My grandmother would know what to do with Taylor and how to do it better, and I’d wished for her advice so many times. I could only hope I’d learned enough by watching her all those years.
I dropped my chin on top of Taylor’s head as I pulled her closer, the rush of emotion getting the best of me. I jumped when my phone buzzed, almost forgetting the inappropriate or at least unnecessary text I’d just sent.
My stomach dropped as I read the message, not out of disappointment, but all too familiar dread.
Mom:Just wanted to say hi. Hope you girls are good!
A random text usually meant we’d be seeing her soon, but things were very different now. I’d changed the locks since she’d signed over her rights to my sister, and if she was back in the city looking for a place to stay, this wasn’t it. My grandmother had been done with her daughter before she’d passed away and had told me when she’d put my name on the house to call the cops if she ever tried to move back in.
But when my mother had come back for my grandmother’s funeral, she’d been pregnant and had stayed until Taylor was two weeks old. I’d had to learn about babies and formula quickly as she was never around long enough to show me. Or maybe she wasn’t around any babies long enough to know what to do herself.
It was easier to worry about Silas than my mother and what antics she would pull now. I wouldn’t let her come and go anymore, and I was prepared to fight her on it. I had fully executed guardianship papers, and my aunt Lucy had told me she’d pay for her lawyer to take my case if it ever came to that.
I prayedthatwould never happen.
“What’s wrong?” Taylor asked, squinting at me as she lifted her head. “You got all tense just now.”
“Just work. No big deal. So, why don’t I be a bad guardian and tee up that island dating reality show for us?”
“No, that would make you the best guardian.” She kissed my cheek and scurried off the couch. “I’ll get the cookies to go along with the donuts.”
I smiled as she raced to the kitchen, opening the drawer to our coffee table to stuff my phone inside in case my mother texted again, when I spotted Silas’s name on the screen.
Silas:Wow. That is an amazing article. Sure it’s about me?
Me:I don’t meet too many Gold Glove winners with six championship rings. Don’t worry, I didn’t get you confused with anyone else.
Silas:Well then, thanks. This is great. You make me sound like I could actually do this job.
Me:Because you can. I already wrote you a glowing article, so don’t fish for any more compliments.
Silas:You’re a talented writer.
Silas:I’ve been reading your books, by the way. So I already knew that.
My eyes grew so wide, my head tilted forward.
Me:Are you serious?
Silas:Well, maybe not all of them. I’m about eight books in. You’re pretty amazing. Just don’t tell me if you punched other guys as you wrote these books. I want to believe I’m the first.
He was the first for a lot of things, things that didn’t make sense for someone I’d only known for a day before we’d run into each other again.
Me:Thank you for saying that. And yes, you were the first writing casualty.
Silas:Good. I can’t believe R.M. Dioro wrote about me.
Me:She didn’t. Rachel Manning did.
Silas:Come on. Let me dream, Slugger.
“One box of chocolate chip cookies or two?”
My head whipped around to the sound of my sister’s voice.
Dreaming was nice, but it wouldn’t do me any good if I wanted to focus on real life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
