6. Monroe

CHAPTER 6

MONROE

" L eave it to Monroe to meet a sexy baseball player after being in court for fucking up someone's car," Asher, one of my two best friends, said on the video call. She had her black hair up in a bun the way she did most days when we were at school.

I rolled my eyes, but Reana giggled. "That's true. She does meet men in the weirdest places."

"One time," I said, trying to give them both the evil eye at the same time through the phone screen, while suddenly regretting calling the two of them in the first place. What was a girl to do?

I had met an incredibly hot baseball player in the exact manner she'd described, but it wasn't like I'd intended it to happen.

The three of us couldn't be more different. Asher was always tan with the black hair thanks to her Navajo father while Reana took after her Nordic mother. Then I fell somewhere in between with my strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes with a smattering of freckles. I didn't know who, I looked like, if anyone, since I never saw or met the woman my dads used as a surrogate.

"So…" Reana drew out. "Are you seeing him again?"

"It wasn't like that," I told them. "He was just there and easy to talk to."

"You gave him your number, right?" Asher asked.

Well, they had me there. "Yes. Only because he said that I was the pick-me-up he needed this morning and I wanted him to have it in case he needed another."

The two of them broke out into a fit of laughter.

Once Asher had calmed down, she said, "Of course that's the reason."

"No, really," I countered. "I'm being serious. It wasn't like that." When they laughed again, I rolled my eyes and said, "I hate you both."

"No, you don't." Asher still had laughter in her voice as she spoke. Of course I didn't hate them and if this had been one of them in my position, I would've been doing the same thing.

"Fine." I sighed. "I don't. Now, when are we getting together again?"

Reana gave me a devilish grin. "I thought we could go to a baseball game." Asher cackled as I rolled my eyes. "I mean, I'm googling that man and all I can say is… wow."

"I looked him up, too," Asher agreed. "I think they'll make really cute babies."

"What's that?" I asked, pretending like someone else had called my name. "I have to go now? Oh, no…" The deadpan tone of my voice only made them roar.

"You do not have to go."

"Actually, I do. I'm having dinner with the dads tonight. Dad insisted when he left me for the office this morning."

After Cobb dropped me off at home this morning, I'd taken a shower because I'd been soaked through and gotten dressed again. I also texted him about his sweatshirt that I'd kept and put it through the wash. All before talking to them, but I still had things I wanted to get done before I went to dinner.

Asher let out a long sigh. "Fine. Go if you must, but we need to make plans. This is our last summer of some freedom before we have to be adults."

She wasn't wrong, but I hadn't told them that I probably had to work most of this summer to pay back damage to Owen's car. Though I couldn't imagine a window was that expensive.

We all said our goodbyes and I ended the call so that I could finish up a few more things.

Cobb's sweatshirt sat on the bed, reminding me of how it had smelled before I'd washed it. Like him and while he'd said I could keep it, I almost wished that I hadn't washed it.

Around six-thirty, I headed to my dads' house. When I opened the door, I was greeted with the most amazing aroma that I could've imagined. Something with garlic and tomatoes which was the tell-tale sign that Papa had made lasagna for dinner, which caused me to do a little excited dance. He didn't make it often because he said it took too long and most days, he didn't have the time.

But he'd done it today.

The reason it took too long was because he made everything from scratch. Except maybe the cheese, but he did have to grate it all. The pasta would be fresh and the sauce his own secret recipe.

"It smells amazing in here," I told him as I came around the corner. He would've heard the door and known I was coming.

"Thank you."

"Did you go easy on yourself and buy the noodles at the store?"

He scowled at me. Papa came from a long line of Italian women who would've chopped his hands off if he'd used store-bought pasta. My grandma on that side had passed away last year, but her main goal in life had been to feed everyone until their stomachs burst.

"I know, I know." I held my hands up. "Grandma would come back to haunt you."

"She would and you do know it." He was working on the salad right then by chopping up a head of lettuce.

"At least you'd get to see her again."

He snorted.

"What's the occasion?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" He took the colander of lettuce over to the sink to wash it.

"The special occasion. You don't normally go through all this trouble on a random Monday. In fact…" I snapped my fingers as this occurred to me. "I'm shocked that you're home in enough time to do it on a Monday. What gives?"

He turned to me and put his hands on his hips. "Can't a man make a nice dinner for his family?"

"Of course he can. I thoroughly appreciate it." Especially knowing that I'd be taking leftovers to put in my fridge for tomorrow.

"I just thought that since we were having dinner together, anyway, that this would be nice. Your dad works hard and you both have dealt with a bunch of stress lately."

"That's all true," I agreed. "But how can you be here? You're usually in the shop until eight or later."

He shook his head as he went back to work on the lettuce. "I finished the dining table this morning. I don't handle shipping and won't be starting the next project until tomorrow."

