In the parking lot, he looks over his shoulder and sneers. “This was a mistake, Greer.”
The second he’s out of sight, a sense of calm washes over me. In this moment I feel closer to Daisy than I have in years. As if she’s reassuring me that I did the right thing.
After an exhale of gratitude, I turn to Vince. “How did you time that so perfectly?”
He nods to Brenner behind him, who says, “Claire called.”
A dull ache pulses behind my ribs, and fuck if I know what to do about it.
31
Claire
Bea sleptfor another twenty minutes after Asher rushed out of the cabin.
It’s a good thing she woke up when she did. Otherwise I might have peed my pants. Since she’s been up, I’ve successfully taught her how to turn Twizzlers into drinking straws, and we’re on our second round of Candyland. We’re stuffing our faces with red licorice at the kitchen counter when Asher returns.
“Hey, how’d it go?” I ask, clocking his defeated expression.
He nods toward his daughter. “Later.”
We play a rotation of board games, with zero temper tantrums from Bea (or Asher), until Ray, Zion, and Benji come over with dinner. I told Asher that I’d be happy to watch Bea so he could go out with the guys, but he insisted we all spend their last night together.
Across the bonfire, Bea is passed out on Benji’s lap, hands sticky from one too many gooey s’mores.
“Pretty soon that’s going to be you, man.” Ray tips his beer in his buddy’s direction.
Benji kisses the top of her head. “I can’t wait.”
“Here. I’ll take her to bed.” Asher taps my thigh, and I stand so he can go to his daughter.
She wakes up during the transfer and he shushes her, but rather than dozing back off, she cries out, “I want Claire.”
Everyone looks to me, where I’m frozen in place.
“Daddy’s got you,” Asher whispers.
“No. Claire,” she fusses, flinging her arms around his shoulder and making grabby hands for me.
My heart stumbles over itself. Well, this is awkward.
Asher turns and gives me a nod.
With a dip of my chin in return, I approach, arms out. Bea wraps her little limbs around my waist and neck and nuzzles into me like a cuddly koala.
When she sighs and her body goes slack, I revel in my ability to bring her comfort.
Benji taps his foot against Asher’s. “Don’t be butt-hurt, man.”
“I’m not,” he replies, though his frown says otherwise.
As I step inside, one of the guys says, “Told you you’re fucked.”
I wipe Bea’s hands and face with a wet washcloth, then rub her back until I’m positive she’s asleep. Then I rejoin the men outside, but only to announce that I’m calling it a night. They’re leaving early in the morning, so they all rise to hug me goodbye, murmuring about how much they enjoyed meeting me.
When Ray embraces me, he whispers, “Don’t give up on him.”
I falter, wobbling on my toes, but I protect my poker face. I wish I could ask what he means by that.
