“Well, I just couldn’t resist meeting you! I saw Arlo had someone in his shop, and I knew it had to be you since you two became fast friends.”
I almost snort at that. Acquaintances, sure. But friends? I mean, maybe we are on our way.
Again, Lark’s words haunt me.Let them teach you.All right, kiddo, you may be at school, but I’ll play the game.
“Yes, there is that.” Smooth, really smooth, Wren.
“Well, I hope you allow me to be your friend as well!” She’s so excited that I don’t even have a moment to answer her before she barrels on, “The girls and I are heading to the pub tonight if you would like to join us.”
“Oh, on a Monday?” I blurt out.
“Well, yes.” Her perfect expression slips for a moment before it goes right back up. “It’s margarita night,” she announces, like it explains everything. Which, to her, it just might.
“Oh, I couldn’t. I have a daughter, Lark.”
“Oh yes! Seraphina told me all about her. She is so excited to have her in her class.” Bloom doesn’t miss a beat.
“I’ll watch her. Mondays and Sundays, I eat with Mom anyway,” Arlo offers with a shrug.
My gaze darts to him in suspicion.
“Then it’s settled.” Bridget backs away, clapping her hands in excitement, and I’m pretty sure it’s her secret way to summon a chipmunk to do her bidding. “I’ll see you at seven sharp.” Once more, she doesn’t even allow me to reply before she breezes out of the shop with her floral scent.
Stunned, I just glance back and forth between Arlo and the door. “What just happened?”
“Bloom happened.” He moves away from the corner, glancing at the door to make sure it’s safe. “She’s like that.”
“Won’t take no for an answer?”
“Yep.”
I hum, almost asking why they broke up, but I bite my cheek because it really isn’t any of my business. What is my business, however, is him volunteering to watch Lark. “What wasthatabout?” I ask again, with a little more emphasis.
“What?” He evades my gaze. He knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“You watching Lark?” My eyebrows rise to my hairline, stretching out every single mom wrinkle I own.
“Oh, that.” He grabs a rag from under the counter, wiping down the pristine marble and ignoring me.
“Arlo.” I draw out his name, throwing on the thick southern accent I only utilize when I want something.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what, honey?” In the South, ‘honey’ is not always an endearment, and from the scathing look he gives me, he knows that.
“Fine. I like Lark, and I’ll already be at Mom’s with her and Seraphina. Autumn closes the bar on Mondays just so the girls have a night to themselves, even though she’s technically open.It’s right across the street, and I’ll more than likely just be supervising, so Mom doesn’t break out the witch board or drag Lark to the old chapel.” He pauses to take in a gulp of air. “You can trust me with your kid, Birdie, and like I said, you will only be across the street.”
I sigh in defeat. “That isn’t the issue, Arlo,” I reply so softly, he lowers his head to hear me.
“Then what is it? I think you will love the ladies.” He’s so earnest that I’m not sure how to chisel off another piece of my heart to give him an honest answer.
“I’ve never left Lark with a babysitter to go out.”
He frowns, those thick dark brows pulling low over his eyes. “What?” he sputters, his jaw hanging open. “I thought moms needed a break from their kids? That’s what my mom always told me.”
“That’s because she had four of you.” I shrug, trying not to overthink the moment. He isn’t wrong—over the years, I would have given almost anything, within reason, for a moment to myself. Just a moment. But then the guilt would eat at me until I canceled plans I made or convinced myself the babysitters weren’t any good. They were fine, by the way. The issue was me. Is me.
Always me.
