Or at least, I’mtellingmyself I don’t have a choice.
“I’m going to go get dressed,” Tyler says once the kitchen is cleaned.
I kind of like seeing Sunday morning Tyler in athletic shorts and a t-shirt.
“Krew, can you keep Miss Johnson entertained while I’m upstairs?”
“Yep,” he says.
Tyler gives me a high five as he walks past me. And I know it’s stupid, but it makes my stomach spin. It’s our thing, the way we touch when wecan’ttouch.
“Mrs. Johnson?”
“Yeah?” I look over my shoulder to the table where Krew’s coloring.
“Do you like my dad?”
“Uh…” I laugh, taken off-guard by his question. “Of course I like your dad. We’re friends.”
“He likes you.”
My brows rise. “He does?”
“Yeah. He always asks me what you talk about at school and if you ever ask about him.”
Why does that make me smile?
“And he told me he likes you.”
I turn to face him, leaning back against the counter. “When?”
“When I was pitching yesterday. That’s what he said when he came to the mound.”
“That he likes me?”
“Yeah. He said he likes you a lot.” His head is down, still focusing on his drawing.
“Well, we’re good friends.”
“I think he likes you more than a friend.”
My fingers grip the edge of the counter. Involving Krew in our relationship takes things to a whole other level.
“Can you be more than friends?” He finally looks at me. “Can you be my mom?”
My heart drops. “Krew, you have a mom.”
“She’s dead.”
Emotion fills my voice, and suddenly I’m aware of every picture of Kristen in the kitchen. There’s one on the fridge. One on the bulletin board. One on the windowsill.
“Even though she’s dead, she’s still your mom.”
“But I want you to be my mom.”
Brooke and Tessa are right. What I’m doing with Tyler is no different from what my dad is doing with Anna Mae. I’ve been making impulsive decisions, losing control, slowlyreplacingKristen. I pretended earlier that it wasn’t the same, but now it’s so obvious.
I force a smile. “Krew, you have a mom, and I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I’m sure she’s always with you.”
