Chapter 22 Rye
rye
. . .
I wake up before my alarm, which never happens.
The room is still dark, but I can’t stop thinking about last night.
About walking into that guitar shop and seeing Darian with Lily.
The way he knelt down to her level, how patient he was when she asked about the different guitars. How natural it all looked.
I’ve been awake for maybe ten minutes, just staring at the ceiling and replaying that moment. He didn’t know we were coming. Couldn’t have planned it. What I saw was just him being himself with my daughter, and Lily responded to him like she’s known him forever.
The alarm finally goes off and I reach over to silence it. Time to start the day, but that image won’t leave my head. His hand gently guiding hers on the guitar neck, showing her how to position her fingers. The way Lily looked up at him, completely focused and trusting.
I drag myself out of bed and head to the kitchen to start coffee. The house is quiet, but it won’t be for long. Lily’s always up early on Saturdays, especially when she’s excited about something. And based on how she talked about guitars all the way home last night, I’m betting she’ll be up soon.
The coffee maker gurgles to life and I lean against the counter, waiting. Through the kitchen window, I can see the sun just starting to lighten the sky. Another day. Another set of decisions to make about what’s best for my daughter. What’s best for us.
“Mom?” Lily’s voice comes from the hallway. “Are you making pancakes?”
“I can,” I call back. “Come help me.”
She appears in the doorway, hair a complete mess, wearing her favorite purple pajamas. “Can we go back to the guitar store today?”
“It’s barely seven in the morning, bug. I don’t think they’re open yet.”
“Later than?” She climbs onto one of the bar stools at the island. “Darian said he could teach me more about guitars.”
“You really liked your lesson with him?” I pull out the pancake mix and a bowl.
“He knew everything.” She props her chin on her hands. “And he didn’t talk to me like I’m a baby. Some adults do that.”
I know exactly what she means. I’ve seen it happen. People hear she’s ten and immediately shift their voice up an octave, simplifying their vocabulary. Darian didn’t do that. He talked to her like a person who happened to be learning something new.
“Did you feel comfortable with him?” I ask, cracking eggs into the bowl.
“Yeah.” No hesitation. “He’s like Benny, but cooler because he knows about music.”
“Would you want him to teach you guitar?” I keep my voice casual, measuring out milk.
“Can he?” Her whole face lights up. “Would he really?”
“I don’t know. I’d have to ask him.”
“Please, Mom? Please?” She’s practically bouncing on the stool now. “I promise I’ll practice every day. I won’t complain about it like I did with piano.”
Piano lasted exactly three lessons before she declared it boring. But last night, she didn’t want to leave the guitar shop. She would have stayed there for hours if I’d let her.
“Let me think about it,” I say, pouring batter onto the griddle.
“That means yes.” She grins at me. “When you say you’ll think about it, you usually say yes.”
“Not always.”
“Most of the time.”
She’s right, and we both know it. I flip the first pancake and she cheers when it lands perfectly.
“Can I have chocolate chips in mine?” she asks.
“Already ahead of you.” I sprinkle them onto her pancakes.
We eat breakfast together, Lily chattering about different types of guitars, what she learned about frets and strings. She remembers everything Darian told her. Every detail. She does that with things she actually cares about.
“Mom?” She pushes her empty plate away. “Do you like him?”
“Who?”
“Darian.”
Kids are too perceptive sometimes. “He’s a friend.”
“But do you like him?” She tilts her head, studying me. “You smiled a lot last night.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah. You looked happy.”
Out of the mouths of babes. I did feel happy last night. Watching them together, seeing how gentle he was with her, how she responded to him. It felt right in a way I wasn’t expecting.
“I’m going to get dressed,” Lily announces, hopping off the stool. “Just in case we go somewhere today.”
She disappears down the hall and I’m left with dirty dishes and too many thoughts. I load the dishwasher slowly, giving myself time to process.
The truth is, I’ve been careful about who I let into Lily’s life. It’s mostly been just us. The occasional date here and there, but no one who met Lily. No one who mattered enough.
But Darian feels different. Every interaction has only reinforced that initial instinct. He’s genuine. Real in a way that’s rare in this city.
And Lily connected with him immediately. No wariness, no holding back. She just accepted him as someone worth knowing. Kids have good instincts about people. Better than adults sometimes.
