“I’m just keepin’ it real for you, honey.”
“Okay, maybe if he’s really nice to me and good to me, and I’m the love of his life, and he writes me sweet notes on a regular basis telling me that I’m the light of his life and he can’t live without me, I’ll give him ten women tops. Tops.” I let out a breath. “I’m getting mad just thinking about it.”
Both of them groaned before Trip began cracking up. “Ten women and you’re already getting mad at the poor bastard.”
“Life is too short to not get what you want,” I argued with him, smiling so wide my face hurt even though I was facing the skillet. With my back to them, it took me a moment to remember that Dallas was still in the kitchen with us. He hadn’t said a word during our back and forth, so I glanced at him over my shoulder. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking tired.
We could do this. We could be friendly.
“What do you think?” I asked him.
He kind of closed one hazel eye as he asked, “How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
His face went a little funny, a little smirk-ish before he squinted one eye. “You’re young, but not that young.”
I choked out a laugh that I swore had a tiny smile curling Dallas’s mouth.
He finally ended with, “Unless you’re hoping to find some kid still in high school, I think you’re shit out of luck.”
I hoped he understood that the look I shot him wasn’t a nice one, but I was going to let the age thing go. “What? Eleven women then?”
Trip closed his eyes, shaking his head just slightly. “I don’t know why Ginny didn’t bring you into my life before, honey.”
“Because she didn’t want you crushing my dreams and making me plan to spend the rest of my life alone?”
“I think you might just be able to make a family man outta me if you tried,” Trip joked.
I raised my eyebrows at Dallas, reminding myself that this wasn’t going to be weird between us, damn it, and shook my head quickly, pursing my lips together. “No thanks.”
The blond man sagged as he laughed, but it was Dallas I was looking at, and I didn’t miss his quick smile.
That was something.
“Buttercup!” Louie’s voice shouted from another room.
I didn’t move as my five-year-old stomped into the living room, his face pink and a mix of pouty and hurt. In blue swim trunks and an orange German national team soccer jersey my uncle had given him for his birthday a few months ago, he already looked like a mess without even taking in the watery blue eyes of his that went from Dallas to Trip and finally to me.
“What is it, Goo?” I asked.
Louie stalked toward me, his chest puffing. “They won’t let me play with them.”
I crouched down to get eye level with Lou, who was hesitating closer to the stove. “Video games?”
He nodded, closing the distance between us quickly, his forehead going straight to my collarbone. I hugged him. “He never lets me play when he’s with his friends,” he whispered.
I sighed and held him for a minute. “He likes playing with you. It’s just his birthday coming up, and he wants to hang out with his buddies, Goo. He still loves you.”
“But I wanna play with them,” he whined.
“I’ll go tell them to let him play,” Trip offered.
Louie just shook his head against my cheek, embarrassed.
“They’ll let you play,” Trip kept going. “Promise.”
“I don’t wanna,” the little boy whispered, changing his mind all of a sudden. His arms slipped around my neck. His body went soft in resignation.
“I got an Xbox at my house. I can bring it over and we can play.” Dallas’s suggestion had Lou and me both glancing over at the man still leaning against the counter.
“You do?”
“Sure do, buddy.”
I remembered seeing a couple of game consoles at his house and his massive TV, but I couldn’t really picture Dallas—this muscled mountain of a man who had been so serious every other time we’d spoken—sitting on his messy couch playing video games, at all.
Lou took a step away from me. “What games do you have?”
“Louie,” I hissed at him.
Dallas smiled, his entire face bright and welcoming. I narrowed my eyes, taking in the way he went from good-looking to more like stunning by using the muscles around his mouth. What kind of trickery was this? “A lot of them,” he told him. “What do you like to play?”
The little boy said the name of a game I wasn’t too familiar with, but Dallas nodded anyway. “I got it.”
That seemed to perk Louie up because he looked at me for approval, and I smiled at him.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” the older man explained.
“Can I come with you?” Louie blurted out.
“Louie, come on, you can’t invite yourself places,” I told him softly. Plus, he didn’t even know this guy. What the hell was he doing?
Dallas glanced at me with a shrug, a partial smile on his face courtesy of the five-year-old in the room. “I don’t mind. We’ll only be a minute.”
Did I trust this practical stranger with Louie at his house?
“Please, please, please, please, please.” That was Louie.
Our neighbor met my gaze evenly and lowered his chin. “I’ll leave the front door open.”
“One minute, Tia,” he begged.
I hesitated for a moment. This man spent hours with boys. Lou looked so hopeful… Damn it. I met my neighbor’s gaze. “If you don’t mind holding his hand.”
“Nope.” He was back to smiling down at Lou, resembling a different person with that expression on his face. Had he really been so serious and distant because he thought I was coming on to him? Really?
“Okay. Then go with Mr. Dallas and don’t steal anything.”
Louie’s face went red. “I don’t steal!”
I couldn’t help but grin at the other man, grateful at his kindness and still slightly unsure about him taking Louie somewhere. But I reminded myself I let this man spend a whole lot of time with Josh and so did plenty of other people. “He’s got little butterfingers. Watch him.”
“I’ll make him empty his pockets before we leave my house,” he said dryly, as he extended one of those big hands toward the little boy. “You can help me cross the street.”
I watched Lou and Dallas walk out of the house hand in hand and it sent this terrible bittersweet grief straight through me. All I could think about was my brother and how I would never get to see him do that with Louie. How Louie would never get to experience that with his dad who had loved him very, very much. This knot formed in my throat and didn’t seem to want to go anywhere despite how many times I swallowed in the time I kept facing the direction they had gone, even though they were out of the house.
Before I knew it, I had reached up to wipe at my eye with the back of my hand.
How was it possible that I lived in a world where my brother didn’t exist anymore?