I focus on the game instead, determined not to fall under Beckett’s spell.

  I’m not doing this again. I’m not going to let this happen again.

  Not again, when my stupid heart’s going to be pulverized by the end of it. I need more time.

  A whole lot more time.

  I’M WAITING WITH ZOE at the front office again, the kid kicking her legs out, swishing them around like she’s actually in a pool and just learned how to tread water, the laces on her boots coming undone and clanking against the metal legs of the chairs we’re sitting on.

  She’s humming, not under her breath, but loud enough that I know which song she’s humming, and I cringe inwardly.

  It’s Ariana Grande’s “Side to Side”, and I’m getting uncomfortable.

  Nothing like realizing the music that’s actually on the radio sometimes when little kids start singing it.

  I suppress a shiver and frown down at my chipped nail polish, lamenting the fact that it didn’t last the week.

  I haven’t been down to Dans la Rue since last week, and I’m not avoiding going there, of course, but I’m avoiding it. Well, avoiding a person who goes there, wearing an infamous jersey.

  This is going to be the first time in a whole week since I’m going to get a glimpse of Beckett, wearing his work clothes instead of his Bruins jersey and jeans, and I know his suit and tie are going to kill me, because the universe is conspiring against me somehow.

  I glance down at my watch, worried now that Beckett’s more than seventeen-and-a-half minutes late. Zoe’s coat’s unzipped and the poor kid’s cooking in her winterwear as we wait by the front office. Hell, I’m starting to burn up too, legs crossed over at the knee, my top leg kicking out, keeping time as the seconds seem to creep by.

  “Miss Elena, why do you think Uncle Beck is taking so long? I’m sooooo hungry.” Zoe pats her belly for emphasis.

  “I’m not sure. Let’s give it another five minutes, okay, and then we’ll call your uncle.”

  Zoe sighs, not like a six-year-old should but like an arthritic seventy-year-old would, weary with life and all the bullshit that came along with it. It always makes me grin when little kids find themselves going through a hard time, sighing like the world’s over, when really, they’ll never remember what had them down in the first place.

  The front door of the school building opens, ricocheting off the brick, the lock system chiming with the code as Beckett comes jogging in.

  It’s really not fair that he looks so absolutely breathtaking in his suit and shiny shoes, his tie and navy-blue shirt and suit jacket that it feels like my belly drops from a building the size of the Empire State.

  Shit, does he have to look so good after I’ve been teaching all day?

  Really?

  “Sorry, sorry, I’m late. Sorry, kid,” Beckett huffs, eyes wide in his face, his beard even more neatly trimmed now, shaved close to his jawline, looking less like a lumberjack and more refined gentleman, like the Count of Monte Cristo. “Wow, I didn’t think traffic would be so bad.”

  Zoe gets to her feet, struggling with the zipper of her coat while walking over to her uncle, standing in front of him but determined to do the zipper up by herself.

  I stand up, too, ready to head outside to clean off the first snow on my car and let it idle while it gets warmed up. If I do it fast enough so the snow doesn’t cling to my gloves and make them wet, turning my fingers into blocks of ice. But Beckett is looking at me, and Zoe’s looking at me, and I’ve spaced out apparently, stuck inside my head.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I have a big favor to ask, but it’s not really a favor if you’re the only option,” Beckett says, and asks Zoe to take her seat again, wanting to talk to me in private.

  Dread boils heavy and low in my belly, and my throat constricts, my mind leaping to all kinds of worst-case scenarios that has me wondering what he needs to ask me that he can’t do so in front of his niece.

  Maybe he’s going to make you be his pretend wife/girlfriend for a work function and you’ll fall madly in love.

  Eeeww, no.

  I follow Beckett around the corner, as if the sound waves won’t travel to the kid’s ears, and Beckett starts murmuring fast, holding onto his phone with one hand, getting more frazzled the more and more it pings with notifications. Yup, that’d drive me up the wall, too.

