I Want It That Way

CHAPTER TWO

The next day, I had to work.

My gig at the day-care center was better than most college jobs. This summer, they gave me more hours, as I covered shifts for teachers taking vacations. As of this week, I’d cut back to part-time, and they were great about scheduling around my classes. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I worked in the afternoons. Tuesday and Thursday, I had the morning shift. Occasionally, the director assigned me to assist in a particular classroom, but usually I floated, helping out wherever they needed me.

I owned one of the two cars; Angus drove the other. For obvious reasons, his was much nicer, but my Toyota had heart. It had a zillion miles when I bought it four years ago, and it was still puttering on. Max had a motorcycle that he had been restoring for as long as I’d known him, but between school and work, he didn’t get to spend as much time on it as he’d like. Consequently, the thing ran only half the time, and at the moment, it was a big paperweight. But my ride started right up, no problem delivering me to work on time.

On arrival, they put me in with the two-year-olds, about as exciting as you’d expect. The lead teacher’s name was Charlotte Reynolds, and she had an associate’s degree in early childhood education. She was a sweet woman in her mid-thirties, usually patient, but she seemed a little frazzled this morning. Alongside her, I kept the kids from hurting each other, gave them things to color, supervised lunch and then nap time. In the afternoon, they played in the yard, more coloring, some educational activities, and at four-thirty, I sighed with relief that the day was almost over.

“They were stubborn today,” Charlotte muttered.

“This is the last full shift for me,” I reminded her.

“I’m aware. I hope your junior year’s the best yet.”

I nodded, tidying up the room as we talked. By six, all of the kids had gone, and we were free to head out. Tiredly I trudged out to the Toyota and drove home, though I made a wrong turn by reflex, heading toward the dorms instead of our new apartment. With a muttered curse, I swung a U-turn and corrected course, pulling into the parking lot behind a silver Ford Focus. I spotted Ty getting out of the car, but I didn’t say anything. After last night on the balcony, I didn’t want him to think I was the overinvolved neighbor from hell. I pulled my tote bag out of the backseat, imprinted with the day-care center’s logo, some blocks and a rainbow—crafty, since the name was ABC Rainbow Academy. I locked up and headed past, trying to avoid tension and accusations.

But he acted like the night before never happened, his attention drawn by my bag. “Hey, do you work there?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Would you recommend it?”

Goodnight Moon. Right. Wonder if there’s a Mrs. Hot Ginger. Guilt pinged through me for pondering his marital status; it was weird to be this curious, even if he was seriously appealing. Wait, what did he ask me again?

I stopped on the front step and nodded, launching into my spiel. “The teachers are well trained and the facility is clean. The curriculum is balanced. It’s not a Montessori place, but it’s solid pre-K education, combined with good socialization and excellent supervision. We haven’t had a serious accident in the year I’ve been working there.”

“That’s a sound recommendation. Do you have a card?”

I did, actually, and went digging for it. My tote was a colorful mess of pictures the kids had made for me over the summer. Since I was shifting back to part-time, I’d brought some stuff home. Like most teachers, though I wasn’t supposed to show bias, I had a few favorites at Rainbow Academy.

“Here you go. Ignore the note on the back.”

He flipped the card over immediately. I got the sense that if you told Ty the paint was wet, he’d put a palm in it to test you. “‘Erin, Lubriderm, three times a day.’ Should I even ask?”

“A toddler came in with eczema last week. Her parents aren’t big on organization.”

His brows went up. “So that’s their idea of care instructions?”

“Yep. Don’t worry, she’s better. I looked after her.” I smiled at him; his look lightened in response, like toddler rashes were in any way amusing. “The director’s name and phone number are on the front. You can make an appointment for a tour.”

“Thanks.”

Though I suspected the older woman I’d spoken to yesterday must have been his sitter, I didn’t ask. I chose not to give him an excuse to tell me how badly he needed to get home. So I just waved and went upstairs, leaving him with Erin’s care instructions and the info about my employer. In the apartment, Max was watching a movie.

“Productive day?” I asked.

“Not really. Tomorrow’s soon enough to start being ambitious.”

