“I can do it,” Hayes says. “I mean, I could take you somewhere. We have an afternoon game, but I should be done by dinnertime. What time is the sleepover?”
He’s mentally doing the math as though this is his responsibility, and I need to stop him. “Really, Hayes, I’ll get this handled. You keep living your life. Don’t worry about us.”
His jaw clenches for a second, but it loosens so fast it’s as if I was seeing things. “No, I’ll do it. Nail Day sounds like fun. Maybe I’ll get my nails done too.” He winks at Monroe.
Monroe gasps and leans forward. “They massage your hands!” She raises her hands and widens each finger.
I could use a manicure. And a little massaging. Preferably by Hayes’s hands.
No. No, no, no. Do not go there.
Thankfully, the conversation drifts off onto other topics while we all finish our pizza.
Lake saves me by saying she’ll get Monroe bathed so I can check Lincoln’s homework. Hayes cleans up the pizza boxes, putting leftovers in the fridge and taking out the garbage I meant to take out this morning. We’re like a little machine, and I have to admit that it feels nice to share this with someone.
It won’t be the norm, but I’ll enjoy it for tonight.
After I check Lincoln’s homework, I tell him to head upstairs. He’s up next to shower. By the time everything’s cleaned up, and I’m ready to say goodbye to Hayes, Monroe comes downstairs with her pajamas on, wet hair combed through.
Thank you, Lake.
She goes right over to Hayes. “Will you read me a story?”
“Oh, Monroe, sweetie.” I walk over before Hayes can answer and run my hand through her wet hair. “Hayes has to go now, but I’ll read you a story.”
Hayes looks at the clock. I’m sure he’s thinking to himself, how many more minutes do I have to endure before I’m out of here? But he surprises me when he says, “I’ve got time. Let’s go.”
They walk up the stairs, his big hand holding her small one, Monroe chattering about the National Days calendar and how excited she is for Friday and what color she wants for her nails. I see them together, and for a moment, I let myself dream. In another world—another lifetime—maybe that could’ve been us. Hayes and me and a family. The kind of life I used to picture.
But then reality settles in. I’ve stumbled into some distorted version of that life, standing in front of a futuristic Hayes who isn’t really mine. Because as soon as Callie comes back, he’ll go on living the life he’s meant to have.
This isn’t what he wants—and why would it be? He deserves someone who fits easily into his world. Someone gorgeous and free of complications.
Still, part of me can’t stop wondering if he felt what I did that night.
If that kiss meant anything to him at all.
He never came after me. Never asked why I ran. And I’ve learned the hard way—if someone wants you, you don’t have to guess.
Chapter
Eleven
Hayes
* * *
After reading Monroe a story, she instructs me on every step involved in putting her to bed. She tells me how to turn on her nightlight and tuck her in tightly, even though the sheets will end up on the floor by morning according to her. Then I have to check in her closet and under her bed, even though she insists she’s old enough to know that monsters aren’t real.
It makes me wonder—at what stage of life do we lose that? When do we stop being so open about what we need? At some point, we expect people to intuitively understand our feelings and guess what our needs are, and when they don’t guess correctly, we think they’re not the one for us.
Monroe is an amazing little girl. I’m impressed by her dedication to go three hundred sixty-five days with that National Days calendar, and I’m rooting for her to finish it. At the same time, I can’t imagine how Leighton will handle it.
I walk out to the hall, slowly shutting the door, but when I turn around, I startle for a second. Lake stands in her doorway as if she were waiting for me.
“Did you need something?” I ask.
She crosses her arms and stares at me. Preteens are scary. They’re a horror movie franchise just waiting to be made. “What’s your, like, gameplay here?”