"So half day."

"Exactly."

Papa's furniture was popular, but since he refused to mass produce anything, there was a waitlist. He had people who worked for him and once trained and to his standards, they helped, but there were projects that Papa was special requested on. Some only wanted him and they were willing to wait—and pay for—him.

The garage door came to life in the distance, which meant Dad was home. Moments later, he came in the same door that I had.

"Lasagna?" he asked as soon as he'd turned the corner, causing Papa and me to both laugh. "What?"

"We just had this conversation," I explained. Dad nodded, then gave me a quick hug then kissed me on the side of the head before going over and kissing Papa.

"Anything I can do?" he asked.

Papa shook his head. "Monroe offered to set the table, so we're all good here."

"I did?" I asked with a grin because of course I'd set the table.

"You did."

"OK." Dad slapped his hands together. "Then I'll run upstairs to change real quick before we eat."

He hurried off while I got everything I needed to set the table.

We had a formal dining room that we almost never used when it was just the three of us. There was no sense in using that huge table, so we'd sit in the kitchen at eat at the more normal-sized one. Still big enough to bring the food to the table and it was where we'd spent most dinners when I'd been growing up.

Then we all sat down and began to dish the food out onto our plates.

"How did the rest of your day go, Monroe?" Dad asked as he added salad to his plate next to the large piece of lasagna he'd taken.

"Good."

"What'd you do?" he asked before looking over at Papa. "I think we came to an agreement today. She has to pay for the repairs to Owen's car and the prosecutor won't press charges."

"Good."

Then their eyes were back on me. "Oh, I went for a coffee, like I told you."

His eyebrows raised. "And? You couldn't have spent the entire day on a single cup of coffee."

"No." I blew out a breath. "I met someone at the coffee shop. We talked. It was good. Kind of cathartic, actually. Anyway… then I came home, showered because I'd gotten caught in the rain, talked to Asher and Reana, now dinner. That pretty much covers it."

"You had to walk from the bus in the rain?" Papa asked. "I told you she should've taken her car."

"No. It was fine. I didn't walk in the rain. The guy I met gave me a ride home, but it was pouring and we had to run for his car."

"‘Guy'?" Dad's voice told me everything I needed to know. He was suspicious. "You gave him your address."

"I mean… Yes." Then I took a bite of lasagna. "I had to for him to drop me off."

"Monroe." He sat back and sighed. "Aren't you still dealing with the last guy you dated? How many times have I told you not to trust men to have your best interest at heart?"

My cheeks heated. He had told me that my entire life. Not that all men were bad, but that I had to be suspicious until I found out if this one was a good one. Guys would say anything they thought they needed to if it meant me sleeping with them.

One benefit of two dads was that I got the straight talk about what men were like. Gay or straight, men were men.

"I know that," I told him. "That's not what this was. I…" I blew out a breath. "It wasn't the best morning, I needed coffee, this other guy… It doesn't matter. I ended up talking to this man and it felt good to unload my Owen shit on someone who didn't have an opinion." I shrugged. "I said I was taking the bus, but he didn't want me to walk in the rain. Besides, you know who he is."

Papa's eyebrows furrowed. "We know him?"

I shook my head. "You don't know him, but you know who he is."

"Well?" Dad asked. "Who is it?"

"Cobb Briggs. He's—"

"A pitcher for the Knights," Dad finished because of course he would. "He was just traded here. Today is his first start."

"Whatever that means," I muttered. "He was perfectly nice. Didn't do anything weird. That's all."

"Cobb Briggs was at the coffeehouse?" Papa asked. "How random."

"Yeah. I don't know why he was there." Because he hadn't told me. "But he was there."

Dad snorted. "Does that mean you're watching the game with us tonight?"

I bit my lips together and felt the heat creep up my neck.

Watching the games with them was something I did sometimes. Not all the time, but now that they knew I'd met Cobb… it might've made watching tonight weird.

But yeah. I was watching. I'd decided that earlier.

Which was exactly what I did and Cobb on the mound made it hard for me to keep the promise to myself that I'd be only friends with him—assuming he wanted that much. Dad was right. I was still dealing with the last guy I'd dated.

After the game, I got a text from Cobb asking if I'd liked the game. They'd won and it had been an exciting one, mostly because Cobb hadn't been giving up many hits, so when someone had gotten one, it had been exciting to watch to see if the other players would get the runner out.

Plus, I picked up a few more things from my dads, mostly because I was paying closer attention.

I did, but I do always enjoy it when I watch with my dads. I'm not sure if it's the game or how worked up they get.

Lol, I bet , he sent back. Are they coming to a game anytime soon? You coming with them?

Good question , I told him. Dad has season tickets but doesn't go to every game. He gives away some of the tickets.

