8. Liam
Liam
Igive myself a goal of shaking the current image in my head before I reach the balcony.
The picture of Tess's eyes glazing over in a way I haven't seen—and definitely didn't expect—when I told her I sometimes read in the study.
I know I'm off my game—by give or take twelve years—but there was an unexpected heat there I wouldn't forget.
And one I haven't wanted to respond to in too damn long.
By the time we reach the top of the steps, I've wrangled my focus back to where it should be. Tess squeezes next to me between the railing and the wall, and I side-step to give her room—and to avoid inhaling another whiff of sweetness.
Definitely not the ice cream.
"Alright," I say, nodding down the short-side of the hall.
"There's a workout room and storage on this side, but everything else is down here.
My tone comes out dry without my intending for it to, which doesn't surprise me considering my reaction to her eyes that I'm trying to counteract.
Still, I try to reset as I turn down the hallway.
Tess trails behind me as I point to the first door on the left. "This is Ruthie's bathroom. Technically, anyone can use it if they need to, but she's responsible for keeping it clean."
She pops her head into the space that's recently been decorated with pops of yellow and shimmering girl products that make me question how fast eleven turns to seventeen. She raises a brow, impressed. "Spotless," she says with a smile, and a ridiculous wave of pride washes over me.
"She's a good kid," I explain like I need to justify my grin.
I point across the hall to the door decorated with paper drawings that say things like Ruthie's Room and No Boys Allowed (Except Dad).
"I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and say this one's hers?" she quips.
"What gave it away?" I push it open to find an unmade bed and a handful of toys scattered around, her desk covered as it usually is, in unkept markers and clippings of what must be her latest art project.
Tess looks at me, eyes wide, and I laugh and shake my head.
"I'm a little more lenient with her bedroom.
It's the only space that's really hers."
"That's how my parents always were."
"Really?" I ask quickly.
"Yeah," she chuckles. "With five kids, you sort of lose your sense of ownership of… well, anything. The house was way too small with seven people. Whatever corner of one of the two bedrooms we shared was ours, we had free reign of."
"I feel like any house would feel crowded with that many people living in it."
Her eyes fade to the floor, but her smile remains. "Sort of," she says softly. "But in a good way, ya know? At least to me." Her gaze returns to mine. "I was never really alone."
I rub the back of my neck, dragging my hand down my shoulder.
"That's how I feel about Ruthie. People always assume it must be hard being a single dad, and don't get me wrong, it's the toughest thing I've ever done.
But I've never really felt alone either.
Growing up, my brother and I were only a year apart.
I always had him by my side. My built-in sidekick. "
"A partner in crime," she teases.
I smirk. "Right. So, I was used to that. Being by myself never felt right to me." I glance at Tessa to find her eyes on my mouth like she's hanging on to each word. "Then Ruthie came along, and it felt like that again. Having someone to spend time with, to teach things to. To look after…"
"Exactly." When I meet her gaze, she's already watching me—too closely, too sweetly—as if she's seeing a side of me I've been keeping closer to my chest lately.
"Anyway," I say, breaking our eye contact.
I stare at Ruthie's door hoping whatever we were talking about comes back to me.
"It doesn't have to be spotless, but when it reaches a certain point… "
"I got it," she says with a casual wink. "Clutter, not chaos."
This earns a real chuckle, which feels almost foreign. I take a few steps toward the next door and walk in. "This is Ruthie's play—" I stop, resetting. "Sorry, no. I'm told it's not a playroom anymore. It's a hangout space."
Tess laughs, joining me in the room that seems to be changing with my daughter.
Bins of toys line one wall while purses and jean jackets hang on the other.
There's a reading corner loaded with fuzzy pillows and furry blankets and another corner with a karaoke machine sitting on a coffee table stage.
Tess's eyes trail over the wall opposite Ruthie's things with floor-to-ceiling shelves that are filled with my baseball paraphernalia.
The faintest chill rises up my neck as an unexplainable self-consciousness passes through me.
"Again, anyone can be in here," I say, too hurried.
"But she likes to bring her friends here when they come over.
" I walk toward the couch facing the giant flat screen on the wall.
"They pump up air mattresses and watch movies and stuff. "
"Are these all yours?" Tessa asks, still honed in on the countless metals and trophies.
"Uh, yep. That's what happens when you've been at it for as long as I have."
She slowly spins in my direction. "You must miss it already."
She doesn't mean it how it hits me—no one ever does when they're trying to get inside my head with this on my mind. But the truck still barrels into me all the same.
My jaw tightens as I try not to let my anxiety seep out. "Eh, the season's just started. They can't get rid of me that easily."
She smiles, and I force myself to return the gesture. Tess takes one last look over the shelves, her gaze lingering on my Golden Glove. When she runs her thumb over the engraved nameplate, I transport back to when I felt everything looking at what now just seems like decoration.
Back to when everything in my life felt like a beginning instead of a countdown toward the end.
