Chapter 14
Present Day
When I arrive at the bus stop for Hallie’s afternoon pickup, my friend and fellow mom Becca is already waiting. I stop beside
her and smile before I check my phone. It’s been several days since Sam came to look at the floors at the Daniel House, and
I’m hoping for a text from him saying he’s ready to start work.
Becca clears her throat, interrupting my staring at a notification-free screen. “I’m so glad I ran into you!”
She launches into a long-winded explanation about the school’s welcome program for new families. Just as the school bus pulls
up, she asks, “So I was hoping you wouldn’t mind being the parent guide for the Kelly family? Just help orient them and answer
all those ‘parent questions.’ I figured it works since y’all are new neighbors anyway—I’ve already sent the email!”
I don’t have time to answer before a lively Hallie charges off the bus and almost plows me down with a hug.
I look back to Becca. “Parent guides, huh?”
“Sorry, Mack. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
I swat the air. “It’s just that I know him from when I was a kid.”
“Oh.” Becca groans. “Want me to switch? School’s almost out for the summer anyway, so maybe we can just match him to someone in the fall.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’ll suck it up.”
It isn’t like I can have her switch it now that she’s already sent the email. If there’s a last-minute shuffle, Lincoln will
know I was behind it, and that’s not exactly the tone I want to set with my new neighbor. I will check for another email address—for
the other woman . She’s probably a girlfriend, likely young, toned, and attractive—though perhaps not official enough to be school-email approved.
I let myself seethe for a minute at the picture of her in my mind.
“So sorry, girl,” Becca replies. “On field day, I’ll make sure your name ends up nowhere on the volunteer list.”
“Thanks,” I say before turning to walk Hallie home. Truthfully, I’d be happy to do three field days to avoid this dance with
Lincoln.
Hallie grabs my hand and squeezes it. “Afternoon Glam today, Mama?”
Afternoon Glam is our invitation-only tea party that includes cookies, conversation, and over-the-top fashion. Snacks may
rotate, but the dress code is nonnegotiable (one item with sparkle, per attendee). Hallie typically opts for a homemade, bedazzled
caftan and an off-center smear of lipstick. I do my best to keep up.
I squeeze back. “Sounds perfect for today.”
“You’ll need to change when we get home.” She eyes me up and down. “Even if you’ve been having a hard time lately.” The honesty
of a seven-year-old is refreshing if not humbling—particularly to a freshly divorced thirty-six-year-old.
I smile to myself. “Thanks for taking pity on an old lady.”
We round the top of the hill toward our house, and I spot Lincoln and Foster outside in their front yard. Hallie does too.
“Mom, there’s a kid out there!”
Oh yes, my new parent buddy —or whatever Becca called it—and his son.
Hallie gasps. “Oh! That’s not just anyone. That’s Foster, the new kid in my class. Ms. Jones made me his buddy on his first
day and everything. I think we might be best friends.” She drops my hand and sprints over across an open yard toward them.
“Foster! We’re neighbors ! Can you believe it?”
My daughter’s joy is fabulous and wonderful and such a beauty to behold, but sweet baby Jesus does it burn in my veins. This
little boy, as delightful as he undoubtedly is, is not my first pick for Hallie’s best friend. Reluctantly I follow her toward
the Kelly boys, pulling my face into a smile that I hope looks more genuine than it feels.
Lincoln and Foster are busy wrangling what appears to be a tarp, and a water hose sits waiting nearby. “Mommy! Can I do it?
Can I do the slip and slide?”
Lincoln flashes an apologetic smile. “She’s welcome to, if you’re ok with it.”
I shrug, then grin at Hallie. “Go put on your swimsuit.”
Hallie sprints up to the house and lets herself in.
Lincoln is a slip-and-slide dad, it seems. The kind of father every mother wants for her children, the one who will do the
wild and messy activities and probably throw his own body down the watery tarp like a happy projectile. All in the name of
fun.
It’s new from the version of him I knew that summer. Back then he was fun in the ways everyone is as a twentysomething, but
his seriousness—maybe it was his ambition—seems to have softened.