I wasn’t sure that word ever applied to Max, but his grades weren’t as bad as you’d expect from someone who partied all the time. As for me, I’d already bought my textbooks online in digital form, so I could go straight to campus with my tablet and a note-taking app. Leaving the dorm won’t disrupt my routine. I hope. This semester, I had four classes, along with a practicum, where I’d work in the classroom two days a week at the local junior high. Not student teaching; I wouldn’t start that until my senior year.

“Where are the other two?” I asked.

“Lauren’s at work, and Angus is shopping. He said he’ll drive her home later.” He paused, grinning at me. “If only there was some way you could keep in touch, other than passing messages through me.”

“Whatever.”

After rinsing off a day of sticky fingerprints, I fixed a bowl of cereal and sprawled on the couch. I was too late to make sense of Max’s movie, but it didn’t matter since I was just killing time until our roomies got home. If I wasn’t comfortable ignoring Max, I never would’ve agreed to live with him. Eventually, I got bored and finished hanging the pictures, though I tried to do it quietly to avoid bothering the downstairs neighbor.

Weirdly, I was a little disappointed that Ty didn’t come up to yell at us, even after Lauren and Angus got back at ten. But they were both too tired to hang out, so I ended up on the balcony again. I told myself I wasn’t going out there to spy, just to enjoy some tea before bed. At some point, while the rest of us were gone, Max must’ve put a chair out there, a wooden Adirondack. It faced sideways and took up most of the space, but it was surprisingly nice. Peaceful.

This time, Ty wasn’t by the fence. Relief shot through me. I didn’t care to interrupt another private moment. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, sitting on my balcony with a mug of Sleepytime tea, but it was a gray area since I could so easily invade his privacy. Tonight he was on the wicker love seat, and the empty spot beside him struck me as oddly poignant. I studied him as I sipped my drink. He had a backlit e-reader out there with him, head bent so the moon gilded lighter streaks in his coppery hair.

“You’re quite a devoted stargazer,” he said without looking up from his book. His voice was soft enough that I barely heard it...but he was speaking to me. Again.

I wondered why that was so thrilling. Calm down, he might be married. Taken. Something. He’s definitely in the market for day care, and—maybe I’m overthinking this.

“I just like it out here,” I answered, just as quietly.

Somehow this felt like a secret between the two of us. His spot and now mine—apparently, he didn’t mind sharing the night with me. I didn’t want to bother Angus or Max with our talk, and I’d rather Lauren didn’t join the convo, either. No need for self-analysis, right?

“The best part about living here.”

“What’re you reading?”

His answer came slow, as if he was a little unsure whether he should encourage me. “Some chapters for class tomorrow.”

“Oh, you’re a student? I thought you must have an office job already.”

“I do.”

“Night school?” I guessed.

“Yeah.”

“What are you studying?” I was conscious this was becoming more of an interrogation, so I resolved not to ask anything else unless he reciprocated. This was weirdly intimate, not being able to see his face, just the softness of our voices in the dark, warm air, perfumed with the flowers he’d planted below.

“Architecture.”

“Sounds interesting,” I said, and only just managed to keep from asking more questions in quick succession. How many years do you have left? What’s your day job? What kind of things do you want to build someday?

Honestly, until Ty, I had never been the irrepressibly nosy type. Something about him just made me want to dig and find out all the secret, hidden things. The impulse was a little alarming. In silence, I sipped my tea, thinking he was done with small talk for the night.

Then he said, “What about you?”

It felt momentous, which was pretty absurd. “I’m in my third year studying special education.” More than he’d asked, as that would give him a ballpark estimate of my age.

If he was interested.

But probably not.

In general, a certain type of guy went for me. They were usually sporty, extra tall, into outdoor activities, searching for a rugged girl to rock climb, go camping and be extreme with. That was definitely not my deal, even though I stood 5’11 in flats, and I put on muscle pretty easily. I worked out three times a week for my health, not because I was an athlete.

“That explains the day-care center,” he said as he stood. “I’m going in now. Good night, Nadia.”

A little shiver went through me, so stupid, because he remembered my name. My toes curled as he said it, and I hated that I was slightly breathless when I whispered, “’Night, Ty.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice piped up, He has a kid. This is crazy. But the logical reminder didn’t dispel his pull.

