“If someone ever cooked for you,” he repeats. “Does that mean no one has ever cooked for you?”

I think about this, hard, and conclude: “I mean, my parents and my grandparents, of course. But no guy, no.”

“Your ex must have, though. You lived together, right?”

I shake my head, finally able to admit to myself that Werner was a straight up …

I abandon the attempt to find a non-filthy way to characterize Werner. He was an asshole, pure and simple. “He cooked for me if you count eggs and mac and cheese. And takeout pizza. Also, he made me cold cereal right before he cheated on me.”

Brody’s eyes narrow, and his jaw ticks. “Can I just repeat that your ex is a criminally shitty human being?”

“As many times as you’d like.”

He squints into the sun, then smiles at me. My body temperature rises a hundred and fifty degrees.

“So here’s how it’s going to go,” he says. “We’re going to drop Justin off with Zoë, head back to my place, and I’ll cook you dinner.”

“You cook?” I ask, although if the bad boy changes diapers, why am I surprised that he also cooks?

“Just one of my many, many skills,” he says, eyes all sexy intent. “Wait till you experience all the things I’m good at.”

Okay, maybe I’m not so much surprised as struck dumb by the embarrassment of riches that is Brody Wilder.

And a little bit terrified, because I’m pretty sure that I’m falling for the bad boy.

29

Brody

We drop off Justin first. Rachel waits in the truck while I walk Justin up to the door.

“How’d it go?” Zoë asks, taking him from me. He fusses a little and clings to my shirt. I have to admit, it makes me feel like a superhero, even though I feel sad for Justin, too. I wish Zoë had found a way to give him a life where all the people he loves were in one place. That’s not the way it is, though.

But I can make sure Justin always knows he’s loved. I can do that.

“I want to see him more,” I tell her. “I’ll take him whenever you need me to and I can. I want him to know I’m in his life.”

Zoë nods, like she’s been expecting this. “I want to take a girls’ trip to California next month. Would you want to do four days then?”

“Email me the dates, and if I can work it around my trips or get a couple of hours of childcare from my family, I’m in.”

She beams. “Thank you. I know you don’t have to do this, but I appreciate it.”

“I’m not doing it for you.” I don’t say it angrily. Just honestly. “I’m doing it for Justin.”

“I know.”