by LK Farlow
"Azalea!" My whine carries clear through the phone. "I'm such an idiot."
"Not an idiot, Myles."
"We were havin' such a nice time—a really, really good day, and stupid me, I had to go and ruin it," I lament, flopping back onto my bed with a dramatic sigh.
"Sister-girl, I'm gonna need you to start from the beginning."
"If we're starting at the beginning, then this is your fault." Irrational? Yes. Do I care? No.
"My fault? Now I'm really not following."
"You–you tried to set us up by asking him to drive me home. That was the damn catalyst. He was spoutin’ all these sweet words and making hope bang around in my chest like fucking butterflies on speed. Had me thinking all sorts of silly things. Then he showed up the next day to do the pressure washing for me—that was a mess in its own right. And today, he met me at the Strawberry Festival." I pause mid-rant, too caught up in my memories of the past few days.
"Keep going, hun."
"Cash was so attentive, Az. He asked about Grams and listened to every word I said. I mean, every word—he didn't act bored or nothin'. He walked with me and took the time to look at just about every booth. It was seriously amazing. Except I kept comparing him in my mind to Taylor. Not that they even compare. Cash is leaps, bounds, and miles ahead."
Azalea snorts. "You got that right."
"Yup, and I ruined it."
"Myla, while you've said a lot, you still haven't really told me anything."
"We . . . kissed."
"I'm sorry, y'all what?"
"Kissed. And I thought he was just as into it as me. Until he pulled away and apologized. Told me he shouldn't have kissed me. It was mortifying."
"Oh . . ." I can tell from her tone of voice that she's searching for the right words to comfort me.
"Yeah, oh."
"Well, I don't know what to tell you. Maybe there's more to it?"
"Doubt it. I feel like an idiot. I really thought he was into me, and I went and ran him off."
"Babe, you didn't run him off. Maybe he just got spooked."
"Yeah, spooked at the thought of kissing someone else’s baby mama."
"Myla Rose, you hush up right now. You will not be single forever. The right man will love you both." Her words are so similar to Cash’s, I can’t help but snort. They’ve obviously been drinking the same Kool-Aid.
"Yeah, heard that recently. Not gonna put much stock in it though. Single’s just fine by me. I'll talk to you later, 'kay?"
"’Kay. Love you, Myles. Don't go losin’ sleep over this."
I'm honestly not sure I believe what I just told her—that I'm okay being single for the long haul—but I guess I’d better get used to it.
15
Cash
That kiss and the subsequent clusterfuck have been on a constant loop in my mind since yesterday. I reverted to my default and drove around for hours, feeling like the scum of the earth for making Myla Rose cry.
I tossed and turned all night, debating whether I should reach out to her, talk to her and let her know that she's not the problem. I finally decide against it . . . it would probably only complicate things more.
Distance—I think distance might be the answer. Distance from her banging body. Distance from her sweet voice. Distance from the tears I caused her to spill. Yeah, distance sounds good—if only I could get my heart on the same page as my brain.
I was up with the sun, still agitated at my behavior from yesterday. I figured hitting the wood shop hard would clear my mind. I figured knocking out a new build would set my soul at ease, but if anything, with every measurement, every cut, every swing of my hammer—I thought of her more.
I made up scenario after scenario of how I could've handled myself better. Who apologizes for kissing someone? Me, apparently. Fucking idiot. And I can't even talk to my best friend about it because he's like a damn brother to her.
Aggravated with myself, I stow my tools and check the time. I've managed to spend the entire day in the shop—sun up to sun down—and didn't even notice time passing. Not to mention, I didn't get a lick of actual work done. I did get a good scrap pile going with all the cuts I botched, though.
Whipping out my phone, I dial my brother and tell him I’m coming by. I’m desperate for a distraction.
