by Lily Kate
Jessica’s eyes brighten. “What does Mila think?”
“She’s already excited.” It’s a white lie, but I’m going to do my best to make that a fact just as soon as I leave this room. “Just do me one favor this week.”
“What?”
“Try and make things a little easier on your dad,” I tell her. “Boys—men—don’t always know how to handle us ladies. So, if you need to talk or something, feel free to come to me, too. My door’s always open.”
“But sometimes I can’t help when I cry.”
“That’s okay. Me neither. Your dad just worries about you.”
Jessica pulls a blanket that I hadn’t noticed before closer to her chest. It’s ratted out and worn, almost see-through in places. “Thank you, Margaret.”
“You can call me Maggie.”
“Why does my dad call you Margaret?”
I give a lost little smile. “Nostalgia?”
“Good night, Maggie.”
“Goodnight, Jess.”
Shutting the lights off, save for the little nightlight near the door, I inch out of the room and pull the door halfway closed behind me. I peek through the cracked door and lose track of how long I stand there. It must be ten minutes at least because Jessica’s breathing turns into soft, even little waves, and eventually, I finish closing the door.
“A crack, please,” a little voice calls from inside, and I jump to attention. “Leave it open a crack!”
“Sorry,” I whisper, and crack the door open. “Goodnight.”
I tread softly back into the living area, feeling buoyed by my children-whispering abilities. One young girl successfully tucked to bed, the second on the way. I’m feeling pretty damn proud of myself.
“Tyler,” I murmur, as I enter the living room. “I think she’s asleep...”
I stop, realizing she’s not the only one. Apparently, I’m tucking in three people tonight, not including myself. Tyler’s in the same spot I left him on the couch, his mouth cracked open in a sexy little pout, and he’s breathing deeply, fast asleep.
I tidy up the apartment for a quick second, retrieve the lavender towel and shut the windows, closing up the place for the evening. After turning down the lights save for one underneath the kitchen microwave, I grab the biggest, softest blanket from the arm of the chair and rest it gently over Tyler’s body.
I can’t help but pause, breathless at the sight of him. It’s more than his looks or his charm. There’s something incredibly innocent about the way his lips twitch now and again into a smile, his eyebrows creased in concern. I find myself wanting to reach for him, run a finger along his jaw, trace over his worry lines, and whisper that everything will be okay...and that’s when I know it’s time to leave.
I step outside the room, close the door behind me, and jump when a voice sounds next to my ear.
“So, did you sort things out?” Emily asks, waiting suspiciously close to Tyler’s door. “Is he staying here or what?”
“I didn’t get around to asking him.”
Emily frowns. “You were in there for quite a while.”
“I talked to Jess for a bit. She was crying—poor thing had a tough day.”
“And what about Tyler, is he your poor thing, too?”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t answer. Instead, I head for the reception desk to hand the towel basket to Luca.
“Oh, hell no, you are not walking away from me, woman!” Emily marches to catch up with me. “What happened in there?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you floating on a freaking cloud?” Emily gives me a shake. “Little hearts are popping out of your eyes.”
“It’s just...I feel for him,” I say. “He’s a single dad doing his best. Jess has moved to a new city and is finding it hard to make friends. We have a date set up for Saturday to help everyone get along better.”
“Are we talking about you and the Greek god? Or the two girls?”
“Both?”
“Girl,” Emily says with a shake of her head. “You’d better watch yourself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re falling,” she says, pulling me off to a little nook near the lobby. She meets my eyes, her gaze steady. “You were wrecked last time Tyler Daniels left town. I just don’t want that to happen again.”
“I’m not going to let it happen. Things are different this time.”
“Are they?” Emily asks, a surprising sharpness to her voice. “I’m just saying...consider yourself warned.”
As Emily went off to ignore Luca, I let myself into my room and collapsed straight onto the couch. For the first time all day, I simply sat and rested.
Is Emily right? Am I falling for Tyler already?
The thought has my heart pounding.
I’m in trouble.
Chapter 8
MAGGIE
“What’s that smell?”
“Cockiness.” Emily glares over the counter at Luca. “It just drips off of him, haven’t you noticed?”
“I meant the butter. And the...is that popping? Who’s making popcorn at seven o’clock in the morning?”
Luca pulled an all-nighter for us last night since Jenny, the other woman who helps on the night shift, called in sick. Luca’s packing up his things from the front desk, staunchly oblivious to the fiery daggers Emily is shooting at him from the dining room.
“What’d he do to piss you off this time?” I ask, gesturing for a mug of coffee from Jax. “Smile at you?”
“Basically,” she spits. “He told me I looked nicer than usual this morning, and he asked if I had a date.”
“You are all dolled up,” I say. “I thought you had something special going on, too.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” She’s still dissecting Luca’s statement, staring at him when Jax plops two mugs of piping hot liquid in front of us. “Does he think I look like a turtle the rest of the time?”
