“Nope,” I say, accentuating the P. “Ask and you shall receive.”
“I’ll file that away for future.”
“As long as you use it to your advantage, have at it.”
“You’re a surprise, Dee. A good one.”
“That makes me happy, ’cause when you haven’t dated in over a decade, it’s hard to know whether you’re doing it right.”
“Oh, you’re doing it right.” His voice takes on a rough edge that I really freaking like.
“Okay. So, as much as I’d love to keep talking all day—and I mean that—I’m drowning in paperwork, and I have to dash home to see Harvs before I’m due back here at six.”
“Ah, the busy life of a famous chef.”
“And mom. It’s hard, but so damn worth it.”
“I hear you. I’ll let you go. The bells could ring at any moment and then I’d have to jump anyway. Does three on Sunday suit? Can you get a sitter?”
Oh, yeah. I guess we’ll have to cross the whole ‘I live with my ex-husband’ conversation at some point. “Yeah, Flynn and Harvey have a standing Sunday dad/son date, so that’s covered.”
“That’s good. I’m lucky that Jake takes care of himself whether I’m there or not.”
“Joys of having a teenager.”
“Yep. So, would you be okay with me picking you up? I may be rusty, but I’m still a gentleman.”
Swoon! Damn, if this man is not careful, he’ll ruin me before the first date. “I’d like that, Rhodes. I’ll text you my address.”
“Sounds good, Dee..”
“We’ve still got our dinner at the chef’s table to organize too.”
He laughs quietly. “And you’re planning another date before we even have our first.”
“Hey, I’ve been wanting to feed you before my brother and your best friend decided to play matchmaker.”
“So, you’re saying we’d be here regardless of the setup?”
“I definitely hoped so.”
“Me too, if I’m being honest.”
“It’s the only way to be.”
“For sure,” he says, as bells sound in the background. “Duty calls. But, Dee?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m looking forward to Sunday.”
“Me too. Until then, take care and stay safe.”
“Will do, chef. You too.”
Then I’m left sitting there, staring at a pile of admin that has far less appeal than thinking about Sunday. I feel like a teenager again. Now I’m counting down the days to my first—albeit double—date with Rhodes.
Before I can start daydreaming like a mooning girl with a crush, my office phone rings with a situation in the kitchen. Duty calls.
It’s not until after Harvey’s bedtime on Thursday night that I get a chance to speak to Flynn in person and without our curious ten-year-old hanging around.
“You wanna watch Iron Chef or Law & Order tonight?” he asks, remote pointed at the television as I sit down and stretch out at the other end of the couch. I’m in pajama pants and a hoodie, a glass of red in my hand, and I’m still trying to work out how exactly to broach the subject of Rhodes with the man who knows me better than anyone.
“Penny for your thoughts? ’Cause that wine in your hand might distract you for a while, but it definitely won’t give you any answers,” he says, grabbing my attention. My eyes snap to find his amused ones looking my way.
I frown at him. “It’s annoying when you do that. Get out of my head.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve been a bundle of nerves since I got home.”
I sigh. Sometimes getting along with your ex-husband isn’t as great as it sounds—like, say, now.
It didn’t even take us long to get to this point. We were always good at the best-friends part. It was the being in love and passion stuff that fell by the wayside.
I turn to face him, crossing a leg under me and cradling my glass in my hands. “Okay, so I’ll just preface this by saying I know I don’t have to tell you, but I also want to. And this was bound to happen. I didn’t see it coming though, and it’s weird to talk about this with you, because it’s new—newborn baby new—and I—”
“Breathe, Dee.”
I slowly inhale then exhale and my tense muscles relax. Right . . . I can do this. I don’t know why I’m nervous. I mean, he’s dated.
“You’ve met someone,” he says, like the damn infuriating mind reader he is.
My eyes jump wide, narrowing as his shoulders shake with laughter. “You’re such a jerk, you know that?” A disbelieving snort escapes me. “Seriously, you always do that.”
Flynn shrugs, lifting his tumbler of whiskey to his smirking lips. “So, I’m right. That’s what has you so wound up? You were nervous to tell me you’re interested in someone?” He reaches over and gently squeezes my knee. “Dee, this is a good thing.”
“Wait . . . what?”
He pulls his arm back and furrows his brows. “It’s not a good thing?”
“I mean, yes. It is. A good thing, I mean. But I’m. . .” Losing my god damn mind, I tilt my head. “Were you worried when you first told me about Sophie.?”
“A little bit, but I also knew that you’d only want the best for me and you have always wanted me to be happy.”
“I have. I do.”
“So, my question to you now is why would you think that I don’t want the same for you?”
“I know you do. It’s just—”
“Weird, strange, new territory?”
A dry laugh bubbles out of me. “All of the above.”
“Exactly. But you and I aren’t exactly normal exes, are we?”
“Thank fuck for that.”
His eyes crinkle. “So, there’s nothing I want more than for you to actually get out there and live your life alongside everything else you’ve achieved. There’s never been a doubt that we love each other, Dee. It just ran its course. But I know more than anyone that you’re a good woman with a lot to give, and any decent man will see that.”
“Probably indecent ones too.”
“Only if you’re really lucky,” he retorts.
I bark out a laugh and shake my head.
“But seriously, I’m not going to go all jealous ex on you.