Paige answers the door and ushers me inside with a warm smile. She’s one of the nicest people I have ever met—I’m talking sunshine and rainbows. When she and Jake started dating, we all told him that he’d better not let her go. They had a lot of ups and downs, but he finally got his shit together, and they recently celebrated their eighth anniversary.
“Cash! It is so good to see you! The boys sure have been missing their uncle.”
“I’ve been missin’ them too. They still awake?”
“They are,” she says as we make our way through the house. “They heard you on the phone and refused to go to bed without seeing you.”
I kick off my shoes before stepping down into the family room, the shag carpet plush beneath my feet. “BOYS!” I holler, sneaking up on them, their heads just visible over the back of the couch. They squeal at the sound of my voice, and I revel in it. To be the center of that kind of limitless love, there’s nothing else like it.
It’s the kind of love I thought I’d have once Kayla and I started a family of our own. Don’t go there, Cash. Not now, not when your mind’s already a damn mess.
“Uncle Cashmere!” Preston shouts, climbing over the back of the couch and leaping into my arms. “Daddy saids you were coming over!” As much as I want to hate my brother for teaching his kids to call me by that stupid-ass nickname, I just can’t. It’s cute when they say it.
“Yeah! He did, he did!” Lucas exclaims, jumping on the couch like a damn monkey, impatiently waiting for his turn to hug me.
Shifting Preston to my right arm, I scoop Lucas up with my left and walk us all around to the front of the couch, jiggling and shaking them with every step. They’re laughing like hyenas by the time we collapse onto the soft cushions, and I love it.
“Tell Uncle Cash what’s good.” Preston and Lucas immediately launch into telling me every single thing that’s happened since they saw me last.
They are so excited that they’re talking over each other, and I’m not actually catching more than a word here and there.
“Boys, slow down. One at a time,” I tell them as I settle deeper into the couch with them.
Paige and Jake walk into the room just as Preston finishes up telling me about why you don’t junk punch people. “. . . and Lucas nailed him right in the peanuts! He fell over, cryin’ like a baby! It. Was. Awesome!”
“Was not awesome!” Lucas insists with a snarl. “I got in trouble, and it wasn’t even on purposed!”
“Okay, boys, that’s enough,” their mom interjects. “Let’s go—it’s bath time.”
Her decree is met with a chorus of whines and a few but Moms. Paige isn’t having it though. “You heard me—bath time. One . . . two . . .” And just like that, both boys take off.
“What happens if you get to three?” I call out as she follows behind them.
“Wouldn’t know,” she calls back. I just smile. That mom voice gets shit done.
“So, wanna tell me what you’re doing here?” Jake questions once Paige is out of earshot.
“What? I can’t just come visit?” I feign nonchalance.
“Cash. It’s almost ten o’clock on a school night.” He cocks his head to the side, studying me closely. “So, I’ll ask you again—why’re you here?”
“Fuck.” Dropping my eyes to my feet, I mumble, “Imessedupwithareallynicegirl.”
“I’m sorry. One more time?”
“Nah, if you missed it the first time, that’s on you. Got no plans to repeat myself, brother.” Evasiveness. That’s the answer.
“Oh, no, I heard you. Just wanted you to say it again.” His grin is shit-eating. God, such an asshole. “C’mon, little bro, give it up. Who is she?”
“Her name’s Myla—”
“Myla Rose. Jesus Christ.” He sniggers and shakes his head. “You do know she’s pregnant, right?”
“Yes, Jake, well aware.” My patience is wearing thin. Why did I think this was a good idea?
“Just making sure.” He steeples his fingers under his chin, a roguish smile playing on his lips.
“It started out like nothing. She accidentally bumped her buggy into me at the store. Then Drake and Simon—who are both like brothers to her—sent me to her for a haircut. I ran into her at dinner with the guys, and her sneaky little friend convinced me to give her a ride home. That shoulda been the end of it." I heave myself back into the cushions. "But no, she started talking about working on her house, and capable or not, I can't let her get out there all alone in the heat, up and down ladders."
