Chapter 24
Cienna
“Aquad? Again?” My favorite barista lifted a pierced brow.
“Who made you the gatekeeper of my caffeine? You’re not a freaking bartender, you’re a barista.”
Darcy squeezed my wrist. Apparently, those words were out loud.
“Shit, sorry. I’m just… anxious,” I apologized as I dug around my purse.
“And you want more caffeine?” Darcy mumbled. She handed over her debit card, then shoved a wad of cash in the tip jar.
My gut had been fumbly and tossy-turny all day. A jumble of nerves and excitement, possibly exacerbated by extra espresso shots in my latte, but I’d be worse for wear without my emotional support coffee.
“Maybe you’re getting worked up over nothing. Maybe he won’t show,” Darcy offered as we walked back to the school, then drew back with a cringe, realizing the topic of “no show” might be slightly triggering. Too soon, Darce.
“He confirmed with me when he picked up Abigail.” God, and he smelled really good, and his sage-colored shirt brought out his eyes even more. “I just need to rip the Band-Aid, spend a little time in our new dynamic, and then I’ll be okay.” Teacher. Parent. We can do this.
She held her arm up to my face, turning it to show me her watch. “You only have one more hour.” This didn’t have the calming effect I supposed she thought it would, and I moaned as she dropped me off at my classroom.
By the time five o’clock finally came, I had already sanitized every surface of the classroom with Lysol wipes. The room had a clean, lemony-fresh smell, but so did my hands, unfortunately. Layers of vanilla hand cream only made me smell worse, like a disinfected cupcake.
When five after rolled around, déjà vu washed over me. I agreed to give him five more minutes, and then I’d call. Send a text. Something. But I would not sit here and wait.
My phone blared from my desk, echoing through the room and startling me from my fifth application of hand cream. “Hey, I’m so sorry,” Reed launched at me before my slippery hands could get the phone settled at my ear. “I know we agreed to meet at the school, but is there any way you can come here?”
I paused to think, though apparently too long, because he spoke up again. “If you’re not comfortable—”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I cut him off. “It’s fine. Yes.” Very articulate of me.
“Okay, thanks. I’ll text you the address.”
A moment later, his text came in.
Reed: Abi had a complete meltdown when I tried to leave. I thought she’d want a playdate, but I guessed wrong. I can’t leave her, so I appreciate you being flexible. 1112 Cedar Creek Drive.
It was a short drive to his house, only a few blocks from the school, built on a street littered with basketball hoops, minivans, and children’s bikes along front walks. It felt homey and family oriented, and that made me happy for Abigail.
Lifting my fist, I rapped on the door, and Reed answered, taking the disheveled look to a whole new level of sexy.
His copper hair lost some of its curl and stuck out, his cheeks were blotchy, and his eyes were a hue of purple and red.
Still beautiful, but I felt exhausted just looking at him.
The urge to reach out to his cheek and cup his face, if only for a moment, nearly took me out at the knees, but I managed to keep my hands to myself.
He stared for a few seconds, the door cracked, then swung it open completely, revealing the dimly lit inside.
I stepped through the entrance and scanned the surroundings. To my left was a living room, and Abigail was cross-legged on the couch, watching TV. All around her were piles of laundry, but her little spot was cleared out.
A rainbow blanket was tucked in around her legs, and a large bowl of something sat in her lap. Spread out around her were more bowls, smaller in size, a couple of juice boxes, and a pile of fruit-snack baggies.
She lifted her little hand in a wave from her throne. “Hi, Ms. Vilotta.” Her sparkle was slightly dimmer than usual, but her sweet smile still squeezed my heart.
“Hi, Abigail. You look very comfortable. Like a cozy snack princess.”
She giggled, then looked back at the TV screen.
Reed led me further inside to the kitchen area. It was moderate in size and had an island that connected to a small dining room. We walked through, and I tried to disregard the overflowing dishes in the sink and the countertops cluttered with dirty casserole dishes. He cooks casserole?
“Sorry it’s such a mess. I haven’t had much time to clean up this week.”
“Oh, please don’t apologize. You’re a busy guy.” Ugh, I sound like an idiot.
We sat in the dining area at a small round table that seated four. A princess plate and a fork that had a mermaid tail made up one of the place settings. It had three pink fruit snacks and a few Goldfish on it.
Awkward silence stretched between us until I sighed and Reed suddenly hopped up. “Did you want something to drink?”
