Page 97

“Well,” I smiled softly at him, feeling completely lucky for having found him and Noa. For buying that damn cottage house. “I’m getting there.”

28

— • —

Sam

“WAKE UP! It’s morning and we need pancakes!”

I yanked the sheet higher, suddenly very aware of my lack of clothing. Tyson seemed unbothered, probably used to grabbing basketball shorts at dawn.

“Morning, bug. How about you go pick out clothes while I start breakfast?”

“Can Sam help? She has good fashion sense.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” I said, swallowing down my embarrassment at her catching us on the same bed. We hadn’t had the talk with her yet about me being with her dad, though I suspected she already knew. “Give me five minutes to get dressed.”

Noa bounced out, singing something about dinosaurs and syrup. I looked at Tyson, who was trying not to laugh.

“Welcome to parenthood?”

“Apparently.”

The morning routine that followed was chaotic perfection. Noa selected an outfit that included her usual suspects: tutu, rain boots, and a t-shirt with a sequined unicorn. I packed her lunch (peanut butter and jelly, crusts removed, apple slices, and exactly five goldfish crackers because “six is too many”). Tyson made pancakes while providing running commentary about proper syrup distribution.

“It’s art, Sam. You can’t just dump it on there.”

“I absolutely can.”

“This is why I’m in charge of pancakes. You have no respect for the craft.”

“The craft of pancakes?”

“Yes.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me anyway.”

Noa looked between us with calculating eyes. “Are you boyfriend girlfriend now?”

Fuck. We exchanged glances. How did you explain adult relationships to kindergarteners?

“We’re… figuring it out,” I said carefully.

“Does that mean Sam lives here now?”

“We’re discussing logistics,” Tyson said.

“I don’t know what that means but I vote yes.” She pointed her fork at us.

School drop-off was an education in small-town dynamics. Parents clustered in groups, kids running between them, everyone knowing everyone else’s business. Rose intercepted me near the entrance while Tyson walked Noa to her classroom.

“Thank God you figured it out,” she said without preamble.

“Good morning to you too?”

“I’m serious. Do you know how long that man has been moping around this town? Four years, Sam. Four years of sad flannel and single dad energy.” She gripped my shoulders. “You brought him back to life.”