9
Shay
Why was it that whenever I made plans, they always went sideways?
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Ella’s legs swung back and forth in the backseat, her heels thumping rhythmically against the leather. The streetlights painted amber streaks across her face as we passed beneath them—flash, shadow, flash, shadow—turning her curious expression into something out of a flip book.
“I thought we were going to the movies.”
“We are. But we’re going to eat something first.”
Her face lit up with such transparent hope that I couldn’t help but laugh. “Real food, not just popcorn and sweets. But before that, we need to make a quick pit stop.”
I figured it would be rude to inform Hayes of our canceled dinner plans over text, especially this late. I just hoped he didn’t have anything too special planned, or I’d feel bad for standing him up like this.
“Why?” Ella asked. It had become one of her favorite words lately.
“Because your cousin Shay was supposed to go on a date.”
“So we are going to see your boyfriend?” she asked, cutely wrinkling her nose.
“Not my boyfriend.” I immediately corrected her. “My… date.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
I caught her eyes in the mirror—wide and curious, waiting for wisdom I didn’t possess. How do you even try to explain the dating game to a seven-year-old? The strange liminal space between stranger and something more. Not that Hayes was a stranger. Hayes was… I had no idea what he was.
Ella hummed, a sound of contemplation that seemed far too old for her small frame. “Is he pretty?”
I shrugged, a small smile tugging at my lips. “He’s alright.”
I let her play with my phone as I drove, the glow of the screen lighting up her face, her expression shifting between fierce concentration and sudden, delighted triumph. I caught myself smiling at her more than once, even though I had no idea what she was doing. She knew to stay out of my contact list. Or at least, I hoped she did.
Ella jumped out of the car once we arrived. She spun in a slow circle, her gaze drifting from one thing to the next, quietly cataloging it all in that curious way only children possess. I took her small hand in mine as we made our way to the front porch.
When he opened the door, confusion painted itself across Hayes’s features in slow motion. His eyes moved from my face to Ella’s and back again, processing.
“Hello?”
The word came out uncertain, almost a question in itself.
“This is Ella.” I gestured down, and she offered a small wave.
I moved closer, near enough to catch a whiff of his cologne—was that a new scent?— and lowered my voice slightly. “I hope you don’t mind. Her mom—my cousin—is in the hospital, and she had no one else to watch her.”
His frown deepened, concern shadowing his features. “Is she alright?”
“She’s fine, just a sprained ankle,” I reassured him. “I really am sorry.”
And I was. I’d never admit it out loud to anyone—not to Mari, or Naomi, no matter how much she needled me—but I’d been looking forward to tonight. To seeing what other tricks Hayes kept hidden in his repertoire. To the possibility of a repeat performance from last week, even though that might be a bit presumptuous. We hadn’t even had our first date yet.
“I’m just thinking… I need to cancel the reservation I made for tonight. It’s no place for a kid. She’ll be bored out of her mind.” Hayes looked down at Ella, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Where does she usually like to eat?
“Oh, you still want to…”
“What?” he asked.