The next day, I found all my classes without problems, listened to first-class type of instructions and picked up course materials, and then I raced to work. It was a blur, and I didn’t get out until nearly seven. The delinquent father showed up muttering about a traffic jam, but this was a town, not a city. Since his kid had been crying for an hour, afraid she’d been forgotten, again, I wasn’t in the best mood when I left. Singing too loud to the radio burned off most of my annoyance, and I was okay by the time I got back to the apartment. But I sighed as I went up; our music was cranked enough that I could hear every note. I braced for another complaint, but it was hard to stay mad when I opened the door to find Max pretending to be a DJ while Angus and Lauren danced their asses off.

I smirked. “This is the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Max responded with his signature grin. “Come on, use your imagination. Think how great it’ll be this weekend.”

“I’m not ready for that jelly.”

“Nobody is.” Lauren drew me into the impromptu dance party, and I had never been able to resist her when she was in a good mood.

“Did something awesome happen?” I asked while shimmying.

Angus, it should be said, was the best bad dancer ever. Every dated move, he knew it—from lawnmower, running man, sprinkler to electric slide. I had a hard time watching him without laughing, but that was kind of the point. He was never happier than when he made his friends bust a gut.

“Yes.” Lauren threw her arms in the air and twirled.

Angus kept dancing.

“No. Not the robot. I can’t take it. I’m tired and hungry. Just tell me your news, LB.” Her last name was Barrett.

“Okay, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Angus started singing “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me” while dancing in circles around us. That made Max laugh so hard he fell off the stool he’d set up, and he dropped the plates he was using as mock turntables. I could only imagine how noisy this was downstairs, but I hated to mention that while Lauren was so jacked up with excitement.

“Spill it already,” I demanded, flopping onto the couch.

“I just worked my last shift at Teriyaki King. The career center finally came through and got me a decent campus job. I’ll be working as an assistant in the fine arts building.”

“Doing what?” Anything would likely be better than the food court, though.

“Answering phones, sending emails, filing, running errands. But only daytime hours, weekends off.”

Max finally got off the floor. “See? That demands a party, a real one. I’ll see what I can put together this weekend.”

“Congrats, dude. Let me wash the kid goo off and then we’ll figure out dinner.”

“I brought home chicken,” Lauren informed me. “Not from TK.”

Blowing her a kiss over my shoulder, I said, “I knew there was a reason I love you better than all other Laurens.”

“Just the Laurens?” she yelled after me. “I need to try harder.”

During dinner, Angus turned off the music so we could actually hear each other talk. At least that was what he claimed, but I shot him a look that said you’re not fooling me; you’re being superconsiderate right now. He only smiled, even when Max gave him metric tons of shit about turning into an old man before his time.

So due to Angus, we didn’t get an angry visit from our neighbor, and when I went out to the balcony with my tea, feeling like this could become a ritual, the patio below was empty. Disappointment swept over me in an embarrassing rush, and I was glad I hadn’t said anything to Lauren about Ty. Nothing’s going on. You’re so weird. To prove it didn’t bother me, I drank all my tea before heading inside. But long after I snuggled in, listening to Lauren wheeznore, which she claimed not to do, I rubbed my chest against an ache that shouldn’t be there.

In the morning, I overslept, and I rushed out the door, straightening my work polo. No time for breakfast, which made me cranky. Maybe if I’m lucky, Louisa will fix me a snack on the sly. A portly woman on the wrong side of sixty, she was the cook at Rainbow Academy, and she was always trying to feed me. Usually, I didn’t let her.

At my car, I stopped, puzzled, staring at the white square of folded paper tucked neatly under my windshield. Probably a flyer. I grabbed it and tossed it on the passenger seat; I didn’t have time to check out what product or service someone was selling. As I drove, the air from the vents shifted the page, so I could read the single line written on it.

Sorry I missed you last night. Ran late.

My heart did that weird twisty-aching thing again, and I swallowed hard. Last night I figured I was alone in wanting to see him out there. To him, I must be the noisy, annoying upstairs neighbor who sounded like ten herds of goats tromping around.

But then he left this. So maybe he likes talking to me.

Such a small thing, but that flicker of excitement carried me through a morning of calming fussy babies and all my afternoon classes. Today marked the end of getting to know you, and the rest of the week, professors should get serious with assignments. Though I wasn’t looking forward to that, I couldn’t wait to meet the students I’d be working with at Calvin Coolidge Junior High, aka C-Cool. That nickname was supposed to make the school seem more badass and street, but since it was mostly attended by white kids, it didn’t help much.

