Page 54 of Falling for Keeps

“What’s up?”

“Would you rather wear a pumpkin head for the rest of the week or have to speak into a corn like a microphone?”

“Do I have to shout into the corn cob?”

“Yes. It’s a microphone.”

“But the pumpkin might start to smell.”

Penny’s grin widens. She loves the tricky questions.

“The corn would make my job tricky. We’re supposed to be quiet and respect readers in the library. I think I’ll go for the pumpkin head.”

Penny looks at her dad. “You?”

“Pumpkin head.”

“We can all be pumpkin heads together!” Penny looks at the wagon. “Can we⁠—”

“Nope,” Carson says. “I’ve got grand plans for mine, and it doesn’t include wearing it on my head. Now let’s get some donuts.”

While we wait for our order—he was a sucker and got two boats of mini donuts—we hold warm cider cups in our hands and Penny runs off to climb the haystack tower again.

Carson sips his drink. “Thanks for being so good with Penny.”

“She’s darling. You’re doing a great job with her.”

He shrugs. “She’s a good kid.”

“Besides, it’s easy to adore a child who adores you,” I say. “Must be my mad prowess with braids.”

“That was a good start for sure.” Carson smiles at me over the rim of his cup while he takes another drink. “You’ve had a good time?”

“It’s been great. After inhaling all those fumes today, I needed some fresh air.”

He lifts his cup for a cheers, and I tap my takeout cider against it. “What I’m hearing is that this totally beats dinner with Library Man.”

“Since that’s a date and this is friends hanging out, I don’t think they need to be compared.”

“Everything’s a competition, Emma.”

I laugh, glad our order of donuts is called so Carson has an excuse to walk away. But while I eat donuts for dinner and play a game of hide and seek with Penny, my mind keeps circling back to how Carson was thinking about my date with Seth. How he was comparing Seth to himself.

I’m buzzing for the rest of the night.

Carson

It’s dark and late and Penny is fully asleep, clutching Hops, which gives me flashbacks of Maven when we were little. I hover in the doorway, watching her slow, even breathing and peaceful face. My body pulses with love for this girl, my little fishing buddy who used to love hiking with me and playing I Spy on long walks and has begged for a dog since she could bark.

Her new phone is sitting on the kitchen counter while we wait for Jen to call either of us back and decide how to handle the whole situation. My texts are saying delivered, so I know her phone has juice and service. How can she send her child a phone, then proceed not to reply to anything for the entire day? It boggles the mind.

Then again, I don’t know how she could walk out of our lives, either. We have very different brains.

“Sweet girl,” Mom says softly behind me. “I can’t believe how big she’s getting.”

I close the door and follow Mom down the hallway. “Her new obsession with hair and the color pink is…different. I’m used to her loving yellow. Do kids change their favorite color like that normally?”

“Some do. Remember when you went through your orange phase?”