14. Fia
Fia
My phone lights up, and I silence it again, sliding it into my pocket.
“Are you going to get that?” Halle asks, eyeing my vibrating pocket while she pulls herself up to sit on the coffee shop counter. It’s the afternoon lull at the end of our shifts, and I’m truly exhausted.
I groan, giving in, and pick up the phone. If I don’t, Penny will just continue to call.
“Hey, Pen.” I press the phone between my cheek and shoulder, wiping the wood-grain countertop, straightening each bag of display coffee beans.
“Sorry,” she says, breathless. “I know you’re probably still at work, but do you want to get dinner tonight?”
I blink, my face burning.
I’ve expertly fended off my sister all week. Luckily, Danny works sixty-hour weeks, so hounding me is the last thing on his to-do list.
It seems to be number one on my sister’s though.
“Actually, I’m hanging out with Halle tonight.” I suck in my lips, turning to make a face at my best friend. “I’m sorry!”
Penny sighs. The sound of a television plays in the background. “Shoot. Okay, no problem. I’m leaving tomorrow morning for a conference in Nashville, then I’m only back for one day next week before leaving again for Audrey’s bachelorette week.”
Relief floods through me like cold water. I totally blanked on Penny’s back-to-back upcoming trips.
An easy smile crosses my face. One less person to worry about seeing the house.
Turns out they didn’t have to tent it—Caden assured me they wouldn’t—but there will be a dumpster in the driveway for the next few weeks. Which isn’t much better, to be honest.
“I’ll miss you!” I say, hoping to appease her. “When you get back, let’s have a beach day with Daisy.”
I have to plan something to keep her suspicions at bay. At least at the beach, there’s a million distractions. Penny will focus on Daisy, and I really need a beach day.
“Okay, yeah, I’d love that,” Penny says, and I can hear her smile through the phone. It almost makes me feel bad. But then she has to open her mouth again. “Oh! Did you get new tires, because I've been super concerned since Danny brought it up.”
“Yes.” This time I don’t have to lie. “I am actually taking the car for an inspection and new tires tomorrow. You all can relax now.”
I say it with a little too much edge, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Thank god, you were pushing your luck.”
I pinch my lips together, “Okay, well safe travels tomorrow, love you!” I reply and hang up before she can pry further.
Halle lives in a big house outside of campus with three other girls—all who left for the weekend. As she puts it—a real freakin’ miracle.
“I can’t believe how long it’s been since we got to do this,” she says, grabbing another slice of pizza as we sit sprawled out on a teal rug in her living room. A tie-dye tapestry hangs over the window as a curtain, and it always smells like incense and coffee in here. I love it.
An old season of Bridgerton plays on the TV, but we aren’t really paying attention to it.
“It’s a crime,” I agree, handing Daisy a tube of lip gloss from my purse to occupy her.
Halle smiles at her, reaching out her arms. Daisy toddles her way, fingers tightly gripping my lip gloss. “I can’t believe she is walking. Please stop growing up so fast, you precious little gremlin.”
Daisy giggles as my best friend lifts her in the air, kissing her chubby cheeks.
It’s moments like this that repair little pieces of me.
When I got pregnant, most of my friends slipped away—busy with college, moving for jobs, or just being young. I couldn’t blame them, though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t incredibly lonely.
But then Halle started working at Good Grinds and fully embraced me for me. She was there for me when Daisy was born, never expecting much from a tired new mom but always offering support however she could.
“Hey, did I tell you”—Halle blows a kiss on Daisy’s belly—“I think I’m actually going to graduate this semester.”
I shove her knee, warmth blooming in my chest. “That’s amazing. What a relief.”
Her eyes shift back to Daisy, who’s playing with the gold necklaces around Halle’s neck. She swallows hard, blinking rapidly. “I also talked to my uncle yesterday. He still desperately needs a teacher for the fall semester.”
“Oh.” My chest sinks. She told me about her uncle, the principal of a charter school outside of Charlotte. Four hours from here. From me. But Halle dreams of teaching third grade, and her family all reside on that side of the state.
“That’s good news though, right?” I ask.
She shrugs, a sad smile on her lips. “Yeah, it is.” Tears well in her eyes.
I shake my head. “Nope, we aren’t talking about this yet. We still have the rest of the summer.”
