“Oh, like you two didn't have hurdles in your own relationships. Donovan was a total jerk to you, Chloe, and Eric had some serious problems of his own when you met him, Morgan. But you guys didn't give up because you must’ve felt something special. There was a part of you that knew they were the one for you, right?”
Chloe blushes while Morgan bites her lip begrudgingly but agrees.
“Well, that’s my question. How did you guys know you’d found the one? Your one?” I whisper, allowing my voice to be swallowed by the din of the noisy bar.
Looking at my two best friends and the happiness they’ve found, it makes me want to believe that there really is a perfect man out there for me. But how will I know when I find him?
The emotions that I have for Jake are so wildly confusing, I don’t know how to make sense of them at all.
“It was just a feeling right here,” Chloe explains, pressing her hand over her heart. “When Donovan and I were getting to know each other, I just felt like I was a whole person when he was around, like he brought out the best in me.”
She sighs wistfully and looks to Morgan for help in explaining the feeling she had when meeting the love of her life.
“Eric makes everything fun but he knows when to be serious too,” Morgan says, her own eyes dreamy and distant. “He makes me want to be brave and he reminds me that I'm beautiful on the inside and that it’s important to love myself.”
“Does Jake make you feel any of that?” Chloe asks with a quick look back at me.
I bite my lip. “He does. When I look into his eyes, there’s sincerity there, or at least I truly believe there is. He has this mask that he wears for his football games and his fans and stuff, but there’s a real man under there who’s dealing with some real problems. And when he almost kissed me the other day . . .” I trail off, flushing crimson.
Chloe and Morgan exchange a look.
“I’ve never seen you like this, Stacy,” Morgan says, squeezing my hand. “I'm still skeptical because of how he’s portrayed through the media. I don’t want you to get hurt. But you’re a good person with a good heart and a good judge of character. You need to trust your instincts.”
“There’s a way we may be able to figure this out,” Chloe suggests, her hands steepled so she can rest her chin on her fingertips. She has a cunning smile on her face. “Invite him out to a charity event Donovan and I are holding. It’s this cute new business that we’ve added to our PR biz called Central Bark Pet Shop and Boarding. The girl, Summer, who runs it is a total sweetheart and there will be tons of adorable animals to play with. You can get Jake out of his uniform and away from the cameras and see what he’s really like.”
“And Chloe and I can both judge him for ourselves!” Morgan squeals excitedly.
I lean back in my chair. “I don’t know. His schedule is insane . . . could he bring his nephew?”
“I don’t see why not,” Chloe answers.
I chew my thumb. “I literally just told Jake we need to keep things professional. If I ask him to something like this, it’ll definitely seem like a date.”
“So, are you willing to let him go or not?” Morgan quips with a frown, “Because a second ago you were trying to convince us that he’s amazing.”
“Come on, Stacy. If he says no then at least you tried,” Chloe adds.
With a grin, Morgan pushes my drink back toward me. “Drink up, girl. Find a little courage and maybe you’ll find the love of your life, too.”
Unable to help but laugh, I pick up my drink and down it, letting the flush of alcohol warm me through—though it doesn’t compare at all to the warmth I feel in Jake’s presence. Thinking of him, I grab my phone and start crafting a text while the other two girls lean over my shoulder.
“I can’t believe you might be dating an NFL player!” Chloe gushes. “That’s so crazy. What position does he play?”
“Tight end,” I reply casually, trying not to get ahead of myself as I hit send on the text.
It’s hard to imagine Jake will have time for an event like this, and I sort of feel guilty even asking knowing what’s already on his plate.
Fortunately, Morgan always knows how to lighten the mood.
“So, tell us, Stacy, how tight is his end?” she asks with a giggle as we order another round of drinks and laugh together until my sides ache.
If nothing else comes of this, at least I know I’ll always have these two on my side.
Chapter 15
Jake
It’s taken me all of ten seconds to text back an earnest Yes! to Stacy’s text inviting me to some event.
