Brian is studying my expression just as much as I’m studying his. Mapping out the truth.
If I saymaybe it was a coyote, it would be an accurate guess. It’s not unheard of to have them roaming land that’s so close to the foothills. But if it wasn’t followed by a flood of tears, he’d know I was making something up. I’m not that great of an actress.
“I hope she’s okay” is all I say.
“Me too,” he lies. He could care less about that cat. “I just thought you should know.”
My eyes narrow. What is his real motivation for bringing me out here? A reminder that he got to keep Millie?
“She’s strong,” I add. “She’ll pull through.” What I really mean isI’mstrong,andIpulled through. “Thank you for telling me. I better get back in there.”
He nods but snags my hand before I finish turning. “Oh, and Summer?”
The warmth of his skin seeps into my palm, the slope of his smile all too familiar.
“I liked the red dress and heels.”
That’s the outfit I wore to my second day at Emma’s law practice, the one I was wearing when I made Everett drop to his knees and beg me to work forhimtoo. Of course Brian liked it. It wasn’t something the old me ever used to wear because I never had to look business-professional. He doesn’t deserve any details about the situation, but this sick part of me still wants to prove him wrong.
“I’m a legal assistant now. No need for your spousal support anymore.”
His eyebrows meet his hairline, proving I was right to say it. His reaction is incredibly satisfying.
I yank my hand from his grasp and disappear through the gym doors.
Everett’s done a great job engaging with the kids in a conversation about music since I stepped out. I do a quick sweep of the room, surveying what we have to work with. There is a basket of soccer balls in the corner, basketball hoops on either end of the ceiling, and a stage. None of that feels very play-esque. I’m at a loss for what to do until I land on the instrument strung around Everett’s neck.
“Can I borrow that?”
Everett’s eyebrow lifts as he transfers the guitar to my outstretched hands.
I play chords E, A, and D in a repetitive pattern, singing “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer.”
Henry covers his ears.
Everett looks amused. “An alcohol song at an elementary school?”
“Acampfiresong,” I correct him, and keep singing.
He chuckles, but it’s working. Kids are clapping to the beat.A couple know the tune and sing along. When I get to the end, I strum up and down for dramatic effect, and they all break out in applause.
“Didn’t know you had that in you,” Everett says.
I lift the strap off my shoulders and set it back over his head. “I’m full of surprises.”Like the fact that I’m harboring a secret crush on you.
A throat clears, and I pull my attention back to the kids. “Anyway! I’m Summer and this is?—”
“Rhett Dawson,” a tall boy with a backward baseball cap shouts between smacks of his gum. Judging by his height and superiority complex, he’s the only fifth-grader here.
“You are correct. What’s your name?”
“Blake.”
“Well, Blake and everyone else, I know you all came for the play, but?—”
“Mrs. Farris got an ouchie.” An adorable girl with a head full of cornrows wiggles her front tooth.
“That’s an understatement,” Everett mutters under his breath.