“A turtle?”
“I just don’t understand it. Why did he say I look better than usual?” she fumes. “Couldn’t he have just said I looked nice and left it at that?”
“Cream?” Jax suggests to Emily.
“Shut it,” she says, sighing as she collapses into her hands. “Men! I tell you!”
I shoot an apologetic smile to Jax, take the cream from him, and dump it into Emily’s cup. I like mine black; she likes hers the shade of snow. “Sorry,” I mouth to him.
“I heard that,” Emily says. “Don’t apologize for them. Men, they’re...they’re pigs, I tell you! What am I supposed to look like at seven in the morning? If I wear pajama pants, I’m a slob. If I put on makeup, I must have a special date.”
“Emily.” I put my hands on her shoulders and give her a little shake. “You’re wearing a sequined dress and high heels. You’ve put on mascara and blush and foundation, and probably a lot more that I don’t even know exists. There’s a fifty percent chance you’re wearing Spanx under your dress. What’s going on?”
Emily frowns, peering at herself in the mirror behind the counter. Jax is frozen halfway between us and the kitchen, too terrified to offer input one way or another.
“Oh,” she says. “Fine. Sorry, Jax.”
His shoulders relax. “You do look great today. Special occasion?”
I shake my head at him. “Too soon, Jax.”
Jax smartly decides to make another batch of coffee before the morning rush starts in the dining room, and he backs gracefully away.
“What’s going on with you?” I ask Emily. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I slept fine.” Emily must hear the snap in her voice because she rephrases. “Sorry. I’m just...embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?”
“I don’t have a date,” she mumbles. “I just dressed up for fun.”
“Why is that embarrassing? You look great.” I gesture at my slim-fitting yoga pants that I like to pretend are business casual, and the tidy long-sleeved shirt that skims my torso. “I�
�m the one wearing pajamas.”
“You look fine,” Emily sulks. “You look great in whatever you wear. I actually have to try to look good.”
I catch a glimpse of Luca out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly, my tune changes. “Could your dressing up have anything to do with the fact that Luca worked all night and you knew you’d see him this morning?”
“It’s Claire’s Halloween party,” Emily admits, still sullen. “I thought maybe he’d go as my date. Just friends of course, but I need a man for the other half of my costume.”
“Just ask him. I’m sure he’d say yes.”
She cringes. “He asked if I was going on a date tonight, and I panicked. I told him yes. Spoiler alert: I don’t have a date.”
“So? Tell him you panicked.”
“I sort of made up someone named Mike. So, if anyone asks, I’m going on a date with Mike tonight. Who makes up a person? I don’t even know anyone named Mike.”
“Right.”
“Please, please, please cover for me.” Emily clasps her hands together, nearly upsetting her coffee mug as she begs. “And please, please, please be the other half of my costume.”
“Are you asking me to be a man for Halloween?”
“Sort of.” She cringes. “I know it’s sort of a sexy holiday or whatever, but I have an incredible costume, and—”
“I’ll do it,” I say happily. “I have no desire to be sexy on Halloween.”
“Really? Maggie—you are the best.”
“When is she having it? I’m trick or treating with Mila on Halloween.”
“Uh—yeah, me too. I have my pillow case all ready for candy collecting,” Emily confirms. “The party’s not until the Saturday after Halloween. I know it’s a month away, but I needed to reserve a date. Also, you have an invitation. It’s on the desk, but I was hoping you’d go with me.”
“Consider me your perpetual wing woman,” I say, and then sniff again, distracted. “I swear, I smell—”
“The popcorn machine,” Emily says, peppy now that she’s got me secured as a date. “Why?”
“I thought it was broken.” I stand, cupping my mug of coffee, and inch into the lounge behind reception. Sure enough, the machine is pop-pop-popping away before my eyes. “Jax, did you fix this?”
Jax pokes his head around from the kitchen. “No, and I have no idea why anyone needs popcorn at seven a.m. It’s ruining the breakfast ambiance. I’m going to have to cook a shitload of bacon to overpower the smell.”
“You didn’t call a repair man?” I ask Emily, confused. She shakes her head no, and I call over her shoulder. “Luca? Do you know anything about the popcorn?”
“Yes,” he says. “I do.”
“And?” I prompt. “Would you like to tell me who you called to fix it?”
“I didn’t call anyone,” he says, giving a warm little smile toward Emily.
She practically quivers under his gaze, and her sequins give an extra shimmer.
“Okay,” I prompt Luca. “Who fixed it?”
“Your boyfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Seems like it,” Luca says, raising his eyebrows. “You went into his room late last night, he came down here this morning and fixed this for you...Sounds like a boyfriend to me.”
I stomp past Luca. “Don’t go spreading rumors—Tyler Daniels and I are not dating.”
I find Mila swinging her feet on a stool at the kitchen counter, slurping up the last marshmