Saylor (Signature Sweethearts #9) - Kelsie Rae Page 0,2

your little sister is a whole new level.

But it’s been nice having her here even if I’ve had to bite my tongue more times than I can count to stop myself from saying, “I told you so.”

Because if there’s anything beneficial from my past, it’s that I learned the truth about love at the ripe old age of eighteen. It isn’t real. Not for most of us. It’s like winning the lottery. Sure, a few people hit the jackpot like my sister, Sway, and her fiancé, Anthony. But the rest of us? We’re stuck throwing money down the drain in the form of blind dates and stolen moments with strangers who won’t call the next morning.

I sigh, then collapse onto the couch next to Skye and answer her question. “It was fine.”

“Liar. Tell me all the details, Say.”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you. Was he there?”

He. As in my very own He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Heaven forbid we actually say the bastard’s name. Still, I know exactly who she’s referring to, just like Harry Potter whenever someone would talk about his nemesis, Lord Voldemort.

At least Harry wasn’t attracted to his adversary, though.

I, on the other hand, can’t help it. The guy is a football god. Or he was until his knee exploded on national television. But even then, he’s been a coveted bachelor with devilish good looks and a magnetic personality that’s opened more doors than I can count.

Owen.

Owen Daniels, to be exact. The bastard who stole my heart and didn’t bother to return it when he left me here.

Releasing a shaky breath, I answer Skye. “No. He didn’t walk his son into class or anything.”

I’ve been freaking out ever since I saw Grady Daniels’ registration papers for my class. Why? Because his dad wrecked me years ago, and I still haven’t managed to pick up the pieces and put myself back together again. Owen, however, obviously didn’t have much trouble leaving me in the past since he has a freaking kid now, who happens to be enrolled in my class.

What are the damn odds?

I should never try to win the lottery because the odds are definitely not in my favor. Ever. Why can’t I catch a break?

“So, his kid was there?” Skye prods, clearly more invested in the situation than I am. Or maybe she can see how much I need to vent. I’ve been holding everything in for far too long.

“Grady,” I return, snuggling into the gray couch cushions. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And he’s adorable,” I reply grudgingly.

Sweet. Well-mannered. A real chip off the old block.

“Does he…look like him?”

“Yup. Could pass for his twin if you had them side by side and the same age.”

Tucking her feet beneath her butt on the couch, Skye rests her head in her hand while making sure to tread carefully. You’d think I was a ticking time bomb.

“And how are you handling it?”

I purse my lips. “Looking into the eyes of a little boy who should’ve been mine? It’s been great, thanks for asking.”

“Shit, Say––”

I shrug away from her. “It’s fine, Skye. At least he didn’t come to the Meet Your Teacher Night, right? And parent-teacher conferences are at least a month away. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get hit by a car by then and won’t have to face him. Maybe he’ll get struck by lightning and won’t make it to his appointment. Maybe––”

“Maybe you’ll have to just suck it up and prepare for the worst,” Skye finishes for me, her eyes shining with remorse.

“No, thank you,” I deflect, wishing a bottle of wine would appear in my grasp since I’m too emotionally exhausted to get off my ass and pour myself some.

Skye sighs. “His little boy is in your class, Say. He lives ten minutes from here. You’re bound to run into him at some point. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Just…prepare yourself, okay? Don’t let him make you feel weak. You’re stronger than that.”

“Am I, though?” I challenge. “‘Cause I don’t feel very strong.”

“You’re one of the strongest people I know,” she returns before resting her head on my shoulder as the television screen dances with images of Schitt’s Creek. I settle into the cushions a little more.

“I wish I was stronger, Skye. The idea of seeing him again….” My voice cracks.

“I know, Say. Trust me, I know.”

The remote rests on the coffee table, so I reach forward and turn the sound up in hopes of drowning out our fears of the inevitable. She’s right.