Chapter 2 #2
His hand is warm when I shake it, his grip steady and confident. “Emma, then. I’m Theo.” He releases my hand and glances down at Chloe, who’s watching us with bright eyes, clearly thrilled that we’re talking. “Though I have to say, I almost didn’t recognize you without a box of candy.”
I laugh and his eyes light up with amusement in a way that makes the rest of the pickup area fade out.
“Well, no boxes today, but I’m not entirely without my stash.
” I reach into my cardigan pocket and pull out a handful of wrapped candies.
“You never know when you’ll need emergency licorice.
” I look down at Chloe and wink. “Right, Chloe?”
Chloe nods enthusiastically, bouncing on her toes. “Miss Hayes and I are the only ones who like licorice in the whole class. Everyone else thinks they’re gross.” She giggles, looking proud of this shared preference.
“You and I have excellent taste,” I tell her, tucking the candy back into my pocket.
Chloe tugs on Theo’s hand, pulling him slightly closer. “See, Daddy? I told you Miss Hayes is the best.”
He laughs, warm and easy, then looks back at me.
His expression shifts, becoming almost apologetic.
“Look, I’m sorry it took this long to actually meet you properly.
I missed parent night back in September because we had a restaurant emergency and I’ve been meaning to schedule a time to come in and introduce myself ever since.
” He runs a hand through his hair. “This is embarrassingly late in the school year, especially since Chloe hasn’t stopped talking about her favorite teacher since the first week of school. ”
My eyes prickle unexpectedly. It’s been a brutal first year—long nights lesson planning, constant self-doubt, that one week in September where I cried in my car during lunch break three days in a row.
Hearing that makes every second of it feel worth it.
I smile down at Chloe, who suddenly looks uncharacteristically shy, ducking her head against her dad’s side.
“Daaaaaaad,” she whines, drawing out the word, her face going slightly pink.
“There’s no need to apologize,” I say. “I don’t usually do pickup duty, so we probably would’ve kept missing each other anyway.
Mrs. Patterson normally handles this, but she’s home with the flu.
” I shift my clipboard to my other hand.
“And I adore Chloe. She’s told me quite a bit about you too, actually.
She says you’re a very good cook, except for when you try to sneak broccoli into her dinner.
” I grin down at Chloe, who dissolves into giggles.
He laughs and reaches down to tickle her side, making her squirm away. “Is that true? You’ve been complaining about my cooking at school?”
“Daddy, you make the best pancakes. The best everything,” she says, recovering from the tickling with impressive speed. “But broccoli is not real food. Even Uncle Alex can’t convince me otherwise.” She flips her hair back with the kind of sass that makes me bite back a bigger smile.
“Uncle Alex would be devastated to hear that,” Theo says. “He thinks his roasted broccoli is a masterpiece.”
“Well, Uncle Alex is wrong,” Chloe announces with the supreme confidence of a seven-year-old.
I can’t help but laugh at her certainty. “You know, I have to say, I respect someone who knows what they like and sticks to it.” I look back up at Theo. “Though I’m sure you’re doing your best with the vegetable situation.”
“Losing battle with the broccoli, though she likes pretty much everything else,” he says, shaking his head with this resigned smile that says he knows exactly how this war is going to end. “But I keep trying. Figure one day she’ll cave.”
“Good luck with that,” I say. “In my experience, the stubborn ones usually win.”
Chloe nods emphatically, crossing her arms with a triumphant grin.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, and I notice for the first time that there are gold flecks in those warm brown eyes. He’s got this really nice smile, the kind that makes you want to smile back without thinking about it.
“Daddy, can we go get ice cream now?” Chloe tugs on his hand, looking up at him with big hopeful eyes. “You said if I had a good day we could, and I had the best day.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Was it actually the best day?”
“It really was,” I confirm. “She helped Noah with his reading during partner time without being asked, and her fish race car drawing is going up on the bulletin board. Definitely ice cream worthy.”
Chloe beams triumphantly. “See?”
“Alright, counselor. Let’s go get ice cream.” He ruffles her hair affectionately, then looks back at me. “It was nice to meet you, Emma. Officially this time.”