Frankly, I barely read the message further than her request for me to attend with her. I didn't even check my calendar. If she needs me to be somewhere, I’m there.
After our discussion at my place I know I have no room for error with her. But I think she’ll be pleasantly surprised. I’ve made some big changes in my life. Changes that were long overdue.
I’ve already started reworking my practice schedule with Coach so I can be there for Ryan’s soccer games and have more time dedicated just to being with the six-year-old.
I’m currently stuck at a late Friday practice and have only just a second on the sideline but I’m dedicating all of it to Stacy. Normally, I don’t check my messages during practice, not since last year anyway, but my heart leapt when I heard the phone buzz, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it was Stacy—and I was right.
Now Coach is shouting at me from the sideline to resume my drills with the rest of the team, and I will, but not before I quickly fire off my own text inviting Stacy over for dinner at my place on Monday night. It’s the only day I don’t have practice, and I need plenty of time to make sure everything is perfect.
Now that Monday has arrived however, I feel even less prepared than I did before I stocked the shelves and made sure the pantry had everything a six-year-old and an adult man could want.
We have everything from fun snacks to canned goods to protein powder. I organized it too, placing the cookies and sweets up high so they weren’t in free range of the kiddo and healthy snacks on the bottom rack. Ryan still has to ask permission before diving into the pantry, but at least the food right in front of his face is nutritious.
The organization of the pantry was something I picked up from the stack of half-read parenting magazines on the coffee table. I’m making my way through the magazines and books, highlighting important information and earmarking pages. But I have other pressing research to do.
I’m slightly terrified to meet Stacy’s friends at the charity event.
I know nothing about them other than the small things she mentions every now and then. She clearly adores the two girls who were her roommates, and I want them to adore me too. I know that’s important to Stacy. I know one of the girls is dating Donovan Dunn, whose name I’ve heard a thousand times on television and radio. He’s some huge business mogul running one of the most esteemed advertising firms in the country. It’s his company hosting the event that we’re going to.
I take a deep breath and try to remind myself that these girls, if they’re anywhere near as remarkable as Stacy, are going to be awesome. I'm sure Stacy would only surround herself with people who are just as kind and special as she is. Besides, I thrive under pressure. My entire career feeds off that.
This will be no different than getting ready for a big game. I’ll jog a bit beforehand to clear my mind, do some breathing exercises, and then I’ll charm the pants off everyone at the event. Not literally of course.
I didn't particularly want our first date to be such a public affair, but with Stacy, I’ll take what I can get. It’s also why I organized tonight’s dinner.
I’m hoping it’ll take some of the pressure off the charity event. I'm not even sure if she means for us to attend the event as a couple, but I’m optimistic. Hopefully, tonight will give me some more time to feel her out and make my own intentions clear.
I’m not gonna lie. I’m nervous as
hell.
My hands are shaking but I’m doing my best to disguise my nerves for Ryan’s sake. He’s having fun helping me prepare. I think it’s important to show the little man the right way to impress a special lady. We’ve even lit candles which flicker along the bar.
I'm not sure how aware the six-year-old is of the intricacies of the evening, but I can tell he wants to impress Stacy, too.
He stands at the sink on a little stepstool covered in tiger stickers, carefully shredding lettuce into a salad spinner. He hates salad, but he’s giving it his all right now.
“Does Stacy even like cocoa vine?” he asks abruptly, turning toward me. The apron I got him matches mine, but his has ‘Little Hartbreaker’ stitched across the chest.
“Coq au vin!” I correct him, even though I have no idea if I'm saying the French phrase right.
It’s one of the highlighted recipes from the cooking magazine I’ve been flipping through over the last few days. I have no clue what I’m doing and the recipe might as well have been written in French just like the name, but I’m trying to show Stacy just how much I want to change and how much effort I’m willing to put in.