I got in early, just past four, and nobody else was in the apartment. I skimmed the lot for a silver Focus, but I didn’t see Ty’s car. He’d mentioned night classes, but I had no idea how often he took them. The more I learned about him, the hungrier I became to discover more.

But I put him out of my mind to do the required reading for my Oral Language Development class, quickly to be followed by the first chapter in my Literacy Instruction for Students with Mild Impairments textbook. By the time I finished—I was a slow reader—it was dark and still none of the roomies were back yet. I was hungry enough to rummage in the fridge. As I got up, I remembered I hadn’t checked the mail, and my mom had mentioned a care package. Probably too soon, but she always sent Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Grabbing the key off the hook near the front door, I jogged downstairs to see if we had anything. As I unlocked the box, the foyer door opened, and Ty came in. He had a little boy with him, around four I guessed, with hair minted like a copper penny, and the sweetest smile I’d ever seen. It prompted one from me, which made the kid wave with his free hand. The other clutched a grubby, well-loved brown bear.

Ty, on the other hand, barely acknowledged me. I got a chin lift and then they breezed down the hall, like last night never happened, we weren’t friends of any shade and he never wrote me a note.

The bewildered twinge in my chest went to eleven.

CHAPTER THREE

Okay, whatever. I refused to play games.

So I retrieved the mail and went back upstairs to find some dinner. My roomies didn’t come back until close to nine, and Lauren was full of talk about working in the fine arts department. She had the best gossip about one of the professors already. I listened as she gave the inside scoop. Max made mocking noises while Angus seemed more riveted than I was.

“Shut up, I thought he was married,” he breathed.

“He is,” Lauren said. “But that’s not even the juiciest part.”

Max feigned enthusiasm. “OMG, like, please tell us.”

She cut him a dirty look, then faced Angus and me. “The TA they told me he’s cheating with is a guy!”

“That is juicy,” Angus said. “Before now, I haven’t heard even a slight whisper that he’s playing for my team.”

Abruptly, Max pushed to his feet. “I’m going to my room.”

I shrugged as Lauren asked with a look, Something I said? She and I had been able to stare-talk since junior high. Back then our conversations were a lot simpler, stuff like, God, so cute, look, and I know, right? It was something I’d only recently started trying to do with Angus, though I wasn’t sure how much of my meaningful glances he could interpret. Sometimes I imagined his thoughts went like this: Nadia sure stares at me a lot. She’s a nut.

For an hour or so, Angus and I played video games while Lauren paged through a magazine. Eventually the other two turned in, leaving me to decide if I was going out on the balcony. I put on the kettle, debating the issue with more ambivalence than the issue demanded. Impatient, I steeped the herbal tea, added natural sweetener and stepped outside.

It was a clear, beautiful evening, tons of stars twinkling overhead. The air was cool and fresh, and in two months or so, the weather wouldn’t permit me to sit out here, anyway. I relaxed into my chair, making a mental note to tell Max how much I appreciated it. Closing my eyes, I listened to the rustle of squirrels in trees nearby and the symphony of insects singing to the night.

A bit later, I heard the unmistakable sound of Ty’s patio door scraping open, so I took that as my cue to vacate. Even if he wanted to talk, I wasn’t in the mood, after the cold shoulder earlier. So I slipped inside and took a quiet shower, tiptoeing so I didn’t bother Lauren.

Between work, school and the new practicum, the week went fast, though I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t lost a certain spark. Yet in getting ready, I still took great care; in honor of my first hands-on classroom experience, I wore a tailored navy skirt, white blouse and sensible shoes. Does this look okay? Nervous, I hurried out.

I loved C-Cool from the moment I pulled into the parking lot. The school was tan brick, built in the ’60s. C-Cool was a sprawling, single-level structure that went around in a giant, rectangular loop. There were hallways branching off, but the main one ended up where it began, if you just kept following it and making right turns.

A glance into the classrooms said I might be overdressed. Mental note: nice pants and shirt would be fine for next time.

Eventually, I found my assigned room and teacher. My palms felt sweaty as I stepped in. A blonde woman turned, the dainty sort who made me feel like mooing as I stomped around, breaking china and generally trashing the place. But her bright smile diffused any awkwardness.

