decade older than him, who tolerated him only for the kid’s sake, was the last thing he needed.

* * *

In the large,airy kitchen, he washed his hands at the sink and decided to make dinner. That way, Kash—who couldn’t boil eggs if her life depended on it—wouldn’t have to figure it out later.

He found a bag of rigatoni in the pantry and frozen homemade marinara in the freezer. Neatly labeled with date and portion size by Kash’s mother Neena, no doubt. He set a large pot of water to boil on the stove and started chopping fresh basil, cilantro, and garlic. Another smaller pot of water went on the stove for chai. Once it started boiling, he grated ginger into the water and tossed in a couple of cardamom pods.

Tia grabbed apples, nuts, and cheese from the fridge, washed the apples, grabbed the apple slicer, and then neatly arranged them onto three different plates.

Diego smiled when she added a few Cheetos to each plate, stared at the portions, nodded to herself, and put everything away. Then she brought her snack plate to the dining table, grabbed a graphic novel, and buried her face in it.

It filled him with a strange ache to see how much his daughter mimicked her aunt. As if her world would be right if only she was just like her. He fought the foolish urge to snap a pic of Tia and her snack plate just to share it with Kash.

Against all odds, they’d found their own rhythm in co-parenting, but it didn’t mean Kash wanted to share the ups and downs with him.

When the doorbell rang, he opened the door. His cousin Muriel stood there, a folder tucked under her arm and an arched brow aimed at him.

Tall and built like a boxer, his cousin hid a finance-savvy brain behind her easygoing facade. Luckily for him, she used that brain to manage his finances, his business ventures, and unluckily, his personal life too.

“You’re impossible to pin down,” she said, brushing past him. “I went to your parents’ house, the birthday party, then drove across town to get back here.”

“Tia insisted on coming back to check on Kash,” he said softly, following her back into the kitchen.

Muriel watched as Tia settled into the cozy armchair in the living room with her graphic novel. “Everything okay?”

“Once she saw her aunt, yes.”

Nodding, Muriel threw a couple of files onto the gleaming quartz island, casually eying the pots on the stove. “Figured if I didn’t drop this off, you’d dodge my calls another week. Is it the spring ‘Date with a Bachelor’ auction that terrifies you so?”

“I’m not dodging you,” he said, flipping through the files, pretending like she hadn’t pinned him down perfectly.

When he had been a scrawny middle-schooler with failing grades, the idea of being a soccer star with scores of fans had appealed to him immensely. And he had enjoyed the super-stardom that had come during his peak years.

But now, with his career behind him, he felt like an imposter when people recognized him, asked him for an autograph, or worse, requested him to take part in a public event.

Like the bachelor auction. Months ago, Muriel had convinced him that it would garner free publicity for the soccer academy.

Now, the idea of having dinner with some faceless woman made him want to curl up inward. Which was truly messed up. He was thirty-one, not sixty-five. Even that didn’t stop him from casually asking, “Is there any way for me to back out?”

“No. You need to get out there, D.” Her nose scrunched. “You’re in a rut.”

“I’m not in a rut. I’m still recovering from all the curveballs life’s thrown at me, okay?”

His cousin’s sigh was voluble. “Millionaire many times over, and here you are, playing the domestic deadbeat dad.”

He continued chopping the garlic. “I’m making dinner for my daughter. And her aunt.”

Muriel leaned in, voice dropping a notch, eyes flicking toward Tia. “Does Kash even know that you could buy the block twice over?”

He brought the pasta to the sink and drained it. “Not exactly something I want out there. And she,” he said, pointing to the stairs, “is the last person who would change her stance toward me because I had the smarts to trust you to make me a millionaire.”

Sometimes, it did amaze him that he had that kind of financial security. While his own father had died when he’d been twelve of a sudden heart attack—without ever having seen Diego make something of himself—he had left Diego and his mother secure. Now, with Mama refusing to let him buy her a new house or upgrade her car, being a millionaire wasn’t a big deal.

“You have to tell Kash you are no broke-ass bum, Diego.” Muriel had apparently decided she’d be relentless today. “At least to bring up the custody stuff and the financial assistance you want to offer.”

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