  “I know this is a very weird situation, I know, I get it, but I need to you to supervise Zoe for me,” Beckett says, as if the entirety of that statement makes any kind of sense.

  I nod slowly, thinking about hanging out with the kid on some sort of neutral ground, taking her out to eat and drink something, until I drive her back home. That’s not that big of a deal, and if he gives me permission, then I’m allowed to do so, if I’m the only option, like he says.

  “For tonight and the weekend,” he says, dropping the bomb on me, hurriedly checking his phone. “No, no, that’s good, just for tomorrow, then. I’m leaving early in the morning, and I’ll be back late.” He glances back up to me, nodding.

  My jaw drops, and I just blink at him, trying to make the connections in my head that led him to believe that I was okay with doing this.

  I mean, it’s not a hardship taking care of the kid, but she’s not my kid, and that’s not something I can just do. And I know I’m not really her teacher on the weekends and basically a free agent to do whatever side-gigs that won’t reflect poorly on the school, but still, I feel weird about it.

  Beckett holds both hands up, stopping me from going on a tirade and the potential red tape we’d have to wade through to let this happen. “I got my sister to call the principal of the school, and I’m also giving you permission to take care of her tomorrow. I have to go on a last-minute business trip that I cannot get out of,” he grits out, jaw clenching in the most beautiful way.

  Focus, Elena, you gotta focus.

  Right.

  “But that feels a lot like going over your head, and I want you to know it now. There’s no one else, Elena,” he says, biting at his bottom lip, those whiskey eyes imploring me to say yes.

  I finally find my voice. “There’s no one else, no grandparents on either side? A babysitter? Siblings?”

  Beckett shakes his head. “My brother-in-law’s parents and family live in the States, and I’m not shipping the kid there for the weekend, and it’s not like I can bring her with me and leave her unsupervised at the hotel. Plus, I’d much rather trust her with you, and my sister trusts you, too. You’re going to have my contact numbers, and I’ll have yours, and it’ll work. I’m sorry, but it has to.”

  I reel with it, not really knowing if this is okay.

  “I can’t leave her with a babysitter—that kid’s not available for the day, and my sister’s only used her once or twice and doesn’t feel comfortable leaving her with the babysitter for such a long time. My sister knows you, you guys are practically neighbors, anyway.” Beckett says, referring to the fact that his sister, Laura, is friends with my cousin, Katie, and live in their building, raising a family in their three-bedroom condo.

  “Oh, Jesus,” I say, worried about how this weekend’s going to go. I know how to entertain a first grader for a whole day inside of a classroom, but outside, where there’s no structure or routine? That’s pushing it. What if I swear in front of the kid by accident?

  “I guess I really don’t have any choice in the matter,” I sigh.

  “I’m sorry about it being such short notice,” Beckett says, voice wound tighter now, and I blink at him.

  “All right, here, I’ll give you my number.” I rattle off the digits to him, and he calls me back, my phone vibrating in my purse with the turned-low ringtone in case of an emergency.

  I know my kids, and I know Zoe isn’t the one with any health-related issues or severe allergies that I need to be worried about, no medications that need to be administered during the day, and she’s healthy and hale right now, so it’s not like I need to make a trip to the pharmacy for cough medicine or anything like that.

  Beckett puts his phone in his pocket and then fishes out a set of keys and hands them to me.

  “Please feel free to use my condo; all of Zoe’s stuff is there. I’ll be leaving for the airport tomorrow around 10:30. Is that good with you to come over during that time?” he asks, voice rushed and hurried, and my own heartbeat starts to race right along with him.

  Am I really going to do this, am I really?

  As if I have a say. Zoe’s going to be stranded if I don’t help.

  “Okay, okay. Text me your address, please, and any pass codes I need for the front door, garage or whatever. I can use your parking spot?” I ask, and Beckett nods, fishing out his phone again to send me all the info, thumbs flying over the screen.

