Unfriending the Dr by Piper Sullivan
Ryan
“I’m gonna beat you, Ryan!”
The sound of Titus’ chortle tugged a wide grin from me. The kid was nice and sweet, but he had a mile-wide competitive streak when it came to gaming. And the best thing of all? He wasn’t above talking a little smack when Persephone wasn’t around.
“Eat my dust!” He could barely say the words without laughing to himself.
“It’s not over yet, kiddo.” Maybe his mom was right and we spent too many hours playing video games, because the kid was getting good enough that I actually had to try to beat him. “Winner buys dinner.”
He laughed again. “Grown-ups buy dinner. That’s the rule.”
“Dammit, you got me there.”
Titus gasped. “You said ‘dammit.’ Dollar in the jar.” Eyes identical to his mother’s never left the television as he pointed to the swear jar kept on an end table.
I shook my head, happily adding a buck to the jar. “You repeated the word, little man. Quarter in the jar.”
“After I win.” With his tongue stuck out of one corner of his mouth, Titus handled the controller like an expert, sending his kart zooming down the course. “Hey, Ryan?”
“What’s up, buddy?”
“If I put four quarters in the jar, can I say three more bad words?”
Who could say no to a request like that? A responsible adult, that’s who. “We both know your mom would kill me.”
“My friend Billy says that girlfriends always forgive boyfriends. If you were Mom’s boyfriend then she would only be mad at you for a little while, ’cause she has to forgive you.”
Maybe it was simply a strategic move, or maybe it was a genuine question. Either way, the end result was that the kid wiped the floor with me.
“Yes! I won! I won!” And his victory came with a wild-armed dance. He stopped and turned to look at me. “Do you have a girlfriend, Ryan?”
“Nope. Do you?”
Titus frowned and shook his head so fast his blond hair smacked his forehead. “Ew, no. The only girls I like are Mom and Aunt Megan. And Rosie, but she always brings cookies.”
“It always starts with cookies,” I told him, laughing at his horrified expression.
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
I shrugged at the irony that even a five-year-old was questioning my love life, or lack thereof. “Just haven’t found the right girl yet.”
His blond brows crinkled as he took in my words. “How do you know if it’s the right girl?”
“Cookies?”
Titus rolled his eyes. “Ryan.”
“I don’t know, kid. You find a girl you think is pretty and spend time with her, see if she’s right for you. Take her out and get to know her.”
“You and Mom go out all the time. You laugh together. Why isn’t she the right girl?”
She was. That wasn’t a burden I could put on Titus, but that was the truth. “Sometimes, the right girl is a girl you already know. Sometimes, she brings you cookies.”
His cheeks and ears turned a bright shade of pink and I laughed. “Ryan,” he whined just as the door opened and Persephone’s smiling face appeared. “Hey, Mom!”
“Hey, guys. I brought dinner.”
Titus turned to me, a knowing smile that was far too mature for him splashed across his baby face. “Cookies or pizza?”
Persephone blinked. “Pizza with salad and wings,” she clarified, a frown on her face. “Cheesecake, not cookies.”
Titus shrugged. “I love pizza.”
“Don’t we all? Did you have fun with Ryan?”
“Yep. Always.” The little boy grabbed the box of wings to help his mother, another sign of the man he would someday become. “How was your day, Mom?”
“Good, I guess. Busy.” She set the boxes down on the butcher block table in the center of the kitchen and raced upstairs to change, the way she always did.
“What kind of pizza do we have tonight?”
Titus looked up with a smile. “Meat and veggie lovers. Your favorite.”
He was right, it was my favorite, and that only made it even clearer that Persephone was the woman for me. And when she came back into the kitchen, looking sexy and natural in a pair of pink yoga pants and a loose T-shirt that was so old and thin, I could see the outline of her bra and her nipples peeking through both pieces of fabric, that only confirmed it.
“Ready to get our grub on?”
“Always,” we answered at the same time.
Persephone’s violet eyes rolled skyward. “Sometimes, I think you two are twins.”
“I’m not old,” Titus insisted.
“Or mature,” I shot back and stuck out my tongue.
“Yeah, ’cause that means old.”
We shared another laugh, and for a moment, I thought Persephone might be right. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t give me a chance because I acted like her five-year-old kid.
Dinner started as it always did when we ate together, which we did most nights: quietly, as we all focused on the food in front of us. When Titus tried to skip the salad, Persephone added some to his plate. And then mine.
“Vegetables make you big and strong,” she told her son. “And healthy.” She aimed her violet gaze my way.
I sighed and pushed my plate toward her, frustrated that she couldn’t see how good we could be together. We were already a family, of sorts. Unorthodox, sure, but we loved each other like family, supported each other like family, laughed together and made fun of each other, too. Just like family. Except the two grown-ups didn’t share a bed. We didn’t live together, didn’t kiss except for the odd peck on the cheek, but I didn’t want to be relegated to just a one-night stand, dammit. I’m not. The voice came right on the heels of that last thought. I’m not a one-night stand. Not yet.
