Chapter 9
BILLIE
“Can Billie read our bedtime books?” Joey asked, wrapping both arms around my leg as if I might float away if she didn’t anchor me to the living room rug.
Her backpack had already been abandoned on the floor, and her socks, mismatched and pilled at the heels, peeked out from the cuffs of pajama pants decorated with cartoon narwhals she’d chosen after her bath.
“Please?” Andi echoed, her hands pressed together beneath her chin in a gesture of exaggerated prayer.
Adam, who had been fighting to keep his eyelids open ever since we finished dinner, managed a weary smile.
The effort seemed to cost him, lines deepened at the corners of his eyes, and his posture slumped incrementally with every exhale.
He looked like someone who had just run a marathon and discovered, at the finish line, that the house was on fire.
I glanced between the girls, then at Adam, then back to the girls.
There was no way I could leave him like this, as if he might collapse from emotional exhaustion if someone didn’t step in to take over.
As I watched him practically melt into the cushions, it suddenly struck me as miraculous that anyone survived childhood with both parents still upright, much less single parents.
I wondered, not for the first time that evening, how Genesis Milan was going to respond to this change in his lifestyle.
Raising two energetic, precocious girls, each with a bottomless appetite for stories and snacks and affection, was not exactly what she’d planned for.
I should know. I’d done it starting at the age of four.
She didn’t seem like the selfless type, but then again, maybe that was just her persona. She was sexy. And hot. And successful. And hot. And smart. And hot. And badass. And hot. And funny. And hot. And flexible (she did yoga). And did I mention hot?
Was I jealous? Yes. I was. But surprised? No. Of course Adam Knight would end up with, not only a model who was in the military, but she would also have to have a sexy accent and be super cool and funny because, fuck my life.
Honestly, I’m glad I found out from him directly because them going Instagram official or appearing on a red carpet would have been like a knife in the heart.
I don’t know what I would have done. Sobbed.
Eaten copious amounts of rocky road ice cream, kettle corn, and drank all the rosé I could get my hands on probably.
It was still torture but hearing it from him was less devastating…
slightly. It was at least a personally delivered bomb to my soul.
And I refused to be jealous of a woman who I didn’t know. Especially since Adam must love her if he was willing to move to another country for her and spent three years long-distance with her. That took dedication and sacrifice from both parties.
I would be happy for them, eventually. Hopefully.
“I don’t mind.” I offered a smile whose wattage I could only hope was somewhere between reassuring and that of a fun-aunt.
Adam’s eyes flicked up, as if he wanted to argue but didn’t have the energy to mount a case. He just nodded.
The girls each grabbed one of my hands and led me up the stairs, tug-of-warring for pole position and narrating the ascent as if it were a trek up Everest, each vying for their favorite book to be read.
It was so strange being back in Adam’s house. It was the same but so different. His dad had really let the place get into disrepair, which was heartbreaking. Growing up, the man I’d known had always taken such pride in both his home and his belongings.
As we made it to the room that the girls had claimed as their own and entered, I took it in for maybe the first time ever.
It wasn’t a space I’d ever spent time in.
When Adam grew up there, it was his dad’s study.
I saw why the girls chose it. There were bookshelves and a huge window seat that looked out over the backyard.
Joey dug into one of her bags, and I walked over and settled onto the bottom bunk queen-sized mattress.
She emerged with a battered hardcover copy of Miss Rumphius and a paperback of The Trouble with Chickens.
Andi had slipped past her sister and returned with Goodnight Moon, which she placed reverently in my lap.
“Classics,” I observed. “A little light for my taste, but strong themes of existential dread.”
The girls laughed, or at least tried to. More like a polite giggle, the kind adults use when they’re not sure if something is supposed to be funny.
We settled on which book would get read first by rock-paper-scissors, it was the easiest way not to cause a fight. It had always been my go-to with the girls growing up. It prevented anyone from being able to claim unfair treatment.
Joey won and decided on Miss Rumphius. I settled back against the wall and cracked it open.
