The thought lingers as I turn back to the stove, stirring the eggs absentmindedly. I take a deep breath, glancing toward the window. The trees outside are at their peak, deep reds and golds stretching down the street. The air smells like change—sharp and cool, but still touched with warmth.
October in Lake City means the Fall Festival, the one event that makes this town feel bigger than it is. The wholeplace comes alive—hayrides rolling down Main Street, kids painting pumpkins on the sidewalks, the scent of roasted nuts and cider thick in the air. The chili cook-off will bring in the entire town, and the sack race will get too competitive, as always. And then there’s the pie-eating contest, where Maya will do her best to beat Alejandro, and I’ll pretend I don’t already know how it’s going to end. My girl is competitive, but she does not have the stomach for all that pie—I wonder if I can get away with bribing a six-year-old. No, no, it’s okay—losing builds character.
The Fall Festival is one of those traditions that reminds me of how much I have. And how muchhehas missed out on. Nico. I hate that man. I loved that man. Maya’s dad walked away before she was even born. One conversation. That’s all it took for him to decide fatherhood wasn’t for him. We were twenty-four. He said it was too much. And just like that, he was gone. A fucking joke, really.
For a moment, I hoped he would change his mind. For weeks, I convinced myself that he would call me and say he made a huge mistake and that he would be there for me, for our baby. This was a man I loved. A man I had a relationship with, someone I thought I’d spend my life with. Sure, things weren’t perfect, but are relationships ever everything you want them to be? What mattered was that I cared for him, and I thought he cared for me, too. I wasn’t naive to think he’d be ecstatic about the pregnancy, but never in a million years did I think he would just walk out on me, on us.
It was at my eight-week appointment, when I heard her heart for the very first time, that realization set in—Nico would not be coming back, and I had to be okay with that. But I was furious. I was so damn angry and so damn sad. My heart ached at the thought of my daughter not having both parents in her life. The picture-perfect, white-picket-fenced family that she deserved. The most important role I’ll everhave in life is being her mom, keeping her safe, protecting her from harm, and I failed her at conception simply because of who I conceived her with. I failed her by giving her a father who could walk away so easily, and it fucking kills. On top of being a failure, I had to mourn the life I thought I had designed for myself.
But then I look at the life we have, the life I created for us, and I realize that I never needed him. Maya never needed him. I’ve been blessed with an amazing support system—my family, my friends—they’ve been there for me through it all. Seb, my mom, and my dad were at every single appointment—even though I told them that was unnecessary. My mom was with me in the delivery room, squeezing my hand through every contraction, whispering encouragement, wiping the sweat from my face. Damn, I miss my parents. They’re in Florida now, living their best snowbird life, escaping the cold while I brace for the first snowfall of the season. It’ll be my first Christmas without them—my favorite time of the year—but they’ll be back when the weather begins to warm up again.
I slide Maya’s plate onto the table just as I hear her barreling down the stairs, excitement in every step. The day has barely begun, and I already feel like I’ve lived a thousand lives.
After Maya finishes her breakfast, we rush out the door, barely making it on time. Mornings always feel like a chaotic relay race: me flipping eggs while simultaneously packing her backpack, her getting distracted mid-bite to tell me anextremelyimportant story about a butterfly she saw last week. Somehow, we pull it off.
It helps that I teach at Maya’s school. One drop-off. One pick-up. One less logistical nightmare in my alreadychaotic life. Lately, though, I’ve been thinking about transferring to the middle school where Anna teaches. I always dreamed about teaching at the middle school. I’d love to focus on English, really dig into storytelling, help kids find their voices—but do I actually have the capacity for a career change right now? Probably not. My life is held together with coffee, Rizos curl refresh spray, and the occasional deep breath. And, honestly, it really is so much easier going to the same place as Maya every day.
Seb keeps telling me he can help more. Mateo, Seb’s best friend, too. Hell, he practically begs me to let him spend more time with Maya. And I know they mean it. I know they love her. But I can’t shake the guilt. They have their own lives. Their own responsibilities. The last thing I want to do is feel like a burden, like I’m taking advantage of the people who’ve already done so much for me.
I didn’t get a chance to eat lunch today—shocker—so now I’m inhaling a questionable-looking sandwich at my desk while half-heartedly working on lesson plans. Seb and Mari offered to take Maya for a few hours, and instead of going home to an empty house, I figured I’d stay here and get ahead on work.
Mari told me I should use the time to do something fun. “Go out! Live a little! Maybe even—gasp—go on a date.”
A date. The thought alone makes me laugh. I haven’t been on a date in years. And sex? I mean.Do I even remember how?I think I do? Sometimes I miss it—not just the physical part, but the intimacy. The feeling of being so close to someone in a way that has nothing to do with parenting or lesson plans. But dating? Ugh. I would quite literally rather throw myself in front of oncoming traffic than endure the agony of a million first dates. The small talk. The awkward first impressions. The inevitable,what’s your favorite color?questions.
I don’twantsmall talk. I wantrealtalk. Tellme about your wildest dream, the one you’re scared to say out loud. Tell me the things that keep you up at night, the secrets you don’t tell anyone else. That’s what I want—not surface-level bullshit about sports teams and the latest trending TV show.
But even if I wanted to date, when exactly would I fit it in? Between working all day, making sure Maya has everything she needs, and collapsing into bed the second she falls asleep, I barely have time tothink. The other day I came to work wearing two different shoes—I’m a mess.
So here I am. Sitting in my classroom, pressing play on my favorite true crime podcast, eating a sandwich that is at least one day past its prime, and tackling lesson plans while Seb and Mari spend time with the best kid I know.
And honestly? It’s not so bad.
Chapter Two
MATEO
I’m halfway through mysecondbreakfast—because one wasn’t enough after the morning shift—when Andres flops into the chair across from me.
“I’m done, bro. I’m retiring from women,” he announces, rubbing a hand down his face.
I snort. “Sure you are.”
“Deadass. No more dating, no more flirting, no more?—”
Seb passes by, slaps him on the back, and cuts in with, “No more getting left on read after sending ‘you up?’ texts?”
Andres flips him off, and I grin, chewing another bite of mangu and eggs. “What happened this time?”
“Same shit, different girl,” he mutters. “Said she wanted to keep things casual, but now she’s planning our future wedding in her group chat.”
“Sounds like you need to start dating women who actually like you for you,” I say, smirking.
“Like you’re one to talk,” Andres shoots back. “You’re worse thanme,papi chulo.”
“First of all, thank you,” I say, grinning. “Second, I make my intentions crystal clear. I’m anhonestman.”
Seb snorts. “Honest? The hell you are.”