“You must be Nadia. I’m Madeline Parker.” She was wearing jeans and a sweater, so I felt even more like a dork.

Did you think this was a job interview? Sigh.

Trying to be sly, I wiped my palm on my skirt then shook her hand. A glint of humor in her hazel eyes told me she was onto me, but she wasn’t judging.

“Nice to meet you,” I murmured.

“The pleasure is mine, believe me.” She looked to be in her thirties, not so old as to be intimidating or perma-settled into cranky ways. “Some of my colleagues find this professional obligation annoying, but I can use your help. This is the tail end of my free period, so we can go over some things before wading in. You want to sit down?”

“Sure.” I took a seat near her desk, ready to listen.

What she dropped on me was pretty stunning. “I work in the classroom as a co-teacher for social studies, English, science, math, though I teach the at-risk and special-ed students for math by myself, as I’m certified 4-8. Then I have a thirty-minute study hall where I help with homework as set up by the administration. This is a normal workload, though at the same time, I’m supposed to be teaching remedial English skills, study habits, behavior modification for discipline-issued students, as well as offer social instruction for those on the autism spectrum.”

“Wow,” I said.

“The most important thing for you to realize is that burnout is high among special-ed teachers. I love my work, don’t get me wrong, but don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?”

I thought of my Sleepytime tea ritual and nodded. “I won’t. Thanks.”

“Now that we’ve had our serious talk, I’ll show you how rewarding this can be. Ready?”

A couple hours later, when I left the practicum, I was exhausted, and I understood what Ms. Parker meant. Though I didn’t doubt my commitment to teaching, maybe I didn’t have the tolerance or fortitude to work with special-needs students. There was such a diverse array of challenges, and I felt exhausted just trying to help my mentor address them. It seemed like every time I turned around, there was someone standing behind her, saying her name on repeat, having forgotten instructions or wanting an exception to the rule. Her patience was astonishing.

That night, I ate ramen for dinner and went to bed early. I didn’t talk to my roomies or sit on the balcony. Thursday was a cipher of a day, but by evening, I shook off the bad mood and watched a movie with Angus and Lauren. Unsurprisingly, Max had a date, and it was two in the morning when he came in. I was still awake, though I didn’t want to be. Apparently, Sleepytime tea at the kitchen table wasn’t the same as drinking it by moonlight.

Max seemed surprised to see me when he shut the door. “Wild night, huh?”

“You know it. Nothing says party like an herbal-tea party.”

“I’m worried about you, Conrad. You’re out of control.” His smirk prompted me to give him the finger.

“You wish.” He sauntered past me, grabbed a bottle of water then said, “Don’t stay up too late.”

Since I was awake, anyway, I did some reading and started on a project that was due in two weeks. I got four hours of sleep, max, before I had to head to my first class. On Friday afternoon, I was surprised when the director pulled me off kitchen duty, where I was helping Louisa put together snack plates. Quickly, I washed my hands and followed her, confused, to the front of the center.

“I don’t know how this happened,” Mrs. Keller was saying, “but I double-booked myself. I’m meeting with a vendor about new equipment but I’ve also got a prospective parent wanting a tour. Can you handle it?”

“Sure, just introduce me.”

But then I saw him. Ty stood near the front door in a pool of sunlight, holding a little boy’s hand. The pair of them were just adorably ginger, and a smile beamed out of me before I could school my expression to something less Wow, I’m so glad to see you, more suited to a day-care center tour. Mrs. Keller was talking, making us known to each other. Though I could’ve said it was unnecessary, I didn’t.

“So I’ll leave you in Nadia’s capable hands, all right? If you have questions she can’t answer, I’ll be available in half an hour or so.”

“Understood. Thank you.” His voice was always quiet and grave then, not just when dealing with random girls.

I had seen enough of Mrs. Keller’s routine to know that I wasn’t supposed to focus on the parents in this scenario, so I squatted down to eye level with mini-Ty and offered a warm smile. “We haven’t met. I’m Nadia. I’ll be showing you around today. Is that okay?”

He thought about it and then nodded without looking at his dad. That told me he was a confident kid. The bear was conspicuously absent, so he must be in big-boy mode.