The chicken and wine dish is in the oven now, though the smell is kind of strange and I'm not sure how good it’s going to be.
“That’s what I said,” Ryan giggles. “Cocoa vine!”
When the doorbell rings, the little boy gives a squeal and leaps off the stool.
“I’ll get it!” he cries, rushing over to swing open the door before I can even take a step in that direction.
“Hi, Stacy!” he gushes. “We’re cooking!”
“I can smell it from the hall! You guys must be working hard!”
“We’ve been in the kitchen all day,” he accentuates the words with a roll of his eyes and pads after Stacy as she walks in. She sets down her bag and slides onto a barstool, inhaling the fragrance of chopped veggies and cooking chicken.
“Hey,” I say softly. I'm not sure if she’ll let me walk over and hug her so I just stand by the stove awkwardly instead.
“Hey, yourself,” she answers with a faint smile.
Her cheeks are rosy and I'm so happy just to see her again that my heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest. Her expression, however, isn’t quite what I would’ve expected. Her nose crinkles, head tilting.
I'm glad now I didn't try to hug her.
“Um . . . Jake, is it supposed to be smoking like that?” she asks, nodding her head toward the oven behind me.
“Jake made cocoa vine, Stacy! And I made a salad,” Ryan says proudly as he strides back into the kitchen.
Stacy gently grabs his shoulders, stopping him from entering.
“It’s French,” I say with a knowing smile. “I’m guessing the smell is supposed to be exotic.”
“Exotic is one thing, but I think burnt food is the same across all cultures,” she offers with a smirk.
Gulping, I bend down and pull open the stove as smoke rolls out in thick black waves.
I groan and flip on the vent over the stove while she rushes around the apartment, pulling open windows so the smoke can escape.
Twenty minutes later, the smoke alarms are silent and we can finally see each other again, though the smell of smoke still lingers.
“Is it ruined?” Ryan asks, disappointment etched on his face.
I look into the black, burnt crusty bits in the pan and nod, my heart falling. There’s no way we can eat this. I turn to Stacy, expecting her to be preparing to leave after seeing this failure of mine, but she’s still grinning from ear-to-ear, trying not to laugh.
“This isn’t funny,” I grump, but I can already feel a smirk tugging at my lips.
It’s impossible not to smile when Stacy smiles at you.
“It’s kinda funny.” She winks. “When I was Ryan’s age, I tried to make grilled cheese on my own for the first time and nearly burnt down our house,” muses the beautiful brunette.
“What?” cries Ryan, “but you’re such a good cook!”
She nods and grins at him. “Because I took the time to learn. Nobody starts out doing something perfect the first time. Right, Jake?” she says, wiggling her eyebrows at me and gesturing her head toward my distraught nephew.
“That’s right, kid. When I first started playing football, I could barely catch the ball at all. It took me a long, long time and a ton of practice to get where I am today.”
“Wow . . .” Ryan muses, his brow crinkling thoughtfully.
“Practice makes perfect, so how about we practice together?” Stacy offers, pushing up both of her sleeves and walking around to the kitchen. “We’ve still got your salad, Ryan, so all we need is something tasty to go with it.”
“Grilled cheese!” Ryan cries, clapping his hands together. “Just like you made the first time you were cooking, Stacy!”
Stacy turns toward me, grinning. “Does that sound good?”
Anything prepared by Stacy sounds amazing, and between the three of us, hopefully we can keep the apartment in one piece without the fire department showing up.
“That sounds perfect,” I answer.
“Then let’s get to work. Together,” she says, her eyes locked on mine.
I swallow hard and nod in agreement, wondering if she can hear my heart beating out of my chest.
Chapter 16
Stacy
“So now we add butter to the frying pan . . .” I demonstrate, tossing a thick chunk of golden fat right into the brand-new pan that Jake lightly rocks back and forth on the burner.
The delicious fragrance of melting butter instantly makes all three of us sigh.
