Kai climbs off the bed, taking Max’s monitor with him as he hunches over and hops out of the van. He holds his hand out to me. “Come with me.”
I eye him with skepticism. “Why?”
“Because I’m about to have a heatstroke in that fucking van and I need to show you something.”
“You’re awfully dramatic, Baseball Daddy.”
I place my hand in his, the calluses on his palm rough against mine. I held his hand in bed last week, but I don’t remember the size difference being this comical. It’s no wonder he can alter the path of a baseball as if it were nothing. It must be tiny in his grasp.
As quietly as possible, we enter the house. Max’s toys and playmat take up the entire living room and I love that Kai doesn’t give a fuck about crawling over them every day. This home is his son’s home too and he’s not trying to hide it.
There are endless dishes in the sink that I remind myself to tackle tomorrow. Piles of laundry he needs to fold. Knowing him, he’s going to try to get it all done on his one day off this week, but I’ll pick up the slack when he’s back on the field tomorrow, and I’m sure he’ll be annoyed that I helped. He’s prideful like that, wanting to do it all on his own.
Kai ushers me in front of him, the two of us standing by the kitchen island, and that’s when I see it. A brand-new professional-grade mixer sits in the corner of the counter, including dry ingredient storage filled with everything I could need.
“You can’t keep baking in your van,” he says. “It’s too hot and you can barely move in there. Use my kitchen, even when I’m home and you’re not watching Max.”
I slowly step into the space, my hand roaming over the ivory mixer. “You bought this for me?”
“Well, you’re not getting paid to watch my kid; I figured it was the least I could do.”
My head jerks his way, a startled laugh escaping me. “I’m absolutely getting paid this summer. The Warriors are paying me.”
“Oh.” He studies my new work area. “I’ll just return all this then.”
“Don’t you dare.” I hold up an accusatory finger but all it does is bring his stunning smile to life. “It’s beautiful, Kai. Thank you.”
“Thank you. For taking care of Max.” He pauses, his voice softer. “He really likes you.”
“Well, the feeling is mutual.” I look back at the mixer. “You didn’t have to do this, though.”
“You promised to help me find my balance in life. I thought I’d try to help you find your joy.”
My heart cracks at that, opening in a way I don’t want it to. He’s too good, too kind. Too goddamn hot with that backwards hat and that tattooed leg exposed. Guy thighs . . . who would’ve known they were my new kryptonite?
“So, what’s next?” He casually leans back on the counter, ankles crossed. “After your interview with Food & Wine.”
What is next? I haven’t thought that far.
My entire life, I’ve thrived on achievements. All-American softball pitcher in high school. Check. Top of my class in culinary school. Check. Named the best in my field by winning the highest honor in my industry. Check.
So, what comes after there are no more checkmarks left to chase?
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Will your debt be repaid?”
“What debt?”
“The non-existent debt you owe Monty for adopting you. That’s what you meant in Miami, right? You feel like you owe him for what he gave up for you.”
For fuck’s sake. Is it an older guy thing? A single parent thing? Or am I that obvious?
“I’m not that dense, Miller. You love him yet you’re never around. Is that why you’ve stayed away? Because you feel guilty?”
“Can you not be so mature and intuitive for like two seconds?”
He shifts, stepping closer. “Miller—”
I hold my hands up to stop him. “I just . . . after everything he’s done for me, he deserves to live the life he missed out on.”
Kai’s brows pinch. “The life he missed out on? He misses you.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. He never used to talk about you. Did you know that? He and I are close, and I thought you were a kid because Monty never talks about you. I think he missed you so much, it hurt him to bring you up. And now? In the weeks since you’ve been around, he hasn’t shut up. He’s beaming like a fucking dork. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”