When Max and I emerge from the bedrooms, I find Pace standing in my living room, looking at the photographs of Max that I have on pretty much every surface with a wistful expression on his face.
He's stripped off his wet t-shirt and when he turns to face me, I feel like someone has punched me in the stomach. All of the air has been sucked from my lungs.
His chest and abs are rock solid muscle, like they've been carved from stone. He's tan and has a light spattering of dark hair that disappears under the waistband of his jeans…and speaking of waistbands, there are no boxers or briefs that I can see. Does he go commando? And why do my fingers itch to find out?
"Do you have a dryer?" he asks, holding up a damp t-shirt.
"Y-yes," I stammer and point to the hall that leads to the laundry room. A shirtless Pace and I'm reduced to one word answers and pointing. Excellent.
His gaze wanders over my curves, stopping at the knee-length hemline of my dress and he smiles appreciatively. "Be right back."
I hear the dryer start up and I head into the kitchen, securing Max in his highchair and begin removing ingredients from the fridge.
"I'm sorry I can't offer you anything more sophisticated than grilled cheese sandwiches," I tell him.
"I haven't had a grilled cheese in years. Sounds great." Pace beams at me.
Why is he always so sure and steady when I feel anything but?
Pace plays with Max while I busy myself buttering slices of bread and tucking cheese between them. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to turn around and watch them interact – the sweet sounds of baby babbling, coupled with deep male laughter tug at my heartstrings. Don't be fooled by this pretty man, Kylie.
When the sandwiches are ready, I cut Max's into little bites and dump the whole thing on his tray. Then I toss in some raspberries and his cup of milk. Pace watches me move around my kitchen and the sign language I use to communicate with Max. If he wants to hang around, he's going to have to get used to the pecking order here. Max's needs come first.
When I finally set our plates down at the kitchen island where Pace is sitting, I'm expecting him to make some comment about how the sandwiches are now cold, but instead he turns to me and smiles.
"You're a really good mom."
No one's ever said that to me before and the emotional impact of his words stop me dead in my tracks. It's as though all of my edge that I've fought to keep – my strength, determination and the lady balls I've had to grow since becoming a single mom – all of it is wiped out in an instant. "T-thank you," I murmur.
Pace takes a bite of the sandwich, his eyes not straying from Max. "What's that sign mean?" he asks.
I look over at Max and see his little fingers opening and closing. "Milk," I say.
"I've got it." Pace stands, and grabs the empty cup from his tray.
My feelings toward him soften, as I watch him pour milk into the sippy cup, fasten the lid tightly and place it back in Max's chubby grasp.
I don't need any help, but damn his presence here feels good. So good. I'm tired of being strong all the time. Here is a man, a gorgeous fucking man, who is willing to help. Why not let him? The lump in my throat makes it difficult to swallow.
Pace
I'm amazed to be here, sharing this moment with Kylie and her son. It's something so normal – having lunch – yet it feels like so much more. Her eyes stay glued to me as I move around the kitchen, helping clean off Max's hands and dumping the remnants of his tray of food into the trash.
After lunch, Kylie lays Max down in his crib for a nap, and then rejoins me in the living room. She begins picking up toys and tossing them into a basket beside the couch. I get the sense she doesn’t often have downtime – time just for herself – time to be a woman and not just a mom. It's strange how being near her makes me think of things I've never before considered.
"Come sit down for a bit¸" I encourage, patting the seat next to me.
She does, falling back into the plush sofa with a soft sigh. "I love him, but God, he's exhausting," she laughs.
"He's great," I say.
Her eyes slide over to mine and she studies me quietly, her face suddenly serious.
Today hasn't been about romance. We weren't trying to impress one another, well, maybe I was trying a little – showing up here with that pool, but I wonder if all of this – the slow start, the conversation, the getting to know someone, is the key to it all. Talking, building a friendship first, having it lead to something on a deeper level than I've ever operated at before. I've never approached a relationship with a woman like this before. And it feels so entirely different, I'm beside myself for what comes next.
It's been interesting seeing her in her space all day. Unlike my tidy and sparse condo, her house actually feels like a home. It feels lived in and alive. There are candid photographs on the walls and decorating the shelves and mantle. Selfies with her and Max, or just Max alone, because she's the one behind the camera. There are no happy family portraits, just a beautiful girl who doesn’t understand her worth, and her baby son.
"So what's a swinging single man like you doing on a play date on a Saturday?" she asks.
"Swinging, huh?" I lift an eyebrow, watching her.
"Swinging."
"You have heard the stories, huh?"
"Sure have."
"I'm going to kill Colton," I say.
"I figured, but seriously, nothing better to do today than play with a one year old?"
"You know why I'm here, Kylie." At least she should.
"Enlighten me."
"The playdate with Max was a rouse. I'm actually kind of digging his mom."
She laughs, her eyes not straying from mine.
"That wasn’t obvious? I figured I had no game and you were on to me."
"Is that what all this is to you? A game?" she asks, her voice suddenly going serious.
"Of course not." This is the most real experience I've had in a long time.
"You make me nervous, Pace. You make me want things I didn’t think I could have."
"Same here," I answer.
"Explain."
"Being here today, this is all new for me. I'm just as much out of my element as you are."
"I doubt that," she challenges, her voice steady.
"Hanging out with a woman and her child? It's something I've never done, never wanted to do before…but you make me want to try something new. I'll be the first to admit, sex is all I know. It's been my way of life for the past…" I do a quick mental calculation… "Twelve years." From seducing my high school chemistry teacher to fucking the housekeeper, to sleeping my way through the LA singles scene for the fun of it. It was the only thing I was good at. I've always been the fun one – the guy you called for a good time. Yet now, in the face of this gorgeous woman, it all seemed fucking pointless. Had I even derived any pleasure from it? "Maybe I'm getting tired of the same-old, same-old," I tell her. I pause, watching her reaction. Kylie is closely watching me, breathing softly through parted lips, but she's quiet and still.