Jake shoots me a WTF look, but I just plow on, hoping I'll feel better once it's all out. “So, I show up at her house with my pressure washer, and she's in these barely-there shorts, and there was this tension between us . . . this push and pull. I don't know how to describe it. There’s just something about her, brother."
"Not to be an ass, but get to the point."
"The point is, I'm an idiot. I kissed her yesterday . . . and then told her I was sorry and that I shouldn't have."
Jake's laughter bursts from his lips like a runaway train—unstoppable. "You weren't kidding. You really are an idiot."
"Real helpful. So, now she surely thinks I'm some dipshit jerk like her ex. I didn't mean to lead her on. I'm just not in the right place for a relationship."
"Who said anything about a relationship?"
"I . . . fuck. I don't know. I'm so hung up on her, and I don’t wanna be.”
“So, don’t,” Jake says, like it’s as simple as breathing.
What he doesn’t get is just the memory of the sound of her voice takes my breath away, and now that I’ve tasted her lips, I’m not so sure I can move her back into the 'just friends' box. Not when she consumes my thoughts, both conscious and subconscious.
I’m startled out of my inner ramblings when Jake claps his hands in front of my face.
“Are you even listening?”
“No, sorry, what’s up?”
“Dude. You’re obsessing over nothing. If you really stop and think, she’s the answer to all your problems.”
“Problems? What problems?” Seriously, what’s he even talking about?
“She’s the first girl you’ve been attracted to since Kayla. You ever think that’s all it is? Attraction, pure and simple, brother. I’ll admit, she’s a good-lookin’ girl, and maybe her being knocked up is just what you need.”
“Jake, what are you talking about?” I’m starting to question his sanity because he’s damn sure sounding a little nuts.
“You need to rebound. Think about it—you haven’t been with anyone since . . .” he trails off, waiting for me to pick up on the breadcrumbs he’s trailing.
Surely, he isn't suggesting what I think he is. “Wait, so you're saying—”
“You know what they say. Best way to get over one is to get under another. What’s the worst that could happen? Seriously, bro, it’s a win-win. You get back in the saddle, and it’s not like you can knock her up.” He chuckles at his own joke, though the humor is lost on me. If anything, it pisses me off.
“What the fuck, Jake?” I roar, rocketing up from the couch. “Are you kidding? Are you seriously—" I run my hands up my face and through my hair. My blood is boiling from his words. Wonder what Paige would think if she heard him talking like this?
“Why’re you so mad? You said it yourself—you don't want to be hung up on her. Maybe you just need to get back in the game and get her out of your system.” I pace the living room a few times, reminding myself that his intentions are good. He thinks he's helping.
“I get what you’re saying. I do. But that’s just not gonna happen. She deserves better, and that’s just not me,” I tell him right as Paige walks back into the room, the front of her outfit sopping wet from giving the boys their bath.
“What’s not you, Cash?”
“Nothing!” Jake scrambles up off the chair he’s sitting in and rushes to her side.
“You sure are acting strange.” Her gaze darts back and forth between us, eyebrows knitting together in question. “Well, Preston and Lucas are putting on their PJs and want you to read them a bedtime story, Cash. Is that okay?”
“Of course, I’d love to. Tell ‘em I’ll be right there.”
“Will do,” she says as she pivots around and heads back to their room.
“Cash, I swear to God—if you repeat a word of what I said to Paige, she’ll have me by my balls so fast . . .” He genuinely sounds worried, which is hilarious to me.
“Sure thing, brother. Not a word.” I set off toward Preston and Lucas’ room, my laughter trailing behind me.
“And they all lived happily ever after.” I snort as I close the book before kissing each of their little foreheads. They fell asleep about halfway through the story, but I had to know how it ended.
Too bad life doesn’t guarantee a happy ending for everyone. From what I’ve lived, they’re few and far between. I quietly pull their door to and make my way through the house, looking for Jake and Paige.
