Page 31 of Love Expert

“Seemed a little too drunk for consent, but what do I know?” She lowers her gaze again, her long mahogany locks trickling forward to touchmy table. “It’s entirely possible you have an ongoing thing with her and consent was expressed long before alcohol joined the party.” She adds Dara’s name to her list. “Will you consider a formal date with her? Or is she more of a panty chewing situation?”

No. And no. “Not everyone believes in true love, ya know? Not everyone wants to find it.”

“You’re saying that because you’re scared of being hurt. Your fear is valid.” She peeks up at me from beneath long lashes. “I’m not saying you’re wrong for feeling that way. But you’re one of the lucky ones, Billy; you already got a taste of love. You know how good it feels.”

“I’mone of the lucky ones?” I flick my bottle cap and send it bouncing around inside my sink,tingingoff the side and settling in the bottom with a hum. “You thinkI’mlucky, Magnolia?! I was married for five fucking minutes before my wife up and died. I fell face first into parenthood and didn’t even have myluckthere to help me through the sleepless nights. I was so fucking tired, I forgot to eat for like, three days straight, and the instant I caught a full night’s rest, I got in my car, knocked on my best friend’s front door, and busted his face up so bad, he had to attend Aria’s funeral with a shiny black eye and a chipped tooth. Oh! And I forgot my new baby at home for the first hour, because I was tired.”

I tip my water up and chug the second half, gulping, gulping, gulpinguntil liquid sloshes in my belly and the bottle crinkles under my firm grip.

Lowering it again, I pitch the whole damn thing toward the sink, but unlike the cap, the plastic is too light and lands six feet short.

“If you consider me one of the lucky ones, then I’d hate to know the folks you pity.” I lean back against the counter, shielding the food drawer behind my broad frame, and fold my arms. “I doubt you’re in the business of finding me a good lay, Magnolia Sava, and I have no interest in falling in love. Which means you and I have absolutely nothing else to discuss.”

“I decided, Dad!” The shower stops upstairs, then the squeak of our towel rail proves my son won’t come racing down here buck-ass naked, at least.I can never be truly confident in this situation.Jeremy’s footsteps thunder along the stairs, then his panicked squeak follows when, like he does every other day, he takes the landing too fast, skids on the hardwood floor, and risks a busted butt if he falls.

Charging into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his body the way women do it, cinched around his chest, he glides to a stop and bashes his hip against the table so the whole structure jolts a full inch to the right and our precarious pile of clean laundry threatens to topple. “I want Chinese for dinner!” He shoulder-checks me aside, whips the draweropen, and snatches out a menu. “Dad said I could choose what to eat tonight, and I decided on Chinese. Cos I really like the rice.” He licks his lips. “Do you like Chinese rice too, Maggie?”

“I—”

“You’ll like it. I promise. It’s the best.” He snatches my phone from my back pocket and waltzes across to his little girlfriend, grinning and unlocking the device while he walks. “We’re gonna orderloads, and we always get lots of different things, cos sometimes I feel like having shrimp, but sometimes I feel like having chicken. My dad doesn’t even mind, cos then he has leftovers for lunch every day till it’s all gone, so it’s not really wasting money.” He taps the restaurant’s name and brings the device to his ear.

Stunned, Maggie’s eyes swing across to mine.

Yeah. My eight-year-old knows how to order takeout. So fuckin’ sue me.

“Hi! It’s Jeremy.”

Maggie closes her folder with a sigh—she’s finally giving up on me. Huzzah!—but then my son flips it open again.

She presses her hands to the table, preparing to stand, he sets his hand on her shoulder and pushes her down again.

“We want all the things, please. And we have a guest over for dinner too, so maybe you could send an extra fortune cookie this time?”

“Jeremy,” I groan. “No.”

“Yeah. And shelooooovesprawn chips.” Leaning closer, he draws Maggie into his scheme. “Ilove prawn chips, but they might send more since they know you’re here.” He brings his attention back to the phone. “No, ma’am. I didn’t say nothing except how we need extras tonight. Uh-huh.” He bobs his head. “Uh-huh! My dad will pay you with cash.” He glances over his shoulder. “You got cash, Dad?”

Instead of answering, I pull a long breath in and crush my eyes closed.

“You might need to put it on his account,” Jeremy amends. “He’s a bit grumpy right now, so he can’t talk. But food always cheers him up.” He nods. “Okay.” He nods again. “Okay.” And again. “Okay!” Bringing the phone from his ear, he kills the call and glances down to watch Maggie add to her notes. “Food cheers him up.” Cackling, Jeremy slams my phone onto the table and grabs her face in his palms. “Fooddoescheer him up! How come you’re writing things about my dad?”

Go ahead, Magnolia. Tell my eight-year-old how you intend to replace his mother.

“Your dad is my friend.” She studies him through dancing eyes and cheeks squished in his hands. “And I care about my friends being happy.So I’ve decided I’m going to learn every single thing I can about him, and then I’m gonna learn every single thing about other people too, and if I’m really lucky, I might find more friends for him to spend his time with.” She reaches up and wraps her palms around his wrists. “These peoplemustlike eight-year-old boys, especially. And basketballs. And…” She bounces her brows. “Spiderman underwear.”

Jeremy loses it, rolling all over the poor woman just trying to do her job. “Those aren’thisundies, silly!” He snatches a pair and shows them off proudly. “They’re mine!”

“Yours?”Fuck, her smile is so pretty.“Are you sure? I thought they belonged to your dad.”

“No wayyyyy! He just wears regular boxers.” And because he’s so fucking helpful, he digs his hand into the pile, sends the top half toppling to the floor, and emerges with a pair of silky black boxers. “These ones!” He shamelessly shoves them in her face. “See! He probably needs new ones soon, though, cos these are getting kinda old and holey.”

“Dude!” I stride across the kitchen and tear my underwear free of his little-fingered grip. Scooping the entire pile of laundry into my arms, and grabbing the bits on the floor, I turn on my heels and stride into the living room to dump them with their unfolded compatriots. “It’s not polite to show our underwear to strangers.” Fury and humiliation wage a war for dominance in my blood, made worse as I stalk back into the kitchen and find the two of them staring up at me with twin blushes and quivering grins. “Idon’tneed more friends, and I really like prawn chips too, which means there won’t be enough to share.” I gesture toward the front of my house. “See you around, Magnolia.”

“Dad!” Jeremy gasps, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest for added effect. “You’re rude!” Then he spins and pinches a lock of her hair between his fingers, playing with the length and running his fingertips along the mahogany strands. “You can have my prawn chips if you want, Maggie. I really like them, so this is kind of a big deal.”

“Oh… well…” Her taunting eyes briefly flicker across to mine. “That’s an extremely generous offer, Jeremy. You’re a very kind little boy.”

“Thanks. My dad says it’s important that I use my manners and think of other people, too. If I was in your house, maybe you’d think of me and let me taste one of those donuts you was talking about yesterday.”