Oliver had gotten in my head because he was right. I needed to make my move or move on from this woman.
“Something on your mind, Ry?” Her steady gaze studied me, tried to figure out what was on my mind, and honestly? I wished she could. It would make things a hell of a lot easier.
Yeah, you.“Nah.” I shrugged. “Just thinking about cars. What else?”
Her violet gaze spoke volumes, and what it said the loudest was that she didn’t believe me. But that was the good thing about best friends—they knew when to push and when to let it go.
“Hmmm,” was her only reply.
“How was your day, honey?”
She laughed and rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Work is always great. The people, though? Not as great.” There were signs of tension on her face now, signs she’d tried to hide earlier, and I wanted to know who had upset her.
I asked the question with my eyes while Titus ate every topping, one by one, off his pizza before annihilating the crust.
A brief shake of her head told me she didn’t want to talk in front of Titus, and I nodded in return. “Isn’t that always the case? If I could just deal with the cars and not the drivers, my job would be perfect.”
Persephone laughed, and the sound was rich and husky, the same sound she’d made when my fingertips traced the curve of her breasts. “You hear that, Titus? Ryan wants to talk to cars all day.”
A quick look at the little boy found him asleep with a hot wing in his hand, ranch dressing all over his mouth and pizza sauce smeared across his forehead.
“Is it wrong that I feel proud of him in this moment?”
Persephone laughed. “Men. You’re all alike, even when you’re little boys.”
She wasn’t too far off the mark. “I’ll hose off the little human and you can take care of the kitchen?”
“Oh, sure, leave me with the so-called women’s work.”
“I’m happy to strap on that floral apron and clean the kitchen, if that’s what you want?” I already knew the answer.
“No. Put those ridiculous muscles to good use trying to hose off a sleeping five-year-old.” Her hands waved at Titus, asleep in my arms. “Have fun.”
I winked. “I always do.” The kid was easy to take care of on most days, but when he was asleep, he was perfectly malleable. There were no adorable faces to convince me to read a fourth of fifth bedtime story, no arguments about why nighttime teeth brushing was unnecessary. He was a fun little dude, but tonight I was eager to get back to the older member of the Vanguard family.
Ten minutes later, the boy was washed and in pajamas, asleep in his bed, one leg hanging out from the blanket. I kissed his forehead and left the door half open. “Night, little man.”
“Night, Ry,” he mumbled. “Love you.”
I used to think it was bullshit when people would say how much kids changed your life, your way of thinking. And then Titus came along with his open requests for hugs, his easy affection. It had changed me. For the better. “Right back atcha, kiddo.”
He smiled and turned over, and I went in search of the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about. Dreaming about.
The kitchen was empty, but mostly clean for a woman who hated cleaning more than any other chore. Why she didn’t just hire a cleaning service, I had no idea, but she refused whenever I brought it up. When she wasn’t in the living room, I smiled, knowing exactly where she would be.
In the back porch, overlooking the gorgeous flower and herb garden that formed the perimeter of her backyard, she sat on the sofa with her legs crossed at the ankles, propped up on the banister. Two beers were uncapped on the small table, each on a wicker coaster.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
She was deep in thought, but eventually a long sigh escaped from her lips. “Why do men have to suck so much? Present company excluded, of course.”
“Of course.” I smiled and took the seat beside her. “Want to talk about it?”
Persephone shook her head and sighed heavily, and then she started talking. “What is it about me that made a guy think I’d want to be his side piece? Do I have ‘slut’ or ‘easy’ tattooed across my forehead? Is there some vibe that professional side pieces give out to show they’re available?”
I wanted to hunt down that asshole and give him a taste of my fists. “Of course you don’t, Persephone.”
She shook her head, blocking out my words before she turned to me, eyes sparkling beautifully in the moonlight. “Then what is it?”
“You really want to know?” Sometimes, she asked a question when she didn’t really want an answer, so I found it easier to just clarify.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Easy. You’re gorgeous, smart, bubbly and accomplished—too much woman for most of us mortal men. Any man in his right mind would want you, and would say or do whatever it took to have you. If that means making you feel like you’re not worthy of being more than a side piece, for a chance, that’s what they’ll do.”
She huffed out a laugh. “That can’t be it.”
“It is. This guy already has a wife and kid at home, and if he was able to convince you to be his side piece, he’d have birthday cake at home, and birthday cake with ice cream on the side. That’s what I’d call a lucky bastard.”
Her laughter sounded against the backdrop of singing crickets. “Is food the only thing you think about?”
Our eyes connected, the heat flowing back and forth between us like a live wire. “Not the only thing, Persephone.”
She let out a shaky, shuddery breath. “Ry.”
“He’s an asshole,” I rushed on, because the last thing I wanted was to make her feel like I was hitting on her after that guy propositioned her at work. “Want me to kick his ass?”
“Yes. No. He’s not worth it, but thanks for listening. You’re the best.”
She laid her head on my shoulder and we sat together in a peaceful silence, watching as the stars slowly popped out over the ridge, illuminating the night sky.