When Foster heads inside for goggles, I take my moment. “So I’m not sure if you saw the email, but it seems I’ve been assigned
as your ‘parent buddy.’”
Lincoln laughs at the air quotes I place around the term. “Another item to add to my list of apologies,” he says.
I crouch to help unfold a corner of the tarp; it feels better than my hands hanging there idly. “I can give you a rundown
on the parents. The relaxed ones. The ones you can’t swear in front of. Who to talk to if you really want something done.
And never, and I repeat never , let Becca talk you into volunteering for the end-of-year field day. I was foolish enough to agree last year, and I’m pretty
sure even my eyebrows got sunburned.”
“Sounds good,” he says.
Our eyes meet, and his hang on me like he wants to say more.
“Mack. You don’t have to,” he says.
I swat the air. “Being fired as a parent buddy is as good as a scarlet letter around here. Though maybe it’ll get me off the
hook for volunteering...”
“I know this is weird,” he says.
I let out a breath and give in. “Yeah. It is. Honestly, it’ll probably be good for the three of us to just sit down and set
the tone for this whole thing.”
Lincoln chews his lip, the same thing he used to do when he was nervous.
“We just need to jump in and start making a new... something,” I say.
He looks down, then back up, and meets my eyes.
“Just move right on like chugga-chugga-choo-choo,” I say.
I’m already pulling the invisible train horn above my shoulder before I fully register what I’m doing, and the only good way
for this to end is for the earth to open and swallow me whole. But he’s back. With some woman, with his son, and his house.
And everything I once dreamed he’d do with me. So it’s the occasion, if ever there was one, to dip a toe into insanity.
Lincoln’s mouth flickers with a smile. “Uh, yeah. If that’s how you put it, how could I say no?”
“Great. When would you two like to come over for coffee? I was thinking an afternoon would be good, and the kids could play
while we chat.”
Lincoln nods unexcitedly, like he’s scheduling a dentist appointment.
“Great. Next week, Thursday?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says.
“And your partner? Wife? We haven’t met yet.” I fold my arms across me to protect myself from the name of the person who ended
up with my happy family.
“Wife?” he asks.
“Sorry, I know some folks forgo the official stuff these days.” I suddenly feel stodgy, like everything opposite of artist
chic. “Your partner. The lady with the dresses.”
Lincoln chuckles. “It’s just me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a single dad. No wife, no girlfriend.”
“Oh.” It drops out of me as my gut flips upside down.
Lincoln smiles that warm smile that threatens to melt me, then toast me under the Charleston sun. That smile that was once
summertime bliss.
“So”—Lincoln shifts, pointing at me—“regarding the three of us—it’s just you now?”
I nod my head. “Grady and I separated.” I drop my tone as Hallie speeds back outside. “He moved downtown.”
“I’m surprised he’d let you—”
“Hang on,” I say. “I could’ve sworn I saw women’s clothing come off the truck.”
He laughs. “Oh, I have all kinds of stuff for shoots. Those were just the most popular items I took from the New York studio.”
It feels like I’m hit by a breeze from nowhere and billowed with hope. So much so that my feet might lift just a little above
the ground. My body prickles and tingles in a way it hasn’t in a lifetime, remembering what it felt like to be with him. Remembering
the heat of his skin on mine. But I push that memory away, swiftly , and squeeze out a polite smile befitting a thirtysomething mom.
“Of course, that makes sense,” I say. “I’ll set a towel on the steps for Hal. Just send her home whenever y’all are done.”
I turn and go, letting Hallie, now decked out in swimwear and goggles, take my place. I carry myself up the driveway. So rigidly
I probably look like I’m having a medical emergency. My chest does feel like it might explode, but he can’t know any of that.
My heart flips like a fish out of water and makes me imagine kissing him over coffee, pulling him into me as he crosses my
threshold like I did as a routine over a decade ago. My lips tingle and pulse in betrayal.
Stop , I tell myself.
No more.
Not another thought.