23. Zane

23

ZANE

Swapping keys with the hired driver and asking him to get my Ferrari home safe seemed like a good idea…

Until this exact moment.

Aiden is asleep in the car seat and Mira is sitting next to me. Her sundress of the day is another absolute mindfuck. I mean, she's covered, for fuck's sake. The woman is wearing multiple layers of clothing.

So why am I more focused on the way her soft thigh would feel against my palm than I am on the fucking road?

I look up just as the light at the intersection shifts to red. Without thinking, I throw an arm out to hold Mira back and slam on the brakes.

She lets out a yelp and her breasts press against my forearm.

"My bad," I breathe as we careen to a stop, pulling my arm back. "Touchy brakes."

She flattens herself against the seat. "You usually drive a Ferrari. Are you trying to tell me this car's brakes are better?"

I glance at her sidelong. "What do you know about cars?"

"I know Ferraris don't have room for a car seat."

Aaand there it is. The reason I showed up at the store today: Mira thinks I'm a shit father.

I don't need to be looking at my phone to remember the text she sent me—to hear in my head the exact way she would have spit every word at me if we'd been in the same room at any point in the last three days.

"I've been thinking about getting another car, actually. Someone who doesn't know how to mind their own business told me to make space for Aiden in my life." I shrug. "Might be worth a shot."

Her lips are torn between a scowl and a smile. "That person sounds like a genius. You should listen to everything they tell you."

"If I did, I'd never do anything else." I open and close my hand in the universal sign for blah blah blah. "She has a lot to say."

Finally, a scowl wins and her full mouth twists downward. She crosses her arms over her chest and all I can think is that I now know what her breasts look and feel like.

That doesn't make it any easier to focus on the road.

It's been a long time since I've driven in a car with a woman. When I go home with someone, I pay for a rideshare or follow behind them in my car. They don't come back to my condo and I never offer to drive.

It's been years, but I still remember reaching across the console to touch Paige. My vision was blurred, cross-eyed, chopped and screwed to oblivion. It took me two tries to even find her leg.

By the end of that night, Daniel didn't have his.

"Sorry," Mira says suddenly, "should I grab my phone and text you all of this? That's how we're supposed to communicate now, right?"

"I don't text and drive, Mira. Safety first, buckle up, ten and two." I toss her a wink. "You get the idea."

Her eyes roll and she mumbles under her breath, "It's not like you'd answer, anyway."

I bite back my ready retort— I responded to your message. I closed down an entire store. I bought enough stuffed animals that we might all drown in them —and keep my eyes on the road.

Whoever I paid for the delivery back at the store must have been extremely grateful, because the delivery truck pulls up at the same time I do. Mira carries Aiden inside while I direct the shipment upstairs.

Within an hour, the old queen-sized frame is gone and Aiden's new bed is put together.

The frame is low to the ground with a built-in canopy over top. Gauzy curtains hang down all around the bed, creating a little nook that has got to be more fun to sleep in than the fucking hall closet.

A large disc chair in the corner overflows with stuffed animals and a new bookshelf next to it stands ready to be filled with whatever kinds of books four-year-olds read.

Can four-year-olds even read? Add that to the shit I need to Google.

I hang the Spiderman poster on the wall next to his bed and then throw open the door. "Come back here, Aiden!"

He's been in the living room with Mira since we got back. She coaxes him away from whatever they've been doing. I can hear her hyping him up down the hallway. "Your dad got your room ready so fast. Isn't that super nice of him?"

Aiden doesn't say anything, but I lowkey appreciate the thought. Shit with Mira is complicated, but she isn't trying to get between me and my son.

I'm lounging in the disc chair with an army of stuffies on top of me when Aiden steps into the doorway.

He pauses. Looks around, eyes wide, taking in every inch of the room.

I'm on the edge of this stupid chair that I might need a crane to haul myself out of, waiting for his face to break into a grin.

After all of this work, he's going to jump for joy and sprint circles around this room. He's going to dive bomb into his new bed and throw his arms around my neck in gratitude.

But Aiden doesn't do any of that.

He doesn't react.

He doesn't say a word.

"Well?" I finally prod. "What do you think?"

He seemed excited back at the store, but now, his shoulders tuck up around his ears. He's like a little turtle disappearing into his shell.

Mira kneels down next to him, her hand on his back. Now is not the time to notice the way her dress slides up her thighs, so I ignore it entirely.

"Your room is so cool," she whispers to him. "Don't you love it?"

Aiden bites his lower lip and finally nods.

I may not be an expert with kids, but I know when he's lying.

"I'll let you look around and get settled," I say instead of following the trail of my disappointment and decapitating the stuffed snake currently tangled around my leg. That wouldn't solve anything.

I lift my hand to ruffle his hair, but Aiden shifts away from me as I pass him in the doorway.

I'm not even five feet from his door when I finally hear his raspy little voice. "Different."

"It's very different. Is it a good different or a bad different?" Mira asks sweetly. Aiden doesn't say anything, so she continues, "It's okay if you don't know the answer right now."

Aiden sniffles. "Everything is different."

All at once, he bursts into tears.

Mira is quick to calm him. I feel like a creep listening in from the hallway—like I'm an intruder in my own damn house. She may not have much experience with kids, but she's good with Aiden.

Better with him than I am.

I showed up today and swiped my card, but it's not the same as understanding how to talk to him. Making space for him in my house isn't the same as knowing him.

Fuck.

"A lot of things have changed really fast. That can be a lot to take in," she explains. "It's okay if you need time to adjust."

Mira starts singing, her voice low and sweet, and I want it to be me, goddammit. I want Aiden to talk to me . I want him to come to me when he's upset.

But in a surprisingly selfless twist, I'm also glad he has someone even if it isn't me.

Aiden is the only thing that matters. I'm keeping Mira in my life so she can help me with my son—until I can become the father he needs.

The only question is how long that's going to take.

And if Mira and I can survive each other until then.