Page 121 of Betting on You

“So, Glasses. You okay?” he asked, his eyes on my face as he held a spoonful of ice cream in front of his mouth.

“Yes,” I said.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Here’s the thing,” I said, licking off my spoon and feeling my throat get tight again. “Unless he wants to move into our apartment and not live with his daughter, I’mnotgoing to be okay.”

He swallowed. “I get that.”

“Like, how do you do that?” I said, my voice frog-like as I imagined it. “How do you get okay with moving into someone else’s house with people you don’t really know?”

He didn’t answer, but just nodded and let me vent while we ate ice cream.

“And speaking of moving—my dad is moving and failed to tell me. So, like, how do youforgetto tell your child that you’re moving? Even if it was a-okay to never call her, wouldn’t she pop into your head when you’re telling your ex-wife or packing up her old bedroom?”

Charlie held up his spoon. “Listen. You know I’m all about being stubborn, but maybe you should call your dad,” Charlie said, dipping his spoon back into his ice cream and digging out another scoopful. “He might be a good person to talk to about all of this.”

“It’s lame,” I said, “but I think if I hear his voice, I’ll get, like, toddler-level emotional.”

“Is that so bad?” he asked, giving me just the kindest, sweetest eye contact.

My vision was blurry again, so I blinked fast and changed the subject. “We should mix. Gimme a scoop of vanilla.”

He looked offended. “You want me to share?”

I scooped some chocolate out of my container, then dropped it into Charlie’s. “Here. We’llbothshare.”

“Not so fast.” He grabbed my forearm in his big hand and said with faux outrage, “What if I don’t want your scoop?”

“Oh, you want it,” I teased, lifting my chin. “It’s all you can think about now. You areobsessedwith how badly you want it.”

His eyes dipped down to my mouth as his lips kicked up at the corners. “You little ice cream tease.”

I opened my mouth to sayHow can I be a tease when I’m giving it to you—and then I froze.

God, leave it to Charlie to make me forget everything and flirt with him.

He looked at my lips again, like he was thinking hard, and then he said, “Quit distracting me—I’m missing the movie.”

At around three, after too much ice cream and two more movies, I looked over and he was sound asleep. He looked sweet—which was quite a stretch from his normal state. His eyes were closed, those long lashes resting on his skin, and his forehead was clear of worry lines.

His mouth was soft, his jaw relaxed, and I wished I could stay in that silly fort of blankets and never come out.

I rolled over and pulled up my blanket. If Charlie was asleep, I might as well sleep, too.

Only it wasn’t that easy.

I closed my eyes, but every time I did, the worries about my life and how it was about to change wouldn’t stop.

Now that they are engaged, will they want to move in together immediately?

How long until they get married?

Will they go on a honeymoon and leave me to stay home alone with a new stepsibling who’s a stranger?

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