I find them in the kitchen having just finished a nightcap. Their glasses sit empty on the island, and Jake has his arms wrapped around Paige as they whisper to one another. It’s an intimate moment, and I feel like an intruder. Clearing my throat, I announce my presence. “Boys are out cold. Think I’m gonna head home. It’s late.”
“Thank you so much for reading to them, Cash. They just love you so much,” Paige murmurs.
“Not a problem, I love them too.” I give her a one-armed hug and ask Jake to walk me out. “Thanks for letting me stop by tonight. This is just what I needed.”
“Anytime, brother.” We do one of those man-shake-back-slap kinds of hugs before parting ways.
I meant it when I said that tonight was just what I needed. While Myla Rose still lingers in my mind, she’s no longer at the forefront, and that’s a start.
16
Myla Rose
Today’s the day—my sixteen-week appointment, and hopefully, I’ll get to find out if I’m having a boy or a girl. I should be overflowing with excitement, but my attitude is still a bit sour from how last weekend ended.
I know I need to move on and get over it. The fact that I care, that I’ve been stewing over it for this damn long, really irks me.
According to the girls, I’ve been a straight-up bitch. As far as Seraphine goes, I've chalked it up to hormones. No reason to have both of them on my case about my knickers being in a knot over Cash Carson.
I mean, Lord have mercy, who does he think he is, flirting with me and kissing me like that when he's not really interested? Men are nothing but jerks, all of them.
Though, if I’m honest, it’s all too easy to get caught up in him. With the way he says all the right things—you know, aside from apologizing after our kiss—and the feel of his strong arms around me, with his lips hot on mine and his all-male scent swirling around me like a haze. It’s a lethal combination, one that had those foolish thoughts of mine flaring right back to life.
Well, no thank you. I’m gonna stick those thoughts right back up on the shelf, where they belong. He made me feel like a damn fool after our kiss, cementing the fact that those feelings were clearly one-sided.
"Myla Rose McGraw.” The nurse calls my name.
Gathering up my purse, I head over to where she’s waiting. “Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”
“How are you today, dear?” she inquires as she escorts me to the ultrasound room.
“I’m doin’ fine—excited for this appointment!”
“I bet you are. Go ahead and hop up on the table and lift your top. The ultrasound tech should be joining us any minute.”
I do as she tells me, and sure enough, by the time I’m comfy
, the tech is here and ready to get started.
She has kind blue eyes and introduces herself as Belinda. After squirting some of the warm gel onto my stomach, she begins pushing around the wand, making notes and taking measurements as she goes.
“Are you finding out the gender today?”
“Yes, ma’am.” My voice comes out a bit louder than this small space calls for. “I would love to know.”
“All right, let’s see what we have here then.” She begins to move the wand and press on my abdomen. This goes on for what feels like an eternity, and I’m quickly losing hope that I’ll find out today. I’m working on firming up my resolve to wait another month to find out when she blurts out, “It’s a boy!”
She shows me on the screen, and goodness gracious, is she right. My little man is showing it all off, proud as a peacock. I’m overcome with emotion, tears of joy streaming down my face. I’m getting my little prince after all. I’m so high on cloud nine, nothing can bring me down.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Belinda asks, softly giving my arm a little squeeze.
“Oh! Yes, ma’am, I’m just so-so-so happy.”
“Oh, good. I hate seeing mothers disappointed. A healthy baby is the real goal here." She smiles before telling me that I can head back out to the waiting room because Dr. Mills isn't quite ready for me.
Back in my chair, I flip through the ultrasound images Belinda gave me before digging my phone out of my purse to call Azalea with the news. Lord knows, she’ll kill me if she isn’t the first to know.
“It’s a beautiful day at Southern Roots! This is Seraphine, how may I assist you today?” Her creative greetings always amuse me.
“Well, hello there, Seraphine. Is Azalea with a client?”