22
“Okay, so you’re sure. A kid?” Whitney asks, sipping her coffee.
“As in a little person?” Tahlia clarifies and I nod again.
“As in a six-year-old little boy. Yes,” I say.
I sip my coffee and the two of them exchange looks. I know the look. It’s the one that’s silently agreeing with my subconscious that I’m in over my head. But it’s been two weeks and Brady and I are getting along like best friends. It’s Jasper and me who have somehow moved backwards into a platonic relationship. Other than quickies in his office or my place at lunch, we’re in junior high hand-holding mode. I’d probably get more action if I challenged him to a game of spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven.
“I don’t know what to say.” You know it’s bad when quick-thinker Whitney, the reporter, is speechless.
“I
