Page 29 of Irresistibly Risky

I shake my head and sigh. “She didn't know it was me until I told her, and then she had a panic attack. I brought her up here for some fresh air, and that's when she told me about him.”

“At least she told you and didn't try to hide it.”

I shake my head at Grey. “I don't think that's who Wynter is.” I put my hands behind my head, my elbows butterflied out. “Is it possible to be in love with somebody after only knowing them a few days?”

Zax chokes out a laugh. “Love? Is that what this is?”

“I don't know,” I admit. “Probably not. I’m being dramatic, and I know it’s just emotional overload. I had sex with her in a bathroom and then couldn’t stop thinking about her for a year and a half. The moment I saw her again, it was like a lightning strike, plowing through me and scorching me from the inside out. She has my kid. I watched those videos of her with him. Every picture, every smile. I think they already own me, and instead of being afraid of that, I’m… I don’t know. Just not that. What do I do?”

“What do you mean?” Callan pushes out, his voice strained. Likely because I’ve never talked this way about a woman or even about my life.

“She's not interested in anything with me. She told me it could never happen. That it’s too risky to get involved with me because she has Mason to think about, and if things don’t work out between us, it could get ugly. Mason. That’s my little dude’s name. I get her thinking on it, but at the same time, I wouldn’t mind trying either.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, and I can practically feel them exchanging glances with each other.

“But she’s going to let you meet him, right?” Zax asserts, his voice growing hard.

A smile lights up my face, and I sit up, excited all over again. “I get to meet him tomorrow. She was honestly great about everything. She didn’t rush me when I took my time looking at every picture and seemed pleased when I told her I wanted to be in his life as much as she’ll let me. She offered to have me come meet them at the park across the street tomorrow afternoon.”

“Dude.” Grey smacks my shoulder. “You have a freaking son.”

“I know.” I laugh. Shake my head. Stare incredulously at my friends. “I have a son. It’s seriously wild. Nothing in my life will be the same again.”

* * *

I’m like a kid on his first day of school. I woke up early. Did an extra strenuous workout in my gym. Ate a ginormous breakfast. Popped over to the children’s hospital for an hour so I could sign some stuff and hang out with the kids. Then I came home, and for the last hour, I’ve been trying to calm myself down, but nothing is working.

It’s twelve-thirty, and I can’t stand being in this apartment for another second. Throwing on my ball cap and shades, I head for the door and then shoot down the elevator. I blow past the concierge who is talking with another resident, and then out into the boiling hot sun. Cars zip past me on Beacon, and I look toward oncoming traffic before I jog across the street, heading into Boston Common.

The frog pond is filled with kids splashing in the water and stuffing their faces with ice cream and snacks from the concession stand right next to it. The small merry-go-round is at capacity, the line long and snaking around, and I meander my way along the path toward the playground.

I don’t bother searching for Wynter yet. I’m still about twenty minutes early, but it doesn’t take long before I’m recognized by a kid. “Are you Asher Reyes?”

I grin. “That depends on whether or not you’re a Boston Rebels fan.”

A smile takes over his face, his white teeth contrasting with his dark skin. “I’m your biggest fan.”

“Cool. What’s your name?”

“Alexander.”

“Can I sign your shirt, Alexander?”

His eyes grow comically wide. “For real?”

“Sure.” I motion for him to turn around, and I pull the Sharpie I always carry on me out of my pocket and sign his shirt. “All set.”

“Thanks, Asher.” The kid runs off, and then another is there and before I know how it happened, I have a line like the merry-go-round. Even the mothers are getting in on it—many of them are Central Square fans.

Being part of this city, signing autographs, and having fans want to talk to me—it never gets old. I love it because it gives them a story and makes them happy, and all I have to do is smile and sign my name. Just as I sign my name on a woman’s shoulder, I feel a prickling in the back of my neck and turn around to find Wynter walking my way, pushing a stroller with a little boy in it.

I stare, unable to avert my gaze from him, taking him in feature by feature with my heart in my throat, which suddenly feels tight and itchy while the backs of my eyelids burn. I wasn’t expecting this. This rush of pure, unrestricted affection.

No, not just affection… love.

His hair is short and reddish brown, and his smile… his smile is mine too. His arms and legs are flailing about, probably because he sees the playground. He’s easily the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Asher?” Someone else demands my attention, forcing me away from the only people I want to see. “What do you think? Will the team win the Super Bowl this year?”

---