Jake’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration while he watches me like he’s trapped in a cooking show competition with the clock running down instead of his own home. I’ve never seen him look so focused before, but Ryan is loving every second of it.
Grilled cheese may not be coq au vin, but it’s going to be delicious, especially after I help them whip up some super quick and easy tomato soup as well. We’ve already blended up fresh tomatoes, garlic and herbs and started it simmering on another burner.
“Did I do the salad right?” Ryan asks, taking my hand and dragging me back to the kitchen counter where shredded lettuce and grape tomatoes sit in a big bowl.
“Oh, yum, that looks like a perfect salad!” I tell him with a big grin.
Ryan is glowing. He bounces around the kitchen, chattering nonstop. His little face is almost bursting with happiness. I’ve seen the change in him in the classroom this week as well. He’s starting to come out of his shell a little, choosing to interact a bit more with the other kids and even frequently raising his hand to answer questions.
The changes are practically night and day. Jake has made some really tremendous positive changes for the boy too.
The apartment looks all but brand new. It’s still just as clean as it’d been when I was last here, but some of the furniture has been replaced, making it look much more inviting and homier. And Ryan was right about the big bookcase, fully stocked with books for kids and adults alike. He made sure I saw it before we attempted dinner again.
Jake even apparently traded in his huge television for a slightly smaller one so that the bookcase would have more room. It made my heart swell to see how much he’d taken my words to heart.
I glance over my shoulder, checking on Jake who’s now resting two pieces of bread in the skillet while he’s hard at work shredding cheese. The sandwiches are going to be extra delicious because Jake has just about every type of cheese under the sun in his fridge. He may have gone a little overboard, but in my opinion, one can never have too much cheese.
He catches me watching him and slowly smiles, taking in Ryan and I standing together. The way he’s looking at me makes me blush and I focus back on Ryan, who’s rambling on about how Jake told him to add spinach to the salad because it has iron and vitamins in it that will make him super strong.
“Stacy?” the boy says as he g
rabs a grape tomato and rolls it between his fingers until it squishes and splatters red juice on his palm. He inspects it for a moment before swallowing the smooshed red fruit whole. “Are you having fun?”
I lean closer, hands on my knees. “The most fun,” I promise him with a smile.
I'm not just entertaining a little boy’s need for validation. I mean the words I'm saying. This past hour has been so much fun dancing around the kitchen and goofing off with both Ryan and Jake.
“Then can we do this every day?” he presses hopefully, his little eyes sparkling. “You and me and Uncle Jake? Can we cook like this all the time?”
The request is heart-meltingly sweet. I lower myself to his level, taking his small hands in mine. “You know you don’t have to use me as an excuse to cook with your uncle, right? You two can have just as much fun together as when I'm here. I bet you can even find cooking classes to take together.”
“Really?” he gasps, turning toward Jake who’s plating the sandwiches. “Can we?”
“You got it, kiddo. Tomorrow morning I’ll find us some to do together. But right now, let’s eat!”
Laughing, we grab our plates and load up with soup, sandwiches, and salad, and settle down around the new dining room table that Jake got to replace the gaming chairs.
“This is amazing,” I moan, closing my eyes as I savor the cheesy sandwiches.
The boys grunt in agreement and we eat in silence, too busy enjoying each other’s company and meals to speak.
When the food has been scarfed down, Ryan begins yawning even though I can tell he’s struggling to stay awake. His eyelids droop more and more until Jake has to all but prop him up so he doesn’t pass out in his tomato soup.
“I’ll just get him tucked in really quick,” Jake says, standing to lift the child into his strong arms.
I nod and watch them trundle off together before collecting the dishes and heading to the sink to wash them. Over the flow of warm, running water, I hear Jake’s voice rumbling from Ryan’s open door. I glance over, catching sight of Jake’s massive, muscled body bent over Ryan’s small bed. The boy is still barely managing to keep his eyes open, watching Jake read from a storybook.
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