“Fine.” Halle laughs, wiping her eyes. “So can we talk about how all summer I haven’t even swam in a pool and you have access to a luxury pool but refuse to swim in it?”
Daisy tries to climb onto the TV stand, so I grab her, pull her into my lap, and hand her a cup full of yogurt bites. It will keep her busy for three minutes until she decides to decorate the floor with them.
“It just feels weird to me!” I shriek, hands in the air. “I know I’m supposed to feel at home, but what . . . I’m just going to float around in my bikini while Caden cuts his grass?”
With her brows pulled low, Halle scoffs. “Yeah, that’s exactly what you should do. I don’t understand the hang-up.”
Suddenly, I’m sweaty, like there’s a spotlight on me. Daisy comes crashing into my chest, her drooly hands slapping my shoulder. “Gentle, Daisy,” I coo, and she smiles at me, green eyes sparkling with joy, her strawberry blonde curls sticking out at the base of her neck.
Halle stays quiet for a minute, and I know her mind is brewing.
“Just say it, Hal.” I roll my eyes towards her.
“Okay,” she starts, leaning forward on her knees. “Maybe you’re afraid of what will happen . . . because though Caden’s a bit cold, let’s face it, he’s incredibly hot and you’re incredibly hot, and I mean . . . a bikini, a lawn mower . . .” Her brows waggle. “Anything could happen.”
I sit up now, mouth wide open, gawking at my friend.
“No. Freaking. Way. Trust me, Caden is not attracted to me.” I laugh, though my cheeks are burning at the idea. And at the image of his tan and chiseled chest I’ve seen one too many times since moving to the guesthouse.
Halle lifts her hands in surrender. “Okay, well if anything ever happens, you know I won’t tell a soul. But I better be the first to know.”
“Nothing is going to happen,” I croak, reaching out to adjust a stack of magazines on the coffee table. “And just to prove it to you, I will go swimming. And I guarantee he won’t even look my way.”
Halle rolls her eyes. “K, let me know how that goes, babe.”
A little numbing gel on Daisy’s gums, her giraffe stuffie, and the sound machine at full volume was the magic recipe tonight.
By 7:30 PM, Daisy is off to dreamland.
I’m equally exhausted as I fall onto the soft linen sofa. Hamburger immediately comes running up, purring and nudging my hand for pets.
“Hi, Hammy, I missed you too,” I coo, scratching him behind his left ear.
Only ever his left ear though—once I dared to pet him lovingly on the right ear and earned a paw-slap to the face.
I think from time to time he just likes to remind me that you can take the cat out of the streets but you can’t take the streets out of the cat.
A loud sigh escapes me as I stare out the window facing Caden’s house, the pool water like a sheet of glass between us. His Jeep isn’t in the driveway, and though I promised Halle I’d swim when he was around . . . an evening swim sounds heavenly right now.
Quietly, I fish through my packed trash bags and find my swimsuit, happy I decided last minute to pack it. It’s a lavender string bikini that Penny insisted looked gorgeous against my skin and copper hair.
After changing, I take a peep in the mirror.
Tiny stretch marks line the side of my hips: proof I brought life into this world. But I’ve always liked my legs. And despite hating the splattering of freckles across my shoulders as a kid, I’ve grown to love them.
I swivel to look at my ass. The bottoms of this bathing suit are quite cheeky, but overall I guess I don’t look horrible. However, Halle is still wrong. I don’t know Caden’s type, but it’s not me. Definitely not me.
I bet he dates girls who surf or do yoga, who are peaceful and gorgeous without trying. Not girls who live in three-day-old french braids and always have some sort of food crusted on their clothes from their toddler.
Wrapping a pool towel around me, I toss my hair up in a bun and step outside, with the baby monitor in hand. Daisy shouldn’t wake up for at least another three hours.
Outside, crickets and bullfrogs create a symphony, the sun just starting to dip below the tree line. The air is wet with humidity, and I relish being out here alone.
I drop the towel in a puddle on the lounge chair—which looks like it’s never been used—and test the water with my toes. It’s surprisingly warm, and already the knots in my shoulders ease a bit.
The water surrounds me as I push off the blue tiled steps, gliding freely into the deep end. I think a smile even forms on my face.
This is exactly what I needed.