I coughed, choking on my half-chewed bite, and he immediately leaned over, handing me one of the hot chocolates while continuing to look down at Tristan. If stone-cold granite was a person, it’d be freaking Garrett Rowe.
She pulled back, blinking furiously in offense. “I run the PTO at your son’s school. I even designed the boys’ soccer uniforms this year.” She pursed her lips, like second-grade uniforms were the epitome of a life well-lived.
“Huh,” was all he said before dismissing her and looking back out at the field. No explanation, no denial, no “he’s not my kid.” Nothing. I stared up at him, baffled. I didn’t know of a single man who wouldn’t have corrected a beautiful woman about his parental status.
She frowned, or at least I think she did. It was hard to tell with her perfect, Botox face. “How long are you staying in town for?”
He took his time dragging his eyes from the field, making it very clear she was interrupting. “I live here.”
Her lips formed a perfect “oh” and her eyes darted to me, calculating. I sighed, setting my cup down and hardening my spine. I could fill an entire notebook with all the reasons I disliked this woman.
“Tristan, this is my neighbor, Garrett. Jamie invited him to the game.” Which is why we’re trying to watch it, you gossip whore, I silently added.
Her bell-chimed laugh hit my ears, banging all the way to my eardrums, and making me wince. The other two women—Carolyn and Lara, if I remembered correctly—laughed along with her like they all somehow knew the same joke. It instantly had alarm bells taking off, joining the still-ringing sound of her laugh.
“My apologies, Garrett. That makes so much more sense.”
I sucked my lips into my mouth, trying to let the comment pass. Same shit, different day. We’d only spoken a handful of times, but she always found a way to insult my single-parent status each time. Inhale, exhale. Her comments didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. I was a motherfucking river stone, and I was here for Jamie.
“And why is that?” The question rumbled out of the broad chest next to me, and my head turned his way, but he wasn’t looking at me. If Tristan had wanted his undivided attention, she now had it.
She batted her lashes again, and I imagined if they were any longer, she’d fly away. Turning around more fully, she had the audacity to rest a hand on his knee. Her very much married hand.
“I meant it as a compliment. You don’t seem like the kind of man who would have had a child with a child.” She laughed again, “But that’s what I get for assuming.”
The underhanded insult shot through me, and I set down my Styrofoam cup to keep from squeezing it in half and throwing it at her smiling face.
I waited to hear his reply, hear him knock her down a peg or give her his unimpressed expression. But he didn’t. He just stared at her hand on his knee, the muscles along his jaw flexing.
The cold, plummeting feeling in my stomach definitely wasn’t disappointment or embarrassment. Nope. I was probably just coming down with a sudden case of the flu.
Pushing down the feeling—that I was leaving unnamed—I pasted my very best customer service smile on my face, lining it with a hint of disdain.
“Thank you, Tristan.”
She glanced over, eyebrows raised, and her hand still resting on Garrett’s knee. “For what?”
“For always reminding me how young I was when I gave birth. You’d think I could remember since I was the one who laid there for fourteen hours and shoved his body out of my vag, but it’s so difficult sometimes. Probably because my brain hadn’t fully developed yet. So, thank you.”
I kicked my smile up a notch, sweetness oozing from the corners. I hoped she fucking drowned in it.