“Pizza? I don’t want pizza! I have to have bubble tea!” Monroe shouts.
Leighton closes her eyes as though she has a migraine, and I wouldn’t doubt that she does. She’s clearly stressed out and trying to hold it all together. I wish she’d just give up this thing where she feels like she has to do everything herself.
“Just tonight. One night.” There’s a pleading note in my voice.
“I’m sure the bubble tea guy is on his way,” I say to Monroe, and she smiles. I’ll count that as a win. I zero in on Lincoln. “And I have plenty of time to play catch. But first, we’re gonna do your math.”
Who am I right now? I think I’m channeling my dad.
Leighton looks at me long and hard. “Lincoln and Monroe, can you give us a few minutes?”
They scramble out of the foyer and into the family room.
“Listen.” She steps forward. “I get it, okay? Callie’s your sister, and I’m her best friend, and we’ve been family friends for a long time. I know it’s in your nature—your entire family’s nature—to help people who need it. Had Callie called your parents, they’d have been over here.”
“You’re right, they would, but I’m not sure they would fly home from their once-in-a-lifetime trip to help you tonight.”
She stares at me blankly, less than amused by my humor. “I’ll take it tonight because I’m coming off a twelve-hour shift. Lake is throwing a fit about a sleepover she wants to go to this weekend. The teacher called about Lincoln, and Monroe… well, as you can see, she has a one-track mind.”
She looks behind her again and steps a little closer. I smell the faint notes of her perfume, something she must have put on earlier today because it’s not nearly as strong as the nights when she and Callie had me drop them off at a party. That scent would linger in my Corolla long after they were out of it. Or maybe with age, she’s learned that less can actually be more, because the faint smell makes me want to lean in and run my nose up her neck, along her jawline.
“I want—I don’t know—” She’s hesitant to tell me whatever she wants to say, so I try to give her the space to come up with the words. Then she steps aside and opens the door a little more. “Thank you for coming.”
She lets me step forward, past the threshold, and shuts the door, finally giving up the fight and accepting my help.
Lincoln jumps out from behind the wall. “Yay! Yay! Come on! Come on! Let’s do math!”
He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen table, where there are a bunch of papers and pencils scattered, crayons and other coloring things on the other side.
Leighton stops at the staircase. “Do you mind watching them for five minutes while I go deal with Lake?”
I nod at Leighton and sit next to Lincoln at the kitchen table. He picks up his pencil and looks at his math sheet. Monroe stares out the front window, stalking the street like a mom waiting for her teenager to come home past curfew.
“He has to finish those two worksheets. And watch to make sure she doesn’t open the door?—”
“I got it, Leighton. Go.”
She waits a second, as if she’s still debating whether I should be here, but then she walks up the stairs.
“All right,” I say, concentrating on the piece of paper. “What kind of math are we doing here?”
“I’d rather hear about the game. Were you scared?” Lincoln’s eyes are wide and expectant.
Doing math homework isn’t exactly the way I want to celebrate my best game in a long-ass time, but hey, I am sitting next to one of my biggest fans. He’s a lot better than those fair-weather fans who love me when I play well and curse my name when I don’t.
I tell Lincoln I’ll fill him in on the game after he’s done his homework and get him started on it. Then I turn my attention to Monroe. “What’s up with the bubble tea?”
Lincoln groans, and I put my finger on the sheet of paper, indicating that he needs to keep going. He actually does.
Monroe turns around to face me, walking away from the window. I already felt pretty damn good after the game, but I’m rockin’ this babysitting thing, and there haven’t been any meltdowns. I want to pat myself on the back.
Chapter
Nine
Leighton
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