CHAPTER 24
I sit back in my chair, completely stuffed from the absolutely incredible pot roast I just devoured. The way Ms. Lucy cooks reminds me so much of my grandmother, everything made with love and enough food to feed an army. The tenderness of the meat, the perfectly seasoned vegetables, it was comfort on a plate.
“My gosh, that was absolutely amazing,” I say patting my stomach, watching as Ms. Lucy starts gathering plates from the table. “Please, let me help with the cleanup.”
“Nonsense,” she waves me off with that familiar no-nonsense hand gesture. “You just sit right there and let your dinner settle. Besides, looks like your little one’s about ready to call it a night.”
I glance down at Sophie, who’s fighting to keep her eyes open next to me. Her long eyelashes flutter as she struggles against sleep. She had such a wonderful time today, getting her nails painted a sparkly pink by Ms. Lucy, making sugar cookie cut-outs and then decorating them with royal icing. The kitchen counter still displays a few of her artistic creations.
Gavin stands up from his chair. “At least let me help with these dishes, Ms. Lucy. You’ve outdone yourself tonight.”
“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest,” she replies with a smile that wrinkles the corners of her green eyes, finally accepting some help. I watch as they move around her kitchen with easy familiarity, Gavin washing while Ms. Lucy dries and puts everything away, their comfortable silence punctuated by the occasional clink of dishes.
“Mama,” Sophie mumbles leaning against my side, her warm little body growing heavier, “I’m sleepy.”
“I know, baby,” I stroke her hair gently, feeling the softness of her blonde waves between my fingers. “We’ll head home in just a minute. Mr. Gavin is going to walk us.”
Ten minutes later I balance a sleepy Sophie on my hip as we make our way up the front porch steps of our little house. The evening air is warm and thick with the sound of cicadas, and I’m fumbling for my keys when Sophie suddenly perks up.
“Mr. Gavin,” she says, her voice hopeful, “will you read me a bedtime story?”
I catch his eyes light up at the question, seeing them soften at Sophie’s request. Before he can answer, I jump in, “Brush teeth first then story.”
“I’d love to read you a story,” he says, making Sophie beam despite her earlier tiredness. “But your mama’s right, five-year-olds need to brush their teeth every night.”
I unlock the door, and we step inside. “Make yourself at home,” I tell him, mimicking his early words, gesturing to the couch. “This shouldn’t take too long.”
I’m spritzing some detangler spray into Sophie’s damp hair and braid it into two braids as she rinses her mouth out with water and she catches my eye in the mirror.
“Mommy.”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“I’m scared.”
My hands still in her hair. I glance at her in the mirror, heart squeezing at the worry in her eyes.
“What are you scared of?” I ask softly, trying to keep my voice calm even as my own nerves prickle beneath the surface.
She shrugs, but I can see that familiar anxiety tick, the way her little fingers twist the hem of her pajama top. “I heard you talking to Ms. Lucy… about Daddy.”
My breath catches. I finish wrapping the clear band around her braid, smoothing it down like nothing’s wrong. Like I’m not suddenly trying to guess exactly how much she heard.
“Oh? What did you hear?”
She shrugs again, smaller this time. “You said he might be looking for us.”
I turn her gently to face me. “You don’t need to worry about that, okay? Grown-up stuff can sound scarier than it really is.”
Her lip trembles. “But what if he finds us? What if he comes here and takes me away?”
My heart breaks clean in two. I pull her close and kiss the top of her head. “That’s not going to happen, sweetheart. I promise.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then snuggles into my chest. “Okay.” Then she pulls back and tries to smile, her shoulders squaring just a little. “Do you have to go to the flower store tomorrow?”
“I do.”
She tilts her head. “Mommy?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Do you like working there?”
That one surprises me. “Why do you ask baby?”
She shrugs with one shoulder again. “Flowers make you happy. I like it when you’re happy.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I smile. “I do like it, baby. And yeah… it makes me happy.”
Her face brightens a little. “Mr. Gavin makes you happy too.”
I swallow hard as I look at my daughter. Sophie has always been perceptive beyond her years, seeing things I thought I was hiding. It breaks my heart to think about how much she actually notices. My moods, my struggles, the way I force smiles some days. Children aren’t supposed to worry about their parents being happy, but here she is, watching me so carefully. I wonder how many times she’s seen through my brave face, how many times she’s understood more than I gave her credit for. The thought makes my chest ache. I’ve tried so hard to protect her.
I pull her into another hug, tighter this time. “You’re my happiest thing, Sophie. Always.”
She giggles, and the sound is pure sunshine. For now, that’s enough. We’re okay. And I’ll keep making sure we are.
I release her and we walk back into the living room. Gavin stands by the coffee table, holding a silver frame in his hands. My stomach does a little flip when I realize which photo he’s looking at, the one from the Spring Fling, where Sophie sits with Duke practically in her lap, kissing her cheek while Gavin holds me close behind her. Both of us looking into the camera smiling.
“You framed this?” His voice is soft, almost reverent.
Heat creeps up my neck. “I… yeah. Sophie really liked it.” I leave out how many times I’ve caught myself staring at it, remembering how natural it felt, the three of us together.
“Story time?” Sophie bounces past us, her braids swinging as she darts into our room. She emerges clutching her favorite book and Mr. Hoppy.
Gavin sets the frame back carefully. “What are we reading tonight?”
