Paul shoved his hands into his pockets, trying hard to quell the growing anxiety rioting around inside of him. The last thing he expected to feel around Mabel was unsettled. At least in this way. And yet …
It was one thing to know Mabel had a daughter. He hadn’t been concerned about being around them. Together. Or even around Keeley herself, and yet …
He could entertain his attraction to Mabel as long as Keeley remained invisible or at the very least an image in a file. But now that he had …. The easy way they had with one another, it was obvious they shared an abject admiration and devotion, one Paul couldn’t for the life of him reconcile with any reality.
His reality at least.
This wasn’t a troubled house or a sad one or one that balanced on the edge of emotional or physical explosions. This was a loving home with a mother who loved her child without hesitation, reservation, or obligation. He could only imagine what a flourishing young woman Keeley would turn out to be as a result. Personally? He couldn’t relate to this life at all. This was not the life he and Alden had known—grown up in.
“We just need a couple of minutes,” Mabel insisted to her daughter.
“Is this because you brought a boy home?” Keeley’s innocent question had Paul’s face flushing for the first time he could remember. “Hi. I’m Keeley.”
“Paul Flynn. Nice to meet you, Keeley.” Paul found her enthusiastic and easy welcome both entertaining and terrifying.
“Are you staying for dinner? Is he, Mom?”
“Maybe.” He ignored Mabel’s sudden frown of surprise.
The longer he stood here, the more anxious he felt to leave. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was somehow tainting them with his presence. His attraction for Mabel notwithstanding, being here, now, just didn’t feel right. “We’ll see.”
“Cool.” Keeley shrugged and sighed. “Come on Barksy. The adults want to talk.”
Paul swore the dog gave him a warning look before he trotted after his miniature mistress.
“Quinn called,” Laurel said to Mabel the second Keeley was gone. “You really okay? He said you got the crap beat out of you.”
“Well, Quinn was wrong,” Mabel assured her friend as she headed straight for one of the other glasses of wine. “I’m still full of crap.”
Paul couldn’t help it. “The EMT gave her painkillers,” he told Laurel, who spun and, without hesitation, plucked the glass right out of Mabel’s hands.
Mabel glared at him. “Really? You good with narc-ing on me?”
He shrugged. “You said you didn’t feel right to drive.”
“I’m not driving in my apartment,” she muttered. “I’m fine.” But even as she said it, she rubbed two fingers against her temple.
“She telling the truth about that?” Laurel looked back at Paul.
“They gave her the all clear,” he said without elaborating. “Except to say if she still has a headache in the morning she should head to the ER,” he added and glared right back at Mabel when she scowled again. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” Mabel grunted.
Laurel stood up straighter, as if his declaration had somehow inflated her confidence. “Okay, then. One trip to the ER in the morning, it is.”
“Prophetic, are you?” Mabel challenged. “He said if my head still hurt. And you just lost take-home privileges,” she told Paul.
“Yeah, about the pizza,” Paul said before he changed his mind. “I think I’m actually going to pass.” He was already backing up toward the front door. “Laurel, it was nice to meet you.” He spun around and double-timed it, shoving the regret over leaving aside and reminded himself it was for the best.
He had his hand on the knob when Mabel grabbed his arm. “Hey.” She moved in front of him when he barely turned to face her. “What’s going on? You were fine about dinner until you came in here.”
“I just wanted to make sure you got up here okay.” He didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to see the questions in her eyes, but he surrendered and turned, met her confused gaze.
“Is it Keeley? Do you not like kids? Or the dog? Is it Laurel? It’s Laurel, isn’t it? Cause I can kick her out, no problem.”
But she wouldn’t. He could see that as clearly as he saw her love for her child. A love he wasn’t capable of offering or displaying or, as far as he knew, experiencing. Never before had he felt so completely lost in someone else’s world. He needed to keep this professional. Professional and distant. For everyone involved.
“I can’t think of a way to say this without sounding like a dick.”
“Dick away.” She released her hold, stepped back, and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not a fan of filters anyway.”
“I’m not father material.”
She blinked. “Exactly what kind of pizza do you think we’re having?”
“Dammit, Mabel.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead as his mind raced to keep the damage to a minimum. He should have known she’d try to make a joke out of it. “I’m not kidding.”
“I can see that. Paul—”
“Just … take my word for it. Me and kids are not a good mix. I thought, maybe …” But then he’d met Keeley, and he could already feel an odd and sudden connection to the girl that he didn’t want. Or like. “This was a bad idea. You said so yourself back at …. It’s better this way. Ending … whatever this is … before it gets going. I’d only hurt both of you in the end. I’ll be in touch”—he pulled open the door and stepped into the hall—“about the case.” As he closed the door, he added, “I promise.”
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