I take the damp towel from her with a mumbled, “Thank you,” and start scrubbing at the stain. “It wasn’t a dating site,” I inform her truthfully, because at least I can tell her that without giving any secrets away. “We started chatting on one of those interactive card games.”
“Oh, cool. I’ve actually never played anything like that because—” Her face lights up as she looks past me. “Because of this guy right here. There’s my goobie goo.” She opens her arms, and a little boy toddles over before climbing into her lap. “He keeps me busy. No time for games or social media, though I’m thinking about getting a Facebook account.”
“I’m not on social media either.” At least Casey and I have that in common.
Her son is adorable. He’s wearing a blue-striped shirt under a green princess dress, and three of his fingers have shiny rings on them.
Most random outfit ever.
Sticking his thumb in his mouth, he grasps Casey’s shirt collar as he looks up at her with sleepy eyes. She kisses his blond head, and a bolt of jealousy strikes me.
Casey and Jay have the life I’ve dreamed about.
The little house. The love. The family.
All kinds of people get to have this. It’s normal.
What have I ever done that makes me unworthy of something so simple?
The kid’s still staring at me with wary hazel eyes, and I give an awkward wave. “Hi, uh, goobie goo. I’m Ro—” I rub my burning nose as I correct myself “—a friend.”
“His name’s actually August, but we usually call him Gus,” Casey supplies. “Or goobie goo, bubbie, bud. You know, he’ll answer to pretty much any variation of those nicknames.”
Oh, great. I addressed Casey’s kid as goobie goo because I took her literally when she called him that. Of course that isn’t his name.
Kill me now.
To mask my embarrassment, I change the subject. “How old is he? Four?”
Casey shakes her head. “A year and a half.”
Shit. Again, I’m not great at estimating someone else’s age, and I guess that applies to children, too. I’ve never been around a kid before. Movies and TV shows don’t always represent them in the most realistic way, so I’m completely clueless.
Having finished my food, I push the wrappers away, prop my face on a hand, and give my attention to August as I try to salvage this interaction. “So, what do you like to do for fun?”
He just stares back, and Casey fills in, “He doesn’t have a ton of words in his vocabulary yet, but he loves Disney movies and anything shiny.”
Feeling silly for trying to start up a conversation with a baby, I muster up a fake grin. “Hey, I like those things, too.”
God, when will Preston be back?
This is painful, and I’m officially the worst at making new friends.
Craning my neck, I look to the kitchen and find a clock behind Jay, who’s looking very interested in whatever’s on his laptop screen.
Preston’s been gone for almost an hour.
Shifting nervously in my chair, I sweep my hair over my shoulder and start braiding it, just so I have something to do with my fingers.
Suddenly, August’s thumb pops out of his mouth and he points at me. “Rapunzel!” He tugs at his mom’s shirt some more, then begins wiggling off her lap. “Rapunzel.”
My heart’s in my throat the whole time I watch him toddle around the table to me. His eyes are transfixed on my hair, and he starts to reach out once he’s close.
“Gus,” Casey scolds lightly, getting up to retrieve her son. “You can’t just touch people’s hair without permission.”
His lower lip quivers, and it’s so cute I can’t stand it.
“It’s okay,” I say, holding my hair out to him. “You can feel it if you want to.”
Face brightening, he doesn’t waste any time, almost as if he thinks the offer might be snatched away. Little fingers pet my strands, and he brings some of it up to his face to rub it on his cheek. “Soft.”
I smile and take another chunk of hair and rub it on his other cheek. He giggles, and it’s a sound that gives me all kinds of feels.
All shyness gone, he starts to climb onto my lap. I give him a helping hand and he ends up sitting sideways with his head leaning on my shoulder.
I’m stunned and a little bit frozen in place. He’s lighter than I thought he’d be, and I like the way he smells.
Gathering a bunch of my hair, he drapes it over his own head as if it’s a wig. Seeming content, his thumb goes back into his mouth.
My heart clenches in a good way. “I like your dress, Gus.”
“Tan ku.” With his mouth full, his thank you is distorted, but I understand it.
“You’re welcome. I love the color green.”
Momentarily, Gus removes his thumb to point at my left eye. “Green.”
“Yeah. Like that.”
“You’re good with kids,” Casey states, observing us.
“I am?”
“Yeah.” She nods. “He doesn’t warm up to many people like this. Like ever.” Tilting her head, she smiles softly as she gazes at my belly. “You’ll be a great mom.”
It’s one of the best compliments I’ve ever received.
Maybe I’m not so terrible at making friends.
If Jay didn’t think my presence meant danger before, he definitely does now.
I’m not fooling around with my disguise. My new look is about as extreme as I can take it, and there’s tension in the air as he stares at my hipster outfit.
I’ve still got on the glasses, but now I’m wearing a brown beanie on my head, a red plaid flannel shirt, and ripped black skinny jeans. The temporary snake tattoo on my neck and the fake lip ring complete the ensemble.
“You moving in?” Jay eyes the rolling suitcase in my grasp.
“Don’t be rude,” Casey chastises him with a disbelieving laugh. She stands from the dining table to pick up her son, who’s practically climbing Rosalie like a jungle gym.
When I left, she was visibly uncomfortable. Now her smile is genuine as she carefully extracts a handful of her hair from the kid’s grasp.
I guess children have a way of breaking the ice.
“It’s great to finally meet you, Ethan,” Casey says, bouncing her son on her hip. “We’re so thankful. I can’t tell you how awesome the PI business has been for Jay.”
She must assume I’m stopping by to check in on her fiancé and see how he’s doing with the workload I dumped on him. Which means Jay hasn’t had time to tell Casey why I’m really here.
Good.
It might buy us some time.
“Would it be okay if Sara uses your shower?” I ask, keeping my gaze directed at Casey. I’ve barely seen Jay and Casey together, but I can already tell she has the final say in things. If Jay and I were better friends, I might goad him about being whipped. “We’re on a road trip, and the last motel we went to didn’t work out.”
“Of course,” she answers before he can stop her. “Bathroom’s down the hall. First door on the right.”
I nod my thanks, and Rosalie meets me in the hallway. I usher her through the door of a modest bathroom.