"Is Ruthie allowed to have boys up here?"
"What?" The words yank me back to the moment.
Tess shoves her hands into her back pockets casually, like she asked me the time and not whether my daughter is allowed to have boys in her hangout space. "You said she brings her friends up here. Does that include boys?"
"Oh, um…" I stutter, searching for the answer. When I eventually find one, it comes out unconvincing. "Cooper, I guess."
"Alex's son?"
I nod, running my hand down my face, feeling stupidly defensive. "But that's it… I think. I mean, she hasn't ever had another boy over before, so…"
"So, cross that bridge if and when we get there?" she asks cautiously. Her expression is genuine, but I find myself trying to decide if she's just being thorough or if she's questioning me.
"Yeah."
Tess nods.
"I mean, no."
She cocks her head to one side.
I groan. "I don't know, maybe."
She parts her lips to speak, one brow raised.
"No," I repeat more sternly. "Final answer."
Tessa doesn't push—she simply waits for me to decide—or not.
"Well…" I drag my fingers through my hair, my hand landing on my hip. "Maybe if the door's open."
She walks toward me, smothering a half-smile. Once we're side-by-side—her facing the door and me still stuck in place—she taps my shoulder twice. "We'll cross that bridge if and when we get there."
Her tone is light, but not judgemental, and something about it eases the knot in my stomach. She steps into the hallway, and I blow out a heavy breath, squeezing my eyes shut and willing time to turn back ten seconds.
Or better yet, ten years.
"I assume this is your room," she calls from the hall.
I spin around and move toward the entrance to find her standing outside my bedroom door. "It is." She gives it a passing glance, and I use the time to shake off the feeling her last question left me with.
Tess attempts to seem uninterested by my open closet and king-sized bed, but her cheeks are slightly pinker when she takes a few more steps.
"And those are the guest rooms." I gesture to the two doors at the end of the hallway, one on either side. "Levi's claimed this one," I announce, pointing to the one on the same wall as Ruthie's room. "But this one's yours."
Her gaze darts to me after I point to the spare room next to mine. "I didn't think this was a live-in situation," she says, her tone laced with sudden panic.
"Oh, no, it isn't," I explain. Then, stupidly, "Unless that was something you wanted, then I guess we could—"
"No," she blurts. She quickly paints a smile and tucks a nonexistent hair behind her ear. "I mean, no thank you. Trevor and I, we… we have an apartment, and we're right across town so…"
The sound of his name leaves me instantly irritated. The way he's treated her, or at least what I know of… if Ruthie's future boyfriend ever acted that way…
"That's fine." I temper my tone, pushing open the door.
"It's mostly for when I'm away or there's a late event.
God forbid an emergency." I step inside, and she follows, taking in the room.
"I just want you to have your own space.
" She smiles to herself, letting it go. "So, no one will stay here as long as you're working with us. This room's yours—to sleep in or not."
Tess runs her hand along the soft, cream-colored comforter. She peers out the large window overlooking the spacious backyard, and glances into the connected bathroom and walk-in closet. Everything looks neat and neutral—exactly what I long for life to feel like again.
I watch her, trying not to notice too much that she definitely seems different from the past replacements—different from most people.
I don't find her faking her way through a conversation or overcompensating with sweetness.
The steady confidence, the humor, the banana bread—it all seems genuine. Just like she does.
For the first time in weeks, I get a sense that maybe my judgement isn't as horrific as I thought after all. Like maybe I'm not cursed with bad luck, and this year still has the potential to be everything it should be—memorable and momentous. For both Ruthie and me.
But then, that shadow that's been looming sends a shiver through me full of reminders about the past—recent and not—and I force reality to settle back in.
"So, what's next on the tour?"
I lock eyes with Tessa, pleasant and hopeful—exactly how I'd love to be about the situation.
But I can't.
"That's basically it," I say curtly. "There's a finished basement, the backyard. And you saw the front porch."
Her demeanor changes slightly—more rigid than it was just a moment ago. Standing straighter, she interlocks her hands in front of her waist. "Sounds good."
I turn away from her, resisting the natural urge to crack a joke or drop a one-liner, but then I twist back anyway.
"I don't know if I mentioned this in the interview, but as of now, this is just for the season.
I'll obviously be around much more next year after retiring, and Ruthie will be even older…
" My voice trails off as if I'm learning it too.
She presses her lips together. "I get it."
I tip my chin down and head toward the hallway. "You can find your way back to the kitchen?"
"Mhmm."
"Great," I say over my shoulder. "I'm gonna grab a shower."
I take the few steps it takes to reach my bedroom, walk through the door, and slam it closed.
I wait to hear Tess's footsteps pass by on the other side, and when they do, my eyes slink shut.
I take a deep breath, then push off of the door and walk into my bathroom.
I turn the water on, letting it warm up so that it can hopefully wash away the sweat at my brow.
And the mood I still can't seem to kick.