Her mother wasn’t satisfied. ‘He’ll get stinky. He’ll forget to shower.’
‘It’s just another reminder to put on his phone.’
‘But… he’s notready.’
‘Hewillbe. One day.’
‘He won’t.’
‘How would you know? You’ve missed most of his life!’ Callie barked.
Her mother’s mouth dropped open.
From upstairs came a sudden burst of laughter from George’s room, sharp and delighted, followed by him calling, ‘Callie! This bit’s funny, come look!’
Callie smiled despite herself. ‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ she called back.
She looked at her mother, tired and frightened and glaring at her.
‘I’m not leaving tonight,’ Callie said. ‘I’ll help George learn the things he needs to know. I’ll make sure you’re not dropped in it. But Iamgoing. When I can.’
Her mother didn’t answer.
She went up the stairs to see what was making George laugh.
You did it, she thought.You said it. And next, you should say something to Mae. Ask her to leave with you.
Twenty-Nine
Now
Mae was up at ‘em, like every morning. Getting ready for the day. No thoughts of red-hot kisses. She achieved this by pinging a little rubber band on her wrist every time her brain tried to go there. It was going great.
Just keep doing this, she thought.It’s over now. You won’t see her again.
It was supposed to be a comforting thought. So why did it make her chest feel tight? Why did it make her heart race? Why did it make her hands shake?
Snap it out of your head,Mae told herself, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for the band again.
But this time, the snap was different. She pulled the band back, harder than she ever had before, and let it go with a viciouscrack. The band snapped in half, its rubber strands falling away, broken in her hands.
For a moment, Mae stood there, the broken pieces of the band hanging loosely in her fingers.
You’llneversee her again.
Mae’s mind went fuzzy for a second, and before she knew it, her fingers were typing the text.Fine. You can use the bakery today. Same fees apply.Then she quickly fired off another oneto Ricky—another paid day off for him—and hung the ‘closed’ sign on the door.
Ten minutes after that, she was pacing between the counter and the ovens, asking herself what the hell she’d done.
Now she was muttering into the oven while she cleaned it. ‘Why did I say yes? Why?’
The ovens didn’t answer.
Back Then
Mae had never been this aware of time before.
Usually, evenings at home blurred. Tonight, every minute lasted a hundred years. Five twenty-three, five twenty-four, five twenty-five. Each one closer to half seven, when her dad would leave for darts at the pub and the house would be theirs.