Sophie holds up the book, its cover worn from countless readings. “This one! It’s about a princess and her dragon. They go on adventures together.” She climbs onto the couch, tucking Mr. Hoppy under one arm while spreading her favorite purple blanket across her legs.
I settle beside her, and she immediately snuggles into my side. Gavin sits on her other side, the book balanced on his knee. The couch isn’t huge, and I’m acutely aware of how close we all are.
“Once upon a time,” he begins, his voice taking on that storytelling quality that makes Sophie’s eyes go wide with wonder.
But as he reads, my mind starts to wander. This feels so right…too right. The way Sophie’s becoming more comfortable with him, how easily he’s starting to fit into our little world. It’s everything I’ve dreamed about, having someone who could be there for both of us, someone who makes us feel safe.
And that’s exactly what terrifies me.
Wasn’t this how it started with Matt? He was perfect at first too. Charming, attentive. I remember thinking I’d hit the jackpot, and then after the wedding we found out we were pregnant with Sophie, I’d thought I had found someone who could love both of us. Then after the layoffs happened and his drinking consumed his life. Look how it all turned out.
Gavin’s voice rises and falls with the story, doing different voices for each character that make Sophie giggle. His hand gestures as he describes the dragon’s flight, and I notice how Sophie mirrors them unconsciously, her own little fingers tracing patterns in the air.
My chest tightens. We’ve known him for what, a month? And here I am, letting him into our safe space, our sanctuary, and if this goes wrong…
I glance down at my daughter, whose eyes are getting heavier with each page turn. Mr. Hoppy is squished between us, his floppy ears tickling my arm. She looks so peaceful. What if I’m making another mistake? What if I’m setting her up for more heartbreak?
“The princess hugged her dragon tight,” Gavin reads, his voice gentler now, matching Sophie’s drowsy state. “She knew that no matter where their adventures took them, they would always have each other.”
Sophie’s breathing has evened out, her weight getting heavier against my side. Her fingers have gone slack around Mr. Hoppy’s ear, and her face is completely relaxed in sleep.
Gavin closes the book slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. “She’s out,” he whispers, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Because looking at him now, seeing the tenderness in his expression as he watches Sophie sleep, I want to believe this is different. I want to believe he’s different.
But the voice in my head, the one that’s kept us safe these past weeks, whispers warnings I can’t ignore. Matt started out this same way.
“I should get her to bed,” I manage to say, my voice barely audible.
“Let me help,” he offers, already setting the book aside.
“No, I’ve got her.” The words come out sharper than I intended, and I see him pull back slightly, confusion flickering across his face.
I soften my tone. “Thank you, though. For reading to her. She… she really enjoyed it.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes, and he nods slowly. “Of course. Anytime.”
I gather Sophie in my arms, blanket and all, making sure Mr. Hoppy doesn’t fall. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, just nuzzles into my neck.
I carry her to our bedroom, gently laying her down on the mattress. She stirs just enough for me to tuck the blanket around her. Her little face is peaceful, all the worry from earlier washed away by sleep and stories. I press a kiss to her forehead before quietly backing out of the room.
Gavin waits by the front door, hands in his pockets, looking around our little space with a soft expression that makes my stomach flip.
“She’s still asleep,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself as I approach. “Thank you for reading to her.”
“She’s a special kid.” His smile is genuine, reaching his eyes. “You’re doing an amazing job with her, Bailey.”
The compliment lands like a weight on my chest. If he knew how many times I’ve second-guessed every decision, how many nights I’ve lain awake wondering if I’m doing the right thing…
“I should get going,” he says, reaching for the doorknob. Then he pauses, eyes finding mine. “Can I…kiss you goodnight?”
Gavin’s hand lingers on the doorknob as he turns back to me.
“I was thinking,” he says, his voice low so it doesn’t carry to the bedroom, “would you and Sophie like to come over for dinner tomorrow night? I make a mean meatball ziti dish.”
The invitation catches me off guard. “Dinner?”
He nods, a hopeful smile playing at his lips. “I love cooking, but it’s not much fun cooking for one and Nugget’s not exactly a discerning food critic.”
I can’t help but laugh at that.
“So what do you say? Nothing fancy, just dinner.” His voice softens. “I’d really like to cook for you both.”
Sophie’s words from earlier echo in my mind about him making me happy.
“That sounds nice,” I hear myself say before I can overthink it. “Sophie would love that.”
His face lights up. “Great. Is six okay?”
“Six is good.”
He steps closer, and the air between us shifts. His eyes drop to my lips for just a moment before finding mine again.
“Bailey,” he says my name like it’s something precious, “would it be alright if I kissed you goodnight?”
My breath catches. The question is so respectful. He’s still asking permission, not assuming, not taking.
I nod, unable to find my voice.
He steps closer, one hand gently cupping the back of my head. His touch is warm, steady.
His lips meet mine in a kiss that’s soft and unhurried. It feels like a promise, like the beginning of something that could be beautiful if I’m brave enough to let it.
When he pulls back, his eyes search mine, and I see something there that makes my heart race.
“Goodnight, Bailey,” he whispers, opening the door.
“Goodnight,” I manage to say, my voice barely audible.
I watch through the window as he walks to his truck, waiting until his taillights disappear up the driveway before I turn the deadbolt. The familiar click grounds me as I begin my nightly routine. Checking the windows, making sure the back door is locked, testing the front door handle one more time.