I nodded emphatically because, if anything, it gave me something to fiddle with. From the kitchen, his head ducked into the fridge, and he called out, “I’ve got Kiwi Strawberry, Berry Breeze, or Pacific Cooler.”
To a normal ear, those might be confused for wine coolers, but a kindergarten teacher knew better. Juice pouches were my silly guilty pleasure. “I’ll take a Pacific Cooler and a cup of water.”
He turned, arms still holding the fridge open, and smiled at me. “That’s my favorite.”
From the living room, Abi called out, “Uncle Reed, you have to share!”
Covering my mouth, I stifled a laugh, and he pursed his lips playfully.
“Fiiiiiiine.” Reed made a big, dramatic deal of stomping to the table and handing me the juice with an adorable but fake pout on his face.
I wanted to grab his puckered lips. I wanted to tangle them with mine and bite them and have them all to myself.
Whoa. Okay, breathe, woman.
Butterflies flapped around in my stomach as he sat in the chair next to me and grazed my knee with his. I wanted so badly to pull away, but the sweet torture of it all made me stay put and enjoy the contact. “Okay, where do we start?”
Before I could answer, a voice pulled up at my side. “Uncle Reed, you don’t just give juice when you have company. You’re doing it all wrong,” Abi huffed, then stomped into the kitchen, followed by banging and scuffling.
After a minute, she popped up between us, balancing three bowls stacked and teetering.
She set each on the table carefully, one with Goldfish, one with Lucky Charms, and one with baby carrots.
She ran back to the kitchen again and returned with two wine tumblers filled to the brim with… good ol’ milk.
She put her hands on her hips and faced Reed, all of her sassy wrath focused on him. “Uncle Reed, this”—she pointed to the gathering of her hostess offerings—“is how you do it. Ms. Vilotta is our guest, and guests get hungry.”
Reed puffed his cheeks and then blew out the air like a sigh. “Well, Abbers, I’m so glad you gave me this etiquette lesson. Thank you.” He kissed her forehead.
Ack! Feels…
“All right, now that we’re settled, go in the living room so Ms. Vilotta and I can do our work.”
Abigail, wearing a tutu over her onesie pajamas, curtsied to each of us and then ran off. Her energy was light, and it made my heart happy to know that whatever she was struggling with earlier had passed. Tutus to the rescue.
Reed grabbed a bowl and passed it my way. “Lucky Charm? You can pick out the marshmallows, I won’t tell.” He winked. Actually winked. That shouldn’t be allowed.
“No thanks, I’m good.” My voice came out with a tickle, and I squeezed my lips shut to avoid more sounds from escaping.
The bowl clattered against the table as he set it down and clasped his hands. “So what do we do first?”
I mirrored his folded hands and playfully let out a “Welp.”
He cracked a smile, and I held his gaze for a moment before reaching down to my book bag and pulling out a notebook.
His eyes darted around the table. “I don’t have anything to take notes. Should I?”
I shook my head. “I got it. So,” I said, turning to him and patting both hands on my notebook.
“So.” He faced me, copycatting my movements. Who are the kindergartners now?
“Before we start, I just wanted to say how cool I thought it was that you voiced your opinion. Father-daughter dances are pretty antiquated, but it’s easy to get on the board’s bad side when you disagree with them…
unless you’re a mysterious, handsome guy, new to the school, with a nice smile… ” Stop now.
Reed dipped his head as he sighed, but he was smiling.
“I remember the daddy-daughter dances at my school. My sister loved them. We’d all go to a nice dinner, and she’d wear a pretty dress, and Mom would make me wear a button-up.
” His voice was dreamy and quiet, but his eyes were unfocused, his mind somewhere else.
“We were so happy, and we got to pick out dessert, so it was hard to be mad or jealous about not having a dance of my own. Mom and I would drop Dad and Caroline off, and then we’d go home and bake cookies. We did this for, like, four years. First grade through fifth.”
Then his head dipped again, but this time, he left it down and took a deep breath.
“I remember the first daddy-daughter dance after my dad passed, and how sad Caroline was at school. There were posters and yapping from her friends, and I saw her crying a few times. The night of the dance, Mom and I tried to bake cookies with her, but she wasn’t really into it.
When I checked on her after bedtime, she was curled up in bed, holding her dress from the year before and crying.
After that, I didn’t envy that dance at all, or ever again. ”
His shoulders dropped. “Anyway, it’s bad enough that Abi is going to have to deal with Mother’s Day every year for the rest of her life.”
“Is her father involved at all?”