“She’s a kid. Don’t all kids live off sugar?” Easton looks at me too.
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” I point at Decker. “You’re the babysitter.” Then I shift my pointed finger to Easton. “And you have, like, twenty-five nieces and nephews.”
“Yeah, true.” Easton looks at the ceiling, thinking. “All right, let me see… I have one pretty strict cousin. Her kids have to eat like rabbits. Another cousin lives on fast food. My sister is really easy, and her kid puts a whole new meaning to swinging from the rafters. So, I’d say one package of cookies isn’t gonna hurt.”
Decker, not wanting to argue with Easton anymore, says, “Put them in the cart.”
I leave the four of them to get the rest of what we need while they play rock, paper, scissors in order to decide who gets to choose what flavor of cookie to buy. I have no idea what Skylar—I mean, Leighton—has in her fridge.
I’m excited to see Leighton’s reaction when she comes home to see that we have dinner ready. Jeez, when Callie’s back, and it’s my time to leave, I’m going to miss all of them—but Leighton the most.
Chapter
Seventeen
Hayes
* * *
I can see why Leighton is exhausted. I’m tired too. I did over two hundred squats during the game and warm-ups today, but that’s likely nothing compared to Leighton coming off a shift in labor and delivery.
As soon as we get back into the house, Monroe rushes into the kitchen, opens a drawer, and grabs the marker. “Okay,” she says extra loud, “everyone ready?”
Lincoln groans. “She does this every time.”
We all circle around and watch her use the marker to put a check mark over today’s date where Nail Day is written in the box. We all clap and give her high fives while she jumps up and down in excitement.
I fire up the grill, wondering if Sky or Patrick were the last ones to use it, then inevitably think about the last time they cooked—how they didn’t know it would be their last time.
Easton and Lincoln play catch in the yard. Easton is helping Lincoln learn how to field the ball correctly, while Decker paints rocks with Monroe. She’s telling him a story about the last time she did it and how her parents got into a big fight because pink paint got on the expensive patio chair, and Mommy said Daddy should have put something down and he’s old enough to know better.
I’m surprised at how even her voice is. Part of me wonders if she really understands what’s going on. I can’t help but wonder if some time will have to pass before she realizes the permanency of what it means that her parents are no longer with us.
Decker gives Monroe a sweet smile and says, “That’s what happens with mommies and daddies sometimes. My mommy and daddy used to fight too.”
I don’t know his whole story, but I do know his parents are divorced, and that he and Foster grew up in separate households for most of their teen years.
I’m walking inside with the burgers, putting everything out to make an assembly line and debating if we should eat inside or outside, when the front door opens. Leighton is wearing her scrubs. She’s got a lunch bag, another bag swung over her shoulder, and a big water bottle in hand. She stops and leans back against the door. She takes a deep breath, and I watch her chest rise and fall.
Then she opens her eyes and sees me. Her face flushes with surprise and slight embarrassment. “You guys are back?”
“We decided to cook out.”
“Amazing. Your sister completely monopolized my entire lunch today.” She smiles. “Just kidding. My salad wasn’t cutting it, so I’m starving. Nobody brought anything good into the break room today.”
She drops everything on the bench by the front door, then toes off her shoes and walks into the kitchen. Damn, scrubs look good on her. They’re snug in all the right places. And now I’m thinking about naughty nurse role plays with this woman.
She peruses all the items I’ve set out on the island. “I love burgers.”
“We went to Mariano’s. There are pasta salads in the fridge.”
“Tell me somebody bought the broccoli pasta salad.” She opens the fridge. I have no idea which salads Decker picked out. “You guys spoil me. You did buy it.”
Decker gets credit for that one. Unfortunately.
“How was Nail Day? Was it horrendous? Did you have to wait a long time?” she asks.
“Well, I don’t think every six-year-old in the neighborhood follows the same National Day calendar as Monroe, so we were lucky. We got in right away, and she got them done. So did Easton and Lincoln. I really hope Lincoln doesn’t catch shit about it when he goes to school.”
