Page 44 of Unravel Me

“What are you doing here?” I take a hesitant step toward him, my hands shaking at the realization that he means so much to me in no time at all, no rhyme or reason, and I’m afraid this will end the way life has always worked for me: him, leaving, and me, walking this road alone. “I don’t have a car seat.”

“No, but…” He opens the door behind the passenger’s seat. “I do.”

I stare for so long, Adam winds up in front of me, two fingers touching my chin, closing my mouth, amusement shining in his eyes while Connor snickers and tries to do the same to Adam.

“I didn’t run out and buy a car seat or anything,” he quickly clarifies the longer I’m silent. “I’m not…please don’t think I’m…I’m sorry if this is too much and I scared you. My friend has five cars and a seat in all of them—don’t ask me why; he’s just super ostentatious about all things—and he let me borrow one. He helped me install it, which, as it turns out, is super fuck—uh,freakinghard. There are so many rules, but he showed me how to adjust it so we can make sure it fits Connor just right.” Adam smiles. It’s extra wide, super gritty, and all teeth, like he’s just realizing how wild this is. “I totally overstepped, didn’t I? Aw, shit. I didn’t mean to. I’m so out of my realm here. The thought of you two taking the bus home alone later tonight didn’t sit well with me, so I…I…” He hangs his head. “I’m sorry.”

Connor lays his hand on Adam’s cheek and pulls his hat off, letting his curls spring free, a beautiful disaster Connor wastes no time burying his fingers in once he’s tossed Adam’s hat over his shoulder. “Hair,” he says simply, patting the dark tresses. He points at the truck. “Big tuck. Beep-beep!”

Connor’s simple words clear the fog from my head. Everything is simple to him. He’s easygoing and flexible. He sees something he likes—like Adam, his hat, his hair, his truck—and he takes it. I want to be like that. I don’t want to overanalyze every detail. I just want to let go and take it.

I step around Adam, peeking at the car seat. “Oh wow,” I murmur. “Top of the line.”

“Yeah,” Adam whispers in my ear. “He’s, like…super ostentatious.”

“He sounds fun.”

He swallows. “A little over the top.”

I glance over my shoulder, and Adam’s eyes drop to mine, bouncing down to my mouth, barely a breath from his with his chin dipped low, before ricocheting back up. “Connor is thirty-two inches tall and twenty-three pounds.”

“So he can still rear face,” Adam puffs out. “Which is what I figured when we installed it, and, by the way, is five hundred percent safer than forward-facing.”

A smile tugs at my mouth. “You did your research.”

“I love research.” His brows pinch with his frown. “That was so lame.”

A laugh bubbles from my chest, and Adam grins. The tension between us dissipates, and I tickle Connor’s belly. “What do you think, buddy? Wanna ride in Adam’s truck?”Cause Mama wants to ride something else of Adam’s.

No. Fuck. No, Rosie. Think with your brain, not with your tits. Think with your brain, not with your tits. Think with your brain, not with your tits.

If I say it three times, maybe it’ll come true.

Adam was right about having done his research, though he insists his friend really shoved a lot of information down his throat before he pulled out of his driveway with the car seat installed. It only takes us a minute to adjust the seat perfectly for Connor, and my little guy is happy as ever as we buckle him in.

“It’s a good thing you came when you did. I don’t think Connor and I could spend another minute looking at that man’s peen.”

Adam gives me a look, and when I gesture toward the bus shelter, he throws the truck in reverse and slowly backs up until the life-size advertisement comes into view, the arrogant, devious grin, and the extra-large—possibly padded—dong.

“Jesus Christ,” Adam mutters.

“Right? Was that necessary? It’s like a bad wreck. I couldn’t look away no matter how hard I tried. That’s gotta be ten inches, no?”

“Nine,” I swear he whispers.

“What?”

“Nothing. Definitely padded.” He shifts into drive, slings his arm over my seat, checks over his shoulder, and hits me with a wink before pulling into traffic. “No more bus shelter peens for you, Rosie. I’ll protect you.”

I cup his jaw before leaning forward, surprising us both when I press my lips to his cheek. “My peen hero.”

CHAPTER11

CAN CONFIRM: THAT’S A HOSPITALIZER

ROSIE

Haveyou ever walked into a space and been hit with the overwhelming urge to lock the door so you can live there, in that moment, forever?

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