The smell of old paper and crayon wax filled the air.
Joey and Andi tucked themselves in on either side of me.
Andi rested her head on my arm, and Joey began to play with my hair, twisting it around her fingers as I began to read, falling into the rhythm of Barbara Cooney’s prose, but I sensed the girls’ attention was already wandering.
“Do you know Mr. Adam?” Joey blurted out as I finished the first page.
Mr. Adam. That’s gotta sting if Adam heard it. I hadn’t heard either of the girls address him directly. Although, in fairness, they had met him less than a week ago.
“He’s our dad,” Andi supplied, as if I might not be aware.
I paused and marked the page with my thumb, even though it was only the first. “I do know him. I met him when I was about your age. Just a little younger.”
“Was he mean or goofy?” Joey asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
I had a feeling that “goofy” was a good thing in her book.
“Super goofy,” I said. “He used to eat peanut butter and pickle sandwiches and thought that rocks got lonely if you didn’t take them home from the park.”
Joey wrinkled her nose. “He did?”
I nodded as I set the book down, realizing that story time would wait, this was more important.
“When he was even littler than you, he did. One day I found a whole box of rocks under his bed, and I asked him what they were. He said he used to collect any rocks he found at the beach or park or on the sidewalk that were alone and bring them home so they wouldn’t be lonely and so they could have a family. ”
“He made a rock family?” Andi asked.
“He did. He had hundreds of rocks.”
“Does he still have them?” Joey sat up straighter.
“I don’t know. He moved out of here about twenty years ago, his dad might not have kept it.”
Both girls’ faces dropped in disappointment.
“What else did he do?” Joey pulled her knees up.
I tried to think of the silliest thing Adam had ever done, just to try and make him less…intimidating to the girls. Putting myself in their shoes, it had to be scary for a man of his height, stature, and just presence to show up and then all of a sudden be told that they had to live with him.
“When I first met him, he used to wear rain boots, even when it wasn’t raining, just in case the clouds changed their mind.”
“I do that too!” Andi’s face lit up, and her arm shot straight up in the air. “I bring an umbrella to school in case the clouds change their mind.”
“You do?!” Wow. That had to be some sort of nature vs. nurture thing because I had never heard of anyone doing that. Unless maybe their mom told them that their dad did that. Would she know that about him?
Adam said they were only seeing each other for a few weeks. Was that something he would have told Jasmine? Thinking about him sharing that with her made me feel a certain kind of way. Jealous. It made me feel jealous, as if I had a claim to all his childhood memories or something.
Joey raised her hand, following her sister’s lead, as if they were in class. “Did you like him back then?”
“I did.” My chest ached, thinking about just how much I had, and how much I’d missed him. “He was my best friend. I lived right next door.”
“Do you still live next door?”
“No, I don’t, but my sister does and so do my nephews, who are twin boys your age. Luke and Leo.”
Andi grimaced as if she’d just tasted the sourest lemon. “Boys.”
“Your dad was a boy, and he was my best friend. We used to play together every single day. I raised my little sisters, and he helped me with them. They loved him so much. I think they loved him more than me. He was way more fun.”
“He helped you like you’re helping him with us,” Andi pointed out.
“Yep.” Andi was bright. She did not miss a thing.
“Why were you best friends?” Joey asked.
“Um, he was really funny, he made up good games, and he was a really good listener.” He had the best smile, eyes, and made me feel safe, happy, and loved and he smelled really good.
“We would ride bikes, talk on walkie talkies, and go worm and ladybug hunting. We liked a lot of the same things, except I liked horses and he liked dinosaurs. Oh, and he gave really good hugs.”
“Is he still your best friend?” Joey followed up.
“Oh, um, well, I haven’t seen him in a long time."
“Why not?” Joey’s face turned worried.
“Because after high school, he moved away.”
“My friend Mallory moved away, and she Zooms me,” Joey pointed out.
“Yeah, that wasn’t really a thing back then.” But the phone was, and so was the post office, so he really had no excuse. “Plus, when your dad moved away, he went into the military, so he was really busy.”