My phone sits on the counter where I left it. I pick it up, unlock it, and stare at the message screen. This is a decision. A real one. Not just about guitar lessons or weekend plans, but about letting someone in. About acknowledging that what’s developing between us might be worth the risk.
I think about his face when he saw us in the guitar shop.
The genuine surprise followed by that warm smile.
The way he included Lily naturally, without forcing it or trying too hard.
How he looked at me over her head when she was examining a guitar, just a quick glance that said more than words could.
“Mom, can I wear my green dress?” Lily calls from her room.
“It’s Saturday. Wear whatever you want.”
“The green one makes me look serious. Like someone who would be good at guitar.”
I laugh despite myself. She’s already planning for guitar lessons I haven’t even arranged yet.
But maybe I should. Maybe it’s time to stop being so careful, so protective. Not careless, just open to possibility. Open to the idea that some people are worth the risk.
I open my text messages and find his name. Type, delete, type again.
What I want to say: Last night meant something. Seeing you with my daughter showed me something I needed to see. I think about you more than I should. This feels like it could be real.
What I type: Are you free this weekend?
Simple. Direct. An opening.
I hit send before I can overthink it.
The response comes faster than expected. Three dots appear immediately.
For you? Always. What did you have in mind?
I smile at my phone like a teenager. Lily appears in the doorway wearing her green dress, hair brushed and pulled back in a ponytail.
“You look nice,” I tell her.
“I want to be ready. Just in case.”
Just in case. Maybe that’s what this is. Being ready, just in case this turns into something. Just in case he’s exactly who he seems to be. Just in case my daughter’s instincts are right and he’s worth knowing.
Lily wants you to teach her guitar.
I’m honored. When?
Today? If you’re really free.
I’ll make myself free. Your place or mine?
It’s a simple question but it carries weight. His place means his world, his space. Our place means letting him further into ours.
“Who are you texting?” Lily asks, trying to peer at my phone.
“Darian.”
“Are you asking about lessons?”
“I am.”
She does a little dance right there in the kitchen. “Really? Really really?”
“Really really.”
“When?”
“Maybe today.”
The squeal she lets out could probably be heard three houses over. “Today? Really really?”
“If he’s available.”
“He said he would be. Last night he said weekends are good for him.”
Of course she remembers that. She remembers everything when she’s interested.
Our place, I type. If you don’t mind coming here.
Send me the address. What time?
I glance at the clock. It’s only eight-thirty. Too early, but Lily’s practically vibrating with excitement.
Is eleven too early?
Eleven is perfect. See you then.
I set the phone down and look at my daughter, who’s watching me with hopeful eyes.
“Eleven o’clock,” I tell her.
The second squeal is even louder. She launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Thank you thank you thank you! I’m going to be the best guitar student ever. I’m going to practice every day and learn all the chords and maybe we can start a band!”
“Slow down there, rockstar. Let’s see how today goes.”
But her excitement is infectious. And underneath my careful parental management of expectations, I’m excited too. Not just about guitar lessons, but about what this means. About choosing to move forward instead of standing still.
“Can I clean my room?” Lily asks. “I want it to be nice if he sees it.”
“You want to clean your room? Without me asking?”
“It’s important.” She’s already heading down the hall. “First impressions matter.”
First impressions. She’s already had hers, and it was good enough that she wants to make another one. Wants him to think well of her, of us.
I follow her down the hall and watch from her doorway as she straightens her desk, arranges her books, makes her bed with more care than usual. She’s humming something, happy and focused.
“You really like him,” I say.
She pauses, considering. “He listens. And he didn’t laugh when I asked if guitars have feelings.”
“Do they?”
“He said musicians think they do. That each one has its own personality.”
Of course he said that. Of course he took her question seriously and gave her a real answer.
“Mom?” She smooths out her comforter. “Is he your boyfriend?”
The question catches me off guard. “No. He’s a friend.”
“But he could be. Your boyfriend, I mean.”
“Why do you think that?”
She shrugs, arranging her stuffed animals on her pillow. “You acted differently around him. Good different.”
“How did I act?”
“Like yourself, but more.” She frowns, searching for words. “Like when you’re really into a book and you forget I’m there, but in a good way. You’re just . . . you.”
Sometimes she sees too much. Understands too much.
“Would that be okay with you?” I ask carefully. “If he was more than a friend?”