Page 153 of Trusting You
“Want a punch to the eye?”
“Can I at least tell the guys you’re doing this?”
I feint a shoulder at him, and he backs off, chuckling.
“‘Bye, sweetheart,” he says, and disappears before I can lob a plastic cup at his head.
I take a seat next to Lily, pretending like I’m anything but a hopeless moron. I try not to check the time on my phone since I did that a few minutes ago.
Carter’s late, and her simple yes to my text asking her to meet me here doesn’t tell me much. Did Pierce talk her into a cup of coffee? Are they lingering over their empty cups? Is he asking her to come up to his apartment upstairs for a quickie?
All better left unanswered.
The restaurant is filling up with tourists and children, lunchtime being a popular time to enter Times Square in the summer. I hate every second of it.
Pressure builds in my chest the longer we wait. I order some fries for Lily to munch on, dance some upside-down cups in front of her to make her clap. She’s distracted by all the busy-ness, the music, and people, but I’m smart enough to understand I’m on borrowed time with a one-year-old.
One year old.
“Holy hell,” I say to her. “When did you get so big?”
Lily seems to have sprouted in a mere month, is somewhat walking now, and I got to see it all happen.
My chest releases. No matter what comes next, I have my girl. I get to raise her, be there for her, yell at her, discipline her, chase boys out of her window, and I have Carter to thank for that. She made Lily’s transition easy. She sacrificed a lot to give Lily her father, and whatever she decides, I’m forever grateful to that wonderful, beautiful, addictive woman I can’t get out of my head.
The restaurant suddenly goes quiet.
I’m not sure if this actually happened, but ask me later, and I’ll assure you it did.
The music’s turned down and a crowd of patrons distance from my and Lily’s table, making a path for a dark-headed, golden-eyed lady, who doesn’t have to say excuse me to make space for herself. The way was given to her, people parting as two waves, and she walks up to us with a smile.
I stand as she approaches, my smile on shaky ground. “Surprise.”
She returns my smile with a tentative one of her own. “Sorry I’m late. I…” Carter looks around, confused. She lands on the three candy bowls I’ve laid out in the booth. “Are those…are those green Skittles?”
“They are.”
She meets my eyes like she can’t believe what I’ve done. “Locke, that’s…that’s…”
“I wanted Paige to be here, too,” I say. “And this is one of the best memories you have of her.”
Carter palms her chest like she’s trying to clutch her heart. “I can’t believe this. Locke, this is amazing.”
“You deserve a whole lot more,” I admit.
“Aren’t the guys supposed to be here? Astor? Astor’s fiancé—what’s his name again?”
“Mike.”
My voice catches on that word. Not because of the name. More like nerves have crawled like termites into my vocal chords.
“Yeah, him. Where are they?”
“I asked them to come later. I wanted to, ah—talk to you first.”
Oh, well done, me.
“This place,” she says, her lips lifting higher. “I can’t believe you chose it.”