Andi put her hand on mine. “Did you miss him?”
Wow. I suddenly felt like I was on Oprah’s couch. This kid was trying to break me. I was prepared for a lot of questions, but not that one. It caught me off guard and made my heart jump, like it hit a speed bump at sixty miles an hour.
“Um, yeah, I did.”
“Do you think you’re gonna be best friends again?” Joey’s tone could not have been more optimistic. She was crossing her metaphorical fingers, toes, and eyes.
“I don’t know, maybe.”
Joey reached up and touched my cheek. “I hope that you will be, so you’ll come see us.”
“I will definitely see you. You live next door to my sister, silly gooses.” I smiled.
“Two gooses are geese,” Andi corrected me.
“You’re right, silly geese.” Yeah, nothing got past this kid. “Okay, let’s get back to these books.”
I read all three of the chosen pieces of literature before tucking the girls into the queen bed, making a show of arranging their menagerie of stuffies for maximum protection around the perimeter of the mattress.
Luckily, I didn’t have to try very hard to slip into the motions of a bedtime ritual.
The muscle memory was instant and alarming, like my body had been waiting years to slot right back into the habit.
I tucked the covers up to their chins and smoothed the silky hair off their foreheads, fingers grazing the constellation of freckles scattered above Joey’s left eyebrow.
I leaned down and kissed the top of her head and then Andi’s head, inhaling the scent of Johnson & Johnson shampoo and childhood. I had the strangest sense of déjà vu. The girls even slightly resembled Bailey and Birdie.
Feeling overwhelmed by nostalgia I tiptoed out of the room, filled with unfamiliar sounds and shadows. When I got to the door and flicked off the light. The wind picked up and battered a branch against the siding.
I had a flashback to my own childhood nights next door, how the sounds would morph in the dark, becoming monsters.
During those nights I had a walkie-talkie I could pick up and talk to Adam.
Since I didn’t want them waking up their dad every five minutes, I stepped into the hall, pulled out my phone, and scrolled .
On the way down the stairs, I ordered a sound machine and one of those galaxy night lights I’d seen on TikTok.
The girls were exhausted tonight, but tomorrow night would be an entirely different story.
Halfway down I hesitated, do I send it to my apartment?
Then I’d have an excuse to come over and deliver it to them.
No. That was stupid. I typed out a quick message to go in the package and changed the address so it would be delivered to here, then headed down the final steps.
When I got to the bottom, I found Adam where I left him.
He was on the couch, his body positioned in a crucifixion of exhaustion, arms thrown wide, one hand dangling over the side and the other curled loosely on his chest. His jaw had gone slack, and his mouth was open just enough for a faint snore to escape. He was dead to the world.
He looked peaceful, but not restful, if that made sense.
More like the way someone looks after winning a very long, very stupid argument or after running an ultra-marathon drunk.
Not able to stop myself, I took in the perfectly structured lines of his face, the stubble on his strong jaw, the curl of his eyelashes lying against his cheeks, catching the lamplight.
His t-shirt had ridden up slightly above the waistband of his jeans, exposing a thin band of skin that made me think, for no reason, of cake batter that I wanted to lick.
I shook off the thought and impulse, walked over, and pulled a blanket over him, resisting the urge to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. I didn’t, however, manage to stop myself from whispering, “I missed you.”
Tears began to form in my eyes, but I sniffed back the emotion, and on the way out, I stopped by the kitchen, pulled out two bowls with spoons and mini boxes of cereal, and set them on the kitchen table so when the girls woke up, they’d be able to serve themselves breakfast.
As I opened the front door to leave, I had the strangest urge to, well, not leave. To stay. But that was insane. I had to go. Back to my apartment. Where someone had not only broken into my building but messed with the security footage.
Holy shit. I hadn’t even thought about that for the past few hours. How had I forgotten about my stalker and the note that was in my car waiting for me to take to the police? I’d do it tomorrow before the photo shoot.
Breakfast. Police station. Bridal shoot. Just a typical Sunday.