She’d learned how he had been forced to step up for his seven younger siblings when he was sixteen, after their father left, but he spoke of his brothers and sisters only with love and affection. None of the burden he must’ve felt at having so much responsibility at such a young age was apparent in the way he talked about them.

She’d never been as intrigued by a man as she was by him, thus the breathing trouble. And after he asked her to have dinner with him tonight, she’d been left breathless, winded—and nervous. Really, really nervous. She hadn’t been out on a proper date in, well… years. Unless she counted her good friend Troy Kennedy, who’d been her plus one in the city while she served as his. But Troy didn’t count. There’d never been anything other than platonic friendship between them, despite the desire of Lucy and their friend Cameron Abbott to see them together.

It wasn’t happening with Troy, but something had definitely happened last night with Grayson.

Emma touched her fingers to her lips, reliving the soft, sweet kiss he’d given her before suggesting they call it a night. If it’d been up to her, he’d still be here and they’d still be talking—and maybe kissing, too.

She’d been so wrapped up in taking care of Simone, working and handling all the parenting and household duties alone that there hadn’t been anyone serious since her relationship with Simone’s father ended in spectacular—and violent—fashion.

“Don’t think about that,” she whispered. “Not today when you have a handsome guy taking you out for dinner.” Her mind wandered once again to that fleeting kiss and how it had made her yearn for so much more. Another of her deep, dark secrets was one she hadn’t told Grayson. She hadn’t had sex since the night she conceived Simone.

“Ugh.” She dropped her head into her hands, disgusted with herself for hiding behind the cloak of motherhood as an excuse to keep her distance from men. One year had become two, and two became three, and three had become a decade while she was busy raising her daughter, who would be ten in February.

She hadn’t planned to put her own life on hold when she had Simone. It had just worked out that way. A single mother of a young child didn’t spend her evenings out at bars or clubs or any of the other places women her age met men.