“My name is Sam.” He offered a small hand for a very grown-up shake, and it was all I could do not to hug him. Then he volunteered, “I have to go to school now. My auntie can’t watch me anymore.”

That must be the gray-haired lady who said it was her last day.

“I’m sorry to hear that” seemed like the safest response.

“But I get to play with other kids more.” That sounded like he was quoting his dad’s assessment of the bright side in this change to their routine.

“Very true. Once you’ve seen everything, I’ll ask Mrs. Trent if you can play in her class for a little while.”

Sam tipped his head back this time, asking permission with big brown eyes.

Ty nodded. “Sounds great.”

While I gave the company pitch, I was conscious of unspoken things between us, unfinished business, and it didn’t help having Ty right at my shoulder as we peered in the classroom windows while I talked about each teacher. Sam went to the door and stared through the glass. He didn’t seem alarmed over the idea of switching from babysitter to day care, and it was probably time. Pre-K would help him get ready for kindergarten next year.

Eventually, we came to the end of the tour and I offered my hand to Sam. He took it without hesitation, and I glanced at his dad, who seemed more nervous about the whole thing. Taking his silence for assent, I tapped on Mrs. Trent’s door. We had two pre-K teachers, but Mrs. T had spaces available.

“Sam is a prospective student. Would it be all right if he participated for a bit?”

“Absolutely. We’re just about to have circle time. Sam, you can have this carpet square.” She gave him blue shag to sit on, and I beckoned to Ty.

“It’s best to leave while he’s busy. We won’t be gone long.” I took him to the break room, which was near the kitchen. It had been only fifteen minutes, so Mrs. Keller wouldn’t be done with her supply meeting yet. “Would you like coffee or tea?”

“Coffee would be great.” As ever, he looked tired, though not rumpled. The weariness seemed to be a perpetual state with him.

“What questions do you have?” As part of the tour, I’d gone over hours, safety record and curriculum, but I hadn’t covered the fees. I hated talking money with the parents. Some of them made me mad, acting like their kids weren’t worth the cost of decent care.

While he thought about it, I poured the coffee into a white mug and offered him cream and sugar. “No thanks, black is fine.” His golden-brown eyes held mine for a few seconds. “I guess the only question I have at this point is...where’ve you been all week?”

I could’ve made up an excuse. I could’ve lied.

“Avoiding you,” I said honestly.

“Why?”

“I may not be the best neighbor, but I haven’t done anything to deserve that snub, and I’m not interested in friends who only acknowledge me part of the time.”

“Friends.” He repeated the word in an odd tone, like it was a word from a foreign language that he’d heard once but couldn’t place.

“What did you think we were?”

A confused laugh huffed out of him. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

I studied his face and he truly seemed apologetic. His hot-and-cold game was puzzling, but I didn’t think he meant to be difficult. “Just...explain and we’re cool.”

“It was a knee-jerk reaction. Sam hadn’t met you, and in the car, he was saying he had to go to the bathroom for ten minutes. I didn’t want him to pee at your feet as a first impression.”

From the tension in his shoulders, it was more complicated than that, but I didn’t demand more. I’d worked at the day care long enough to know that public urination was the least of the problems that could crop up, dealing with a kid Sam’s age. So he was most likely telling the truth about that, if not about why he’d acted like we didn’t know each other at all.

“He’s cute,” I said, giving him a get out of jail free card.

“I think so.” His smile became 50 percent more natural. He downed half his coffee in a single gulp, giving the sense it was his life support, necessary for survival.

“You must’ve been young when you had him.” Okay, so now I was totally digging. It was possible that Sam was his little brother, but I didn’t think so.

“Twenty when he was born.”

Yikes. Younger than me. I couldn’t imagine being a parent at my age. It was such a vast relief to leave Rainbow Academy once people reclaimed their offspring. When I went home, there was nobody relying on me for safety, comfort, wisdom, food or shelter. But for the past four years, Ty had been all of those things to Sam. Which meant he was twenty-four or so.

So out of your league. With a mental sigh, I added him to the list of delicious guys who were out of my reach, mostly celebrities. Damn. No prospective parent had ever tempted me during a tour. Usually, the fact that the guy had a kid was enough to put me off, but something about Ty... My gaze dropped to his artistic hands curled around his coffee mug. For a few seconds, I watched his fingertips play around the rim. My lips tingled.