“They’re kind of creepy.”
“Hey, Em, it’s time to go.” I walk up to her and ruffle the top of her head. “Were you good?”
“Yes.” She bats her eyelashes at me with the grin of an angel and I don’t buy it. “Good news—the guy who stole third was tagged out at home on the next play and then Larsen hit a triple and then Bowman hit a single to bring him home. We’re winning.” She hops down from the guard’s stool and shakes the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I thank the security guard profusely, and we walk toward the park’s entrance. “I know you were excited about hiking but we might have to save that for another trip, okay? Max is supposed to rest for a week and I need to keep an eye on him.”
She puckers her lips in disappointment. I know it’s because she bragged to all her friends about being able to see the cacti blooms when it’s still deep winter at home, and I add, “He’s really upset about the way things went today and I need you to not make him feel bad. Remember, you still have a large pool all to yourself . . .”
“And an outdoor movie?”
“I bet we can make that happen.”
“And cookies and cream ice cream?” Small price to pay for the change in plans.
We find Max out front and are taken by golf cart to his car. Once he’s loaded, we find where I parked my rental, and I throw our luggage into his trunk. Both passengers are quiet asI follow the GPS to Max’s place. The new-build stucco is even cuter in person and the small palm tree is the perfect touch in the front yard. It looks exactly like the PowerPoint. I love it immediately. We park in the garage and Emma helps me carry everything in.
The downstairs is an open concept with the living, dining, and kitchen. There’s an office near the front door and a guest bath. I spy the pool off the living room just as Emma does, and she lets out a long ‘wooooo.’
“I’m putting on my swimsuit right now!” She disappears up the stairs with her suitcase and lets out a louder yelp. “And I’m never going home again!”
I glance at Max with a raised brow. “What’d you do that’s such a hit?”
“Don’t be mad but I made her a tween cave.”
“A tween cave?”
“You know, like a man cave, but instead of being in the basement, it’s upstairs in the loft space, with a couch and a TV. Hung some lights and put a sign on the little table that said it was an area for Emma only. Her bedroom is right next to it and I thought it’d give us a little privacy while letting her feel like this house is also hers.”
I bite my lip, unsure how to respond to his thoughtfulness. Then I turn and see the kitchen nook, devoid of the usual table. In its place is an easel and blank canvas. Pointing at it with my mouth agape, Max gives me a shy smile. “And that’s your space,” he says. “The morning light is really good and I know I’m only here for a month right now, but I wanted you two to like visiting me. And want to visit me after the season’s over.”
“Max.” I finally am able to get one word out. Closing thegap between us, I lightly place a hand on his chest and kiss his lips. “You’re incredible.”
He leans in to kiss me again and I sense him wince. “Mmm, want to do lots of that, but I need to lie down.” He goes over to the oversized plush couch and eases himself down, propping his head on what looks to be an uncomfortable throw pillow.
“Want me to help you go upstairs into your room?” I ask.
“No.” He closes his eyes. “I want to spend time with the two of you. I’ll be okay.”
“I’m going to go check on Emma and then I’ll be back.” Upstairs I find his bedroom, a large and clean space. This doesn’t surprise me since he’s tidy at my house too. I love seeing this glimpse into him in his own space.
There are two pictures on the midcentury-style dresser. One is Stella and I’m guessing her late husband, Nicholas. They’re younger and holding hands, sitting on a blanket at the beach with three kids. Max has shaggy hair and is gangly limbs, braces, and bad style. My lips quirk up at the sight.
The other picture is a copy of the same one Jen gave me after the Harvest Festival. He looks the part of an overly egotistical, if not grumpy, Jack Sparrow. Next to him stands a very unimpressed parrot. I was such a buzzkill that night, and there’s no point in saying I’d do anything differently, knowing what I do about him now, because he’d made me mad for Emma’s sake. We’ve come a long way in a few months. Having overstayed my nosy welcome, I grab a light throw blanket and pillow off the bed. In his closet, I find a pair of joggers and a concert t-shirt from The Killers to add to my pile.
Emma’s room is down the hall. Max was right. That tween cave definitely has Emma’s name written all over it. Herbedroom is just as fun and welcoming. I’ll be hard-pressed to get her on the flight home in a few days.
She stands in the middle of the room, next to her queen-sized bed, and throws her arms out. “Look at this! It’s so much bigger than my room at home and Max got me an egg chair! I’ve got to FaceTime Reese later. She’s going to be so jealous.”
I sigh, letting the creeping thought come back—how long can this last? Why have I dragged Emma into this and allowed her to get wrapped up in the idea of us being a family, this home being ours, and Max being a permanent figure in our lives? It’s been a long day and I can’t face that hard conversation right now. “You need to thank Max for everything he’s done to make you feel at home, okay, kiddo?”
“You call me monkey, Mom. Max calls me kid or kiddo.” She laughs like I’ve made a silly goof and how dare I. “Can I go swimming?”
“Yeah. Let’s feed you some pr?—”
“Protein, yes, yes, always with the protein.” She rolls her eyes.
“Hey, when you’re a mom, you’ll get it and you’ll thank me.” I bump her with my hip. “I need to get Max situated and then I’ll go out and lifeguard you.”
