Page 66 of Thanking Her Brother's Best Friends

"Mommy sucks big time on ice, baby. But I'll go to every practice session you have and cheer you on."

As dinner went on, I remained quiet for most of the conversation. The boys, including my own, talked about everything under the sun.

And as I sat there surrounded by and basking in the genuine warmth of their connection, that same, prickly little voice got more insistent.

Selene, babe, you know this isn't just to pass the time.

If I would have been a donkey or a mountain goat, this would have been a great time to aim a kick at myself.

I'm fine,I argued, feeling like one of Shakespeare's crazed heroines launching a disturbing internal monologue with themselves.I don't need love.

You can scream that shit to all of Boston,the voice croaked.But how're you gonna convince yourself?

21

SELENE

"Visit us after hours tomorrow?" Niall's question settled warmly on my skin.

They were standing outside the main door. Dinner had ended, and although all of us wanted more, tomorrow was going to be a long day.

Plus, I had to help Ollie with a science project before I tucked him in for the night.

Biscuit was standing close by, a passive expression on his massive face. He chewed the inside of his cheeks with practiced precision.

It made him look like he was permanently holding on to a sea of insults.

"I feel like he can see inside me." Aiden squirmed. "But yeah—Selene—about what Niall said, please say yes?"

The sight of three impossibly masculine, ripped, gorgeous men looking at me like three golden retrievers had the dual effect of making me laugh and melt. "Okay. I'll drop by. Franny should be good to watch Ollie tomorrow night."

Their faces transformed immediately, the way a sweet golden's did when their human parent returns after five minutes spent anywhere else without them.

After they left, Ollie and I worked on his project for an hour. Once he went to sleep, I checked in with Reynolds.

The stalker was maintaining a very low profile, but something told me he was outside, in the hedges, keeping an eye on me and my son all the time.

It felt criminally invasive. I had begun considering sending Oliver away to Ben's for a few weeks. I made up my mind to have a talk with him tomorrow.

The first message I woke up to in the morning was from the producer of Kitchen Goddess, William Turner.

It put a smile on my face because he was just that kind of a man—portly, fatherly, and always excited about the prospect of food. For years, he had doubled as a mentor and a father-figure to me.

Turner's office occupied a prime location within the bustling hub of Seaport Square, the very epicenter of the district.

"I'm telling you, he's going to come up with some crazy idea about the next season," Chloe said, waving her piping bag at me.

"I'm not denying he's an eccentric old bat," I admitted fondly. We were in my pastry shop, getting orders out. I'd go to his office once the first half ended. "But he knows how to work his audience, Chlo."

"That he does," Chloe breathed, masterfully piping a sea of roses on top of a decadently lush chocolate cake. "I'm just waiting for the day he'll pack his bags and say he's off on another adventure."

"Like a hobbit?" I asked, imagining the sight of Turner leaving his comfortable little nest and then getting two hours ahead and crying about how cozy his home was.

"Aye, and he'd probably ask you to go with him, and then you'd land in some exotic country eating elven breakfasts and forgetting all about me." Chloe looked up from her creation with a scowl on her face.

"I'm not allowing it. But also" —she sighed wistfully— "it would be pretty fucking amazing."

"I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves," I said bemusedly. "I'm only hoping we get a renewal."

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