“I’ll see if she wants to help,” he says. My face must be skeptical, because he laughs. “Taylor! Come help with dinner, Bug!”
She appears at the end of the hallway a few moments later, eyes glued to her phone. “Internet’s working?”
“The technician was here earlier,” I confirm.
“Finally. I have to call Heather.” Without another word, she disappears back down the hall. I can’t fight my smug grin asI look at Lewis. Did he really expect that she’d help willingly? Taylor hates to cook, like her father.
“Don’t worry about it.” He opens a cabinet with a shrug, unfazed. “I can handle dinner. You go take your bath. Relax.”
My throat is dry as I watch him pull out a cutting board. This all feels so strange, like a trap, but I’m trying to trust him. To find our new normal. “Knives are in the drawer next to the sink.”
He spins around, opening the drawer with a quick wave of his hand. “I’ll find everything. Don’t worry.”
An hour later, my skin is wrinkled and red from my bath, and I’m three chapters deeper into the book I’ve been reading—the dystopian one about the teenager who saves the world. It’s not generally my genre, but I need escapism lately and I’m finding it helpful.
The spicy scent of tacos fills the air outside the bathroom, and I make my way down the hall, running my fingers through my wet hair. He was right, I needed this more than I realized.
The food is waiting on the island, already in serving dishes, but Lewis is on the couch, one leg crossed over the other as he does a crossword puzzle on his phone.
“You didn’t burn the house down.”
He startles, glancing over his shoulder at me like he didn’t hear me coming. “For once, no,” he says with a soft laugh. “No fires.” He holds his hands up so I can see them. “All my fingers are still intact. I managed to make it all on my own.”
“Look at you, growing up.”
“Didn’t think I had it in me, did ya?”
His words hit me with a pang of sadness. We were supposed to grow up together. Grow old together. “I always suspected you did,” I say simply.
He clears his throat, standing up and crossing into the kitchen. “I waited for you before calling Taylor, but I’ll go and tell her dinner is done.”
I pull three bowls from the cabinet while he heads down the hall, and when he comes back, we make ours side by side. After a few moments of silence, he asks, “Are you…uh, planning any trips anytime soon?”
The question catches me off guard. “No. Why?”
“I just didn’t know. With summer and everything. And all your newfound freedom.”
“I have deadlines.” And solo bills to pay for the first time in nearly three decades.
“I thought I might take Taylor somewhere for fall break, if that’s okay with you.”
“We’d have to discuss it,” I say first, quickly, then after thinking about it, I add, “but I think she’d like that.”
He seems relieved when he adds, “And then there’s her birthday. I’m assuming you’ll want to do something together for that.”
“If that’s what she wants.”
“Would we…” He pauses. “I don’t know what the rules are here. Would you want to do a family trip? You could bring whoever you want with us. Greta or…” There’s a clearing of his throat that I feel in my veins. “A boyfriend or whatever.”
I stop sprinkling the diced tomatoes into my bowl for a second, wondering what he’s telling me. “Okay.”
“Yeah? Do you… Are you seeing someone, then?”
I resume making my bowl, simply for something to steady my shaking hands. How are we possibly going to have this conversation? I want to lie. To say, “Oh yes, I’ve been datingquite a bit actually. My first time being single since I was sixteen, and I’m making the most of it, dating so many people. Countless people.” But the truth is… “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”
“Oh.”
I suck in a breath. “What about you?”