  “Again, I’m sorry this is all last minute, and this is not how I wanted to see you again, shoving my niece into your care, but there’s no one else who can help me out, honestly.” Beckett swallows, looking a little dismayed.

  I nod again, not sure what he means by wanting to see me again but knowing it a little too well.

  I’ve only met Beckett a few times, and now I’m going to be playing house in his home, with his niece, no less.

  “All right,” I say. “Go and get ready for your flight tomorrow. I’ll be at your place at 10:15. All right? I’ll see the both of you tomorrow. I’m going to take care of Zoe, don’t worry.”

  Beckett nods, then stops, holding out his hand. I have an absurd thought that he wants a high five, but don’t make a move to commit to it, frowning at him instead.

  He shakes his head, then side-steps me to talk to his niece, giving her the quickest rundown that leads to Zoe yelling her head off in excitement and I think it’s going to turn into tears come tomorrow when she realizes that she’s going to be stuck with me.

  It’s not like I can say no, not when Zoe looks up at me with that loyal devotion that makes me want to protect her from all the shit in the world. She’s waving goodbye and holding tight to Beckett’s hand, telling him all about her day.

  I watch them go, wondering what I got myself into.

  It doesn’t help of course, that Beckett looks back over his shoulder and gives me a Jack Sparrow-esque grin that has my knees starting to shake.

  This isn’t going according to plan, not at all.

  I can’t seem to shake him, and it’s getting hard to remember why I have to.

  SEVEN

  “Hey, I didn’t think you’d be home,” I say, spotting Sophie on the couch, the TV tuned to something with a bunch of explosions and her attention riveted to whatever she’s creating in her sketchbook.

  She glances up as if coming out of a trance and gives me a tired smile. “Yeah, I took the earlier shift today. What’s new and interesting with you since you left this morning?”

  “Well, I, uh, have a babysitting job tomorrow, looks like.”

  Sophie tilts her head at me, laying her sketchbook flat on her legs. “Oh? A kid from school?”

  I nod, because yes, that would be the logical next step. It’s not like I put my name out there for this. “I’m going to be watching Zoe tomorrow, all day long.”

  Sophie squints at me after I’ve put my boots in the tray and hung up my coat, slinging my purse (that I need to empty and reorganize pronto) onto the couch with my roommate before plopping down myself.

  There’s always something about navigating Montreal traffic that drives me up the wall and leaves me feeling like a wrung-out rag.

  “So, what’s with the long face? It’s extra cash, right?”

  I look over and frown at her. “Zoe is Beckett’s niece. Beckett, the guy from the bar, the one I told you about.”

  Sophie’s eyes get bigger and bigger like a cartoon character’s, her mouth opening in a slow-mo version of surprise, her finger coming up to point at me. “You’re kidding me.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. The kid’s parents are on vacation, hence her uncle taking care of her, but he has to go on a one-day trip tomorrow and there’s no one to watch Zoe, so apparently I’ve been volunteered.” I sigh and rub at the pulsing headache in the center of my forehead. I could just close my eyes and sleep here if I wasn’t so hungry.

  “What are we doing about food?”

  “Don’t change the subject. Besides, I’ve ordered from the Asian fusion place down the street. We’re going to be crushed by the amount of dim sum that I’ve ordered. I can’t wait.”

  “Yes, please. Sounds like a good way to go.”

  Sophie hums, and closes her sketchbook. “Elena, is this a good idea?”

  I shrug. “The kid has nowhere else to go, and since tomorrow’s your day off, I’m going to watch her over at Beckett’s place, so we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Oh, thank you. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to go to bed at a decent time, and I do not want to wake up early tomorrow, no matter what.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’ll be heading over there around ten tomorrow morning and staying there all day. The entire day. I’m a little out of my depth here, Sophie.”

  “But you do this on an everyday basis.”

