17
Ibolt up in bed when I realize how much sunlight is coming through the window. Winnie gets sun in her room in the morning. Not me. I look to my nightstand for my phone but it’s missing, so I search the comforter and sheets until I find it under the other pillow. The red battery symbol flashes and I curse under my breath, plug it in, and dash into the kitchen. The clock over the stove tells me I have less than twenty minutes to get Winnie up, dressed, fed and to the Y.
I open her door, and she is snoring with her stuffy.
“Win, it’s time to get up,” I call to her, but she only grunts and turns her head the other way. “We’re late.”
A louder grunt.
“Win, come on. How about Pop-Tarts in the car?”
She grunts once more, but this time, she stretches.
“I know, I'm sorry. I forgot to charge my phone for the alarm.” I leave out that I fell asleep on the phone with my not-boyfriend again.
The guilt eats at me as we stumble out the door with untoasted Pop-Tarts in hand. I make it a single step before I am tripping over the large paper package on the ground.
“What’s that?” Winnie asks.
I freeze. “Flowers.”
I pick them up and there’s no note, but by the brown paper and twine tied around it, I know exactly who these are from. Instead of soft pink peonies, these are bright red tulips.
Winnie’s eyes sparkle with question. “Who are they from?”
“There’s no name,” I tell her truthfully.
Down in the parking lot, I glance over toward the auto shop, and I see Tanner immediately. He doesn’t see me as he grabs the bottom of his shirt and wipes the sweat from his face. There is nothing but tanned smooth skin with light-colored hair that travels from his chest down below his pant line. He drops his shirt, looks up and meets my eyes. That mustached smirk catches me red handed. I need to dunk my head into a bucket of ice water.
“Mo-om,” Winnie whines.
I blink back to Tanner and get in the car, putting the flowers in the passenger seat.
“Are those from Tan?” Winnie asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“So, heisyour boyfriend.” Her little voice has a shimmering giggle to it, and I catch her eye in the rear-view mirror.
“No,” I tell her. “He’s my friend.”
“Does Aunt Laurey buy you flowers?”
No,I answer in my head, then roll down the windows and crank up the radio.
When we pull up to the Y and park, Winnie hesitates before getting out of the car. The dread hits almost instantly. Fear that the honeymoon phase is already over, and we are settling back into the separation anxiety that consumed her throughout preschool.
“What’s up bug?” I turn around in my seat, but she doesn’t look anxious. Just thoughtful.
“Tan should be your boyfriend.”
I wait a beat before responding. “Why do you think that?”
“He cooks and gets us flowers. Dad didn’t do that. He wasn’t a very good boyfriend.” She unbuckles, grabs her bag and slips out of the car.
I follow after her to ask what else, like I'm desperate for her to say more. To say what I’ve already been thinking and feeling. But she’s already off and I hardly get a wave from her before she slides right in amongst her group.
I'm halfway back to the apartment when Lauren calls.
