Theo #2
“Not a crime.” She lifted her hands placatingly. “It’s delicious. In coffee. Cereal, even. But mac and cheese?” She leveled me with a firm look. “Absolutely not.” Slowly, she backed out of the kitchen, pointing at me. “Don’t touch it. I’m serious.”
“Fine.”
Once she was gone, I read the instructions, turned the oven on, and put the food on baking sheets. As I waited for the oven to heat up, I silently made my way back upstairs, anxious to know if Scout was letting Brynne help her.
I got to the top of the stairs when I heard them talking, and froze.
“I didn’t think it would happen already,” Scout mumbled. “And not like that. He saw it on my bed. It was so embarrassing.”
My heart squeezed at the vulnerability lacing her voice.
“I’m sure he didn’t care,” Brynne soothed. “He’s a dad. He’s immune to bodily functions.”
Not true.
But I’d pretend that I was for her.
“He’s only been a…” Scout stopped herself. “I’ve only known him for a few months. He didn’t have to go through the bodily functions stage of life with me. He doesn’t know how to deal with it. How to deal with me.”
I tightened my grip on the banister. Was that what she thought of me? That I wasn’t capable of taking care of her? That I couldn’t deal with her?
I wanted to barge in there and tell her she was wrong. I wanted to assure Brynne that I knew what I was doing—a court and judge said so. Otherwise, Scout wouldn’t be in my custody, and we wouldn’t be living here.
But they said I was capable. They said I could do this.
And even though every day felt more and more like being lost in a confusing, never-ending, fog-covered maze, I was working my way through the mist. I was figuring it out.
“He’s a good man, Scout,” Brynne said softly. “And an even better dad.”
The words stopped my heart.
Stopped my breathing.
I might’ve died in that moment, I wasn’t sure.
Emotion clogged my throat, and no matter how hard I tried to swallow past it, I couldn’t. Tears blurred my vision, and I silently sniffed them back.
“Do you think he likes having me around?” Scout asked quietly, almost too quietly for me to hear.
“Of course he does.”
I could almost picture Brynne running her fingers through Scout’s hair, or rubbing her back the way she had been in the bathroom.
“He loves you.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Scout muttered.
“I would.” There was a long pause, then Brynne cleared her throat. “Let’s go make milkshakes.”
That was my cue to hurry back to the kitchen and pretend like I hadn’t been eavesdropping on them. I shoved the nuggets and fries into the oven as the girls walked into the kitchen.
“Hey,” I said, resting my hands on the edge of the counter behind me. “How are…things?”
“Grand,” Scout said dryly. “I’ve never felt better. And just to think—I get to do this every month for the rest of my life! I’ve never been so happy about anything!”
“Well, not the rest of your life,” I said. “Just like, the next forty years or so.”
Brynne pressed her hand over her mouth, silently laughing behind it. Scout just glared at me, but I’d come to expect nothing less.
“We’re here to make milkshakes,” she grumbled, and I shook my head.
“Dinner first, then milkshakes.”
“But”—she waved at her stomach—“dire situation here.”
“Dinner first, kid.”
“This is so unfair!” She let out a frustrated groan. Honestly, I half expected her to stomp her foot, too. But she didn’t.
“Go see Larry.” I shooed her toward the door. “We’ll call you when the food is ready.”
“Larry is probably sleeping,” she shot back.
“Take her a carrot. She’ll wake up.”
“What’s your obsession with everyone eating vegetables?”
“She’s a rabbit, Scout.” I opened my hands, palms out, as if begging her to spare me. “What else does she eat?”
“ Whatever .”
She yanked the fridge open and grabbed a handful of snacks specifically for Larry, and disappeared from the kitchen with only a few more quiet grumbles, leaving Brynne and I standing there, staring at each other.
“Will it be like this every month?” I asked, exasperated.
She gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid it’ll only get worse.”
“Great.”
She patted my shoulder as she passed me. “You’re doing great. There’s a treat in the bag for you, too.”
“Is this a Mary Poppins bag?” I asked, opening it to get a peek inside. “You’re kidding.”
I pulled the little cookie cake out, holding it up to her, a smile spreading across my face.
On it, in blue frosting, it said: You Tried Your Best.
“Thanks, Red,” I said, chuckling.
She grinned at me. “I know you won’t eat it, but I love cookie cake. Could I—” She pointed at it, and I threw my head back and laughed.
“You come to my house, with a gift for me , and expect me to share? How’s that fair?”
She shrugged. “You’re such a giver,” she purred. “I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
“Oh, I’m a giver?”
“You seem like the type.”
I moved around the island, watching as a flush settled into her round cheeks with every step closer. “You’re right, Red. I am. Think you can handle that?”
“I don’t believe you,” she murmured. “I think you’re all talk.”
“I guess I’ll have to prove you wrong, then.”
“I guess so.”
We stared at each other, her hands balled into fists, my chest heaving with every breath.
God, I was about to break. About to slam my lips against hers, or throw her over my shoulder like a caveman and lock her in my bedroom for the next twenty-four hours, just so I could show her how much of a giver I was.
But then the timer on the oven rang, and she jolted back a step, putting some much needed distance between us.
Now wasn’t the time.
But soon.
Soon, she’d be mine in every sense of the word.