  “Not one-on-one, not outside of class. Do I just let the kid watch TV all day? That’s shit for her eyes, but I don’t know if I can keep her engaged for very long. I used to hate going for walks as a kid, the distance always felt insurmountable to me. Like, I’m strong, but first-graders weigh approximately fourteen bowling balls each, and in the end, my biceps are wimps.” I sigh, spewing out all the worries and concerns I have.

  “Plus, I’m worried.”

  Sophie taps a finger on her closed sketchbook, once and for all, and I know she means business. “About?”

  “Everything.”

  Sophie snorts and thwaps me with her sketchbook along my thigh, the sound louder than the sting. “That narrows it down.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m worried about Beckett.”

  “But he’s not even going to be there.”

  “But it’s weird, I’m going to be in his home, with his niece, and it’s weird not having him there.”

  “I’m confused,” Sophie says, turning her body towards me, leaning her head into her hand and planting her elbow on the back of the couch. “Do you want him to be there or not?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ah, I get it.”

  I narrow my eyes are at her. “What do you get? What are you getting that I’m not getting?”

  “You’re twisted up over this guy because he’s attractive and he’s given you some attention. And now you’re wondering if it’s all a trap, like that asshole who I won’t name or else I’m going to want to start punching things.” Sophie’s got a death grip on her sketchbook, and I think if she holds onto it any tighter, she’s going to get a hundred paper cuts.

  “It’s just because he’s attractive,” I say, trying to dismiss it all. “I’m attracted to him because I find him physically appealing, even though I question his sanity.” I tell her about the whole situation at the bar when we first met, when Beckett was wearing a Bruins jersey.

  Sophie shakes her head. “I don’t even like hockey, and I know that’s bad. Shit.”

  “Right? He’s just attractive and I find myself becoming...charmed, like I’m the cobra and he’s got the spellbinding song.” I sigh, looking off towards the screen, not immediately recognizing the movie, the subtitles in French.

  “Maybe this was his plan all along—needing help with Zoe.”

  “Right, so he planned this day getaway for work and needs you to help him out with the kid. I mean, look, possible, yes. Plausible? I don’t know, Elena. That’s a lot of work for no reason. You were already avoiding him at the bar, and he never gave you any indication when he was picking up Zoe from school that he had an ulterior motive, right?”

  I shrug, hearing the words but not really listening, entranced by the fiery explosions splashing across the screen. I have to remind myself to blink.

  “Elena, come on, come on. Not everyone’s out to get you, you know? The world doesn’t work like that, it can’t. We’d never get anything done.” Sophie sighs, hitting me with her sketchbook for almost every syllable.

  “I’m worried about it, is all.” I shrug, trying not make a big deal about it when it feels like it is a very big deal. “It’s fine. I’ll just babysit Zoe tomorrow, hang out over there. I have a couple of novels I’ve been meaning to hit, and some work I want to revise for the upcoming week. It shouldn’t be that bad, right? No need to answer that question, I know it’s going to be all right.”

  “Right,” Sophie says, sounding not even a little bit convinced.

  Shit.

  “All I’m saying is, just see where it goes, and you have to stop looking for the con game in everything, in everyone’s actions. Hell, it took you a whole year to be comfortable enough with me to even tell me what happened, even if Katie vouched for me as a stellar person. You honestly don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Like, Beckett could get down on his knee in the middle of his living room and propose marriage and you can say no.”

  “Yeah, right,” I snort, waving off the image quickly enough so I don’t fixate on it. Honestly, what would have happened if I had met a man like Beckett first? Would this shit show with my family have ever even happened?

  “I’ll be fine, it’s going to be fine,” I say, trying to convince the both of us.

  “Yeah, of course it will. It will be fine, you’ll see. It’s just attraction, Elena, it doesn’t really mean anything in the end. You kind of just like the way his skin has settled over his bones, when you think about it, or the color of his eyes—which he really has no control over, other than cosmetic procedures, of course. Don’t sweat it too much.”

  I can’t tell her that I’ve been on a good streak lately, feeling better and stronger, feeling like I can rely on myself more and more and more.