“You too,” I say, and realize I’m still smiling like an idiot.
“Bye, Miss Hayes!” Chloe throws her arms around my legs in an enthusiastic hug that nearly knocks me off balance. “See you tomorrow!”
“See you tomorrow, sweet girl.” I pat her back, steadying myself.
When she pulls away, Theo catches my eye one more time. “Thanks for everything you’re doing for her. Really.”
“She makes it easy,” I say honestly, because it’s true.
His smile deepens, reaching his eyes and making those crinkles more pronounced, and then they’re heading toward the parking lot. Chloe swings his hand between them, and I turn back to my clipboard, trying to refocus on the remaining students waiting for pickup.
“You know, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in this town.” Lindsey Martinez, one of the other teachers, materializes beside me like a gossip ninja. She’s giving me a knowing look over her reading glasses. “The whole family is gorgeous. It’s honestly unfair.”
“Oh really?” I try to sound casual, like I wasn’t just watching him walk away with a stupid smile on my face.
“Mmhmm.” Her smile widens. “Single dad. Owns Harbor & Ash with his brother Alex. You know, that restaurant that got written up in the Seattle Times last year?”
Single. The word makes my heart do this annoying little flip that I immediately try to suppress. “Oh. That’s nice.”
“Very nice,” Lindsey agrees, her tone making it abundantly clear she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Nicest guy you’ll ever meet, too. Total sweetheart with everyone. Great dad. Always volunteers for field trip duty.” She pauses meaningfully. “And he definitely noticed you.”
“He was just being polite,” I say, focusing intently on my clipboard like the names written there suddenly require my complete and total concentration.
“Uh-huh. Sure. That’s what that was.” Lindsey’s still grinning as she heads back to her own group of students.
I stay focused on my clipboard, calling out names and matching kids to parents, guiding the controlled chaos of pickup.
But my brain keeps circling back. Single dad.
Restaurant owner who apparently makes incredible food.
Objectively attractive in a way that makes it hard to think straight. Great with his kid.
The last parent pulls up and I check off the final name, waving as the car pulls away.
The pickup area is empty now, just me and my clipboard and the late afternoon sun slanting across the pavement.
I head back toward the building, already planning tomorrow’s lesson on fractions, but part of my brain is still back in that conversation, still replaying the way Theo Midnight said my name.
The Pine Lodge Extended Stay is located on the outskirts of Dark River and has exactly one thing going for it: the price.
I drop my purse on the desk chair and toe off my shoes, surveying my kingdom.
Beige walls, beige bedspread, beige carpet that’s probably older than I am.
The whole place looks like it was decorated by someone whose only exposure to interior design was a single Instagram post about minimalism, except they stopped reading halfway through and just went with “beige hellscape.”
There’s a water stain on the ceiling shaped vaguely like Florida, which I’ve named Gerald.
There’s a kitchenette consisting of a microwave and two burners that I’m pretty sure violate several fire codes.
There’s a persistent smell of industrial cleaning products that no amount of candles can quite mask, and I’ve tried.
I currently have four candles going, and now my little room smells like chemicals and vanilla and desperation.
I’ve been here since August and it still feels like I’m crashing in someone else’s waiting room. Someone who really, really likes beige.
I glance at the dishes in my sink from this morning’s smoothie and consider washing them.
That seems like a problem for later tonight.
Or tomorrow. Or possibly never. Instead, I collapse on my beige bed and pull up apartment listings.
When I originally booked this place, I naively thought I’d be here a week, maybe two until I found something permanent.
I’d dealt with the Seattle rental market, after all.
How hard could Dark River be? Turns out, very hard.
The thing about small towns is that space is limited and everyone knows it.
There was a pretty cute place available when I was first looking. Decent price, only a bit further from school than ideal. I passed on it, thinking something better would come along. Now I could kick myself. I could kick past Emma right in her optimistic face.
I scroll through the same listings I’ve been seeing for weeks.
Big houses way out of my price range. Places so far from school I’d need to pack a lunch for the commute.
Rentals that look like they were built in the seventies and haven’t been updated since, and not in the cute retro way but in the “has anyone cleaned this since Nixon was president” way.