That was…weird.Summer never even got a chance to answer. I’m sure I overstepped by dragging her into this, but it’s outside of my comfort zone, and she’s good with kids.
There’s a bizarre dynamic happening that I can’t figure out. I still don’t know that guy’s name, but with the way Summer’s eyes track him all the way down the sidewalk and back into the building, I’m going to bet she does.
“Who is that guy anyway?” I ask her.
She still hasn’t looked away from those closed double doors.
“The principal. And my ex-husband.”
On my way.
That’s what her text said the last time I checked it.
I acted on instinct yesterday. Hired Summer—officially—after my sister did. I lay awake all night wrestling with these uncomfortable,jealousfeelings that fought for more time with her than anyone else gets. I asked her—begged her—to be my nanny. Memories of me down on one knee haunt me. Mostly because it felt more right than any other decision I’ve made since I moved back home.
Then she dropped the bomb on me that the principal is her ex-husband, and I felt bad that I asked her to show up there on my account every day. I picked up Quinn from school on my own. Told her she could finish up at Emma’s office before coming over. Now I’m pacing around my living room while Quinn eats her chicken nuggets at the table, awaiting Summer’s arrival like a whipped teenager. I can’t stop thinking about how, for several hours every evening, she will be roaming my house, playing with my daughter, leaving her lemony scent on my furniture, and taking up even more space in my head than she already does.
And the scary part is, I don’t regret it.
A rhythmic pattern rattles the front door. I know it’s her before I even answer. A knock like that is a very Summer thing to do.
I swing it open. She’s holding a bouquet of un-bloomed flowers—pink peonies, I think—and adorning what’s quickly becoming my favorite grin.
“Hi!” she says.
“Hi.” I take an intentional step forward, more so to move outof the pathway of the door, but it doesn’t hurt when our shoulders brush too.
Earlier, when I grabbed her wrist… I’ve thought about that touch more than any first kiss I’ve ever had. She must have thought about it too because her eyes stray to that same place.
“These are…” She extends the bouquet of flowers toward my chest. The pitter patter of small footsteps approaches and she spins, squats, and holds out the bundle to Quinn. “For you! They haven’t bloomed yet but just wait until they do. They’re my favorite flower.”
Quinn beams at her. “Wav? Wav?”
“Wave? Water? Web?” Summer attempts to decipher what Quinn is saying.
She shakes her head at every guess.
“Show me?” Summer asks, and Quinn grabs her hand, dragging her toward the backyard. Before they’ve even made it outside, Summer spots her cardboard creation. It’s sat out there for a week now, Quinn playing in it every evening because I didn’t have the heart to throw it away.
“Oh!Lab? You want to take the flowers to the lab?”
“Yep!” Quinn says, and Summer looks over her shoulder at me, knocking me out with her dimple.
“How did you do that?” I stare in astonishment at her.
She shrugs.
I may have had my reservations, but I have a feeling Summer is exactly what Quinn needs.
13
SUMMER
Ashot of water blasts through the window, dousing our hair, our faces, our clothes.
So much for that after-dinner entertainment.
Quinn’s and my shrieks fill the cardboard space as I lift her by the underarms and attempt to squeeze us both through the makeshift door. There are sprinklers shooting from every corner of the yard, drenching any dry spots that were left.
