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Last on the List (Wait With Me #5)(50)

Author:Amy Daws

“They don’t talk,” Cassandra interjects with her hands raised defensively. She moves to stand by Everly as she shrinks further and further into her seat. “They are literally the non-talking kind of boyfriend, girlfriend. He’s not even a contact on her kid’s messenger app. I checked.”

I exhale a slow breath to calm down the anxiety that bubbled up to the surface at the idea of my eleven-year-old having a boyfriend. She’s too young for boys. If she starts now, who knows what she’ll be getting up to in high school.

“Are you certain?” I nearly growl, shooting angry eyes at Cassandra for not telling me this fun fact. She texts me about Everly’s bowel movements, but this doesn’t warrant a message?

“We don’t talk.” Everly’s nose wrinkles like the idea of it disgusts her. “Because…fudge the patriarchy!” She thrusts a tiny fist up high, and I think I have a mini stroke.

Cassandra’s eyes widen as she looks at me. “I didn’t teach her that.”

“That was me!” Dakota cheers, thrusting her fist into the air in solidarity.

I cradle my head in my hands, my head whirring with all that’s coming at me within the span of five minutes. My God, I run a company with nearly a hundred employees, but a hot nanny and one night of poker with my kid has me seeing spots.

“Anyway…we best get while the getting’s good,” Dakota sings, grabbing Cassandra’s arm and dragging her away from the table as she waves. “Don’t want to be late for our date.”

Without thinking, I stand and blurt out, “What about your shirt?” My eyes are locked on Cassandra’s as blood roars in my ears.

“My what?” She looks curiously at me and then at her friend.

I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I figure I’m all fucking in at this point. “That tank top you wore the other day by the pool.”

A wrinkle creases between Cassandra’s eyebrows. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It said something about you only dating yourself,” I sputter, sounding like a complete moron, so I add weakly, “Or something like that.”

Her smile fades, and I swear the pupils in her eyes dilate as she gazes back at me. Her tone is soft when she replies, “It was just a shirt, Mr. Fletcher.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Jeff Holsburg from high school. Jesus, I never thought I’d see him again in my entire life. We went to junior prom together, and I remember deciding to give him my virginity that night and then panicking at the last minute because I wasn’t ready. He didn’t even have a chance to get the condom on.

Thankfully, he was really decent about it. But I swear I saw a tear in his eye when he crawled off me in the tailgate of his pickup truck out in the middle of a cornfield.

In hindsight, I wish I had just had sex with him because my first time was with a boyfriend who told me I was fat after I broke up with him. That’s one of those insults that will always stick with you no matter how much self-love you have.

But as far as double dates go, Dakota didn’t do too bad. Jeff is apparently home for the summer, taking a break from getting his law degree in Utah. He’s sweet and a little timid, just like he was in high school. I remember having to ask him to prom because he didn’t have the guts. Evidently, he’d hoped to make me his girlfriend after prom, but when we didn’t have sex, he thought that meant I didn’t like him. He was probably right.

The guy designated for Dakota was a few years older than us in school and is the bartender at the place we are currently sitting at—good old Pearl Street Pub.

Not gonna lie, I’m overdressed for the location.

But I love Pearl Street Pub. It’s a typical dive bar with sticky carpet, well-worn booths, a giant buffalo hanging from the walls, and multicolored Christmas lights that stay up year-round.

Apparently, Mr. Manbun Randal gets off at ten and will join us on the other side of the bar when he’s relieved. For now, I’ve been catching up with Jeff and watching Dakota out of the corner of my eye snap selfies with Randal, who she’s clearly hung out with before.

“So Dakota said you were nannying this summer?” Jeff asks, his brown eyes blinking back at me curiously.

“Yeah. It’s been fun. The kid is great.”

“What happened to that big corporate job you landed in Denver?”

I smile around the straw of my drink. “I just wanted a change. It feels good to be home, doesn’t it?” I divert the conversation back to him. “Are you staying with your parents?”

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