The three little buttons popped up right away. It's a lot of games to go to.

Though I didn't want to stop talking to him, I also didn't know what to say, so I decided to talk to him the way I would talk to any of my friends.

I have to go back to the courthouse on Wednesday morning to finalize the agreement. Will definitely need more coffee. Then I added an eyeroll emoji.

I bet you will, Lawbreaker.

I shook my head but couldn't keep the grin at bay. That was all he said and where the conversation ended.

Two days later, I was back at the courthouse sitting across from the prosecutor and Owen. Again. Dad said Owen didn't need to be there but had figured he would be just to fuck with me. His words.

Dad dressed like the high-priced lawyer that he was, but sometimes, his mouth sounded like a sailor's. Somehow, Papa—who looked like he'd have the potty mouth—swore way less than Dad did.

"So we're in agreement?" Dad asked the prosecutor, but he was looking directly at Owen.

"We do," the prosecutor told him. "I've explained that given Monroe's history, I have no interest in prosecuting this. There's no reason to. Not to mention the details of the event. He's satisfied with reimbursement of damages." Then he slid a sheet of paper across the table toward Dad.

"These repairs have already been done?" he asked, to which the prosecutor said they had been.

I peeked over Dad's shoulder and my stomach dropped. That total couldn't be for only a window.

After scanning the sheet, I saw that it wasn't. It was also to replace the leather on the seat as well as a couple of other things I didn't really understand.

"The leather?" I asked. "Really?"

Owen smirked. "The glass tore it."

"No, it didn't." Now this pissed me off and my heart started beating quicker and my body tensed. "There's no way—"

"This is fine," Dad said, cutting me off while angrily looking down at me. "I'll write a check right now so we can complete all of this."

"Oh so Daddy's bailing you out," Owen muttered but we all heard it. He would've wanted me to hear it.

I opened my mouth but Dad shut it with a single look. All I could do was sit there and steam.

Dad pulled his checkbook out, scribbled the amount and handed it over. Both Owen and I signed a document stating that the matter has been concluded to both of our satisfaction and Dad got something from the prosecutor that he didn't intend to press charges.

That was it. My dealings here were done and if I was lucky, I'd never see Owen again.

He left first and Dad said I had to wait the allotted time before I could leave.

"That's it?" I asked for confirmation.

"That's it as long as you don't do this again."

"I won't."

"What are you going to now?"

"Coffee." I grinned up at him.

"Of course. You drove yourself this morning, so I'm sure you'll find your way home." Dad pushed to his feet and I followed. "I'll talk to your papa tonight about reaching out to his friend at the coffee shop."

"Sounds good." Because there was no way to avoid that job and at this point, I didn't want to. I wanted to pay them back every penny.

He gave me a hug then escorted me down the elevator until we parted on the street. Dad went his way and I crossed at the corner to go to my now-favorite coffee shop.

Once I was inside, I hurried over to order my iced mocha. Right as I'd grabbed it, I noticed Cobb at an actual table by the window looking down at his phone.

Trying to hide the smile that immediately appeared when I saw him, I hurried over, hoping he wouldn't see me before I dropped into the seat across him.

"Fancy meeting you here," I said, causing his head to snap up. At least he smiled when he saw that it was me. "What are you doing here?"

"You said you'd need coffee after your meeting. How did it go?" Cobb looked so damn good.

His dark hair was tamed perfectly, his dark-brown eyes danced as if he were enjoying my little surprise appearance, and he was wearing a blue T-shirt that fit just perfectly with jeans that probably fit just right as well.

This was almost better than him in his uniform the other night.

"Yeah, but you didn't know what time my meeting was."

He raised an eyebrow. "How did it go? Are you done with the ex-dickhole?" I snorted at the nickname I'd given Owen when I'd met Cobb here on Monday.

"Hopefully. There's no reason for me to have to see him again. It's done."

"That's good."

"It is." But it didn't go unnoticed that he hadn't told me why he was at this coffee house either day that I'd met him here. Mostly, it was probably none of my business, but talking to him had helped the other day. I would've like to be that for him if he wanted me to be.

"You know…" Cobb leaned across the table on his arms so he wouldn't have to talk as loudly as we were. The place was busy again. "We should meet on purpose. Like for lunch."

I swallowed hard. Talk about meeting the potentially right guy at the wrong time. Cobb was beautiful and seemed to be sweet and caring. Now was just not the right time for me to jump into something.

"As friends?" I asked, cocking my head to the side while trying to get a read on him.

"Yeah, as friends. I can only do friends right now."

The tension in my shoulders released.

Talk about perfect. He could only do friends at the same time I could only do friends.

But the question was: Why could he only do friends?

"Perfect," I said with a smile. "Friends it is. When do you want to get lunch?"