Mostly because I didn’t know myself.
Other than Atlas driving me home—and then showing up on my porch the following morning with a toolbox in one hand and a new dead bolt in the other—he’d been scarce.
And that was fine with me.Totallyfine. For the best, actually.
Because between him goading me just to take my mind off a shitty day, to claiming me where anyone could see, to his almost innate sense to protect me, things were only getting more confusing. And I definitely didn’t need that.
Something I’d learned time and time again was that people’s views of teenage single moms weren’t very flattering. Adding fuel to that fire by spending more time with Atlas would only fuck me over in the long run. And I was not interested in being fucked over in a town this small. Especially when my daughter and I had to make our life here for the foreseeable future.
This was my first time being on the receiving end of small-town gossip, and I could officially say I didn’t love it. I’d heard a dozen speculations today from various patients, each person more desperate than the last to find out what was really going on between Atlas and me.
Hoping I could smother the rumors if I didn’t give them oxygen, I’d neither confirmed nor denied any of them, even the more outlandish ones. Who in their right mind thought our fling was actually part of a reality show and Starlight Cove was about to become famous? As much as I’d been desperate to squash all talk of Atlas and me, I figured that would only stretch this out longer than necessary.
Needless to say, I’d been exhausted by the end of the day and hadn’t been able to leave fast enough.
After I swung by the library to pick up Laurel from a study group, we headed back to the cottage. We didn’t even make it two steps inside before she asked, “What’s for dinner?”
The age-old question I’d never been able to escape, even during the times she was mad at me.
“Tacos,” I said. “Sound good?”
“As long as we can have guac with them.” Laurel tossed her backpack on the kitchen counter.
“Great, you can be in charge of that,” I said.
She groaned with the force that only a sixteen-year-old could muster. “I never agreed to that.”
“Yeah, well, I never agreed to come up with three meals a day, every day, for the rest of my life. Yet here we are.”
“And you sayI’mdramatic.”
“Go change and get comfy. We can binge that new murder documentary tonight.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, but I spotted unmistakable interest in her eyes before she headed to her bedroom.
Once again, I was thankful my daughter liked hanging out with me most of the time. Okay, a solid 70% of the time, but I’d still take it.
I grabbed her backpack, intent on hanging it on the hook by the door rather than the any-fucking-where she usually dropped it, when a bright-pink flyer fell out of the front pocket and floated to the floor. I reached down and picked it up, the bold font at the top catching my eye and proclaiming, CLASS TRIP TO PARIS.
I quickly scanned the paper, my attention pinging to the important details.Fuck me.A week for my daughter in the City of Love would cost more than I’d paid for my first car. My heart dropped, a boulder taking up residence in my stomach.
Laurel desperately wanted to see the world, and Paris was her number one bucket list location. But this was a lot of fucking money, and being a single mom didn’t exactly allow for the cultivation of a nest egg.
Her bedroom door opened, and I shoved the flyer back into the pocket before hanging up her backpack. I knew she’d talk to me about it when she was ready. And the truth was, I needed a little time to figure out some kind of plan where I could make this a possibility for her.
After a quick detour to my bedroom to change, I pulled out the taco fixings and started dicing a tomato. “Are things better at school?”
Laurel pulled out another cutting board and grabbed three avocados from the counter. “Define better.”
“Are you still actively plotting my demise every day when I drop you off? Or have we graduated past that to just sullen resignation?”
“Maybe somewhere in the middle.”
“That’s progress. You and Cami are hanging out more. Things are clicking?”
Laurel shrugged. “She’s cool. I just miss my old friends.”
I glanced over, taking in the slump of her shoulders, and blew out a long sigh. “I know you do. But you’ll make those same connections here. And maybe we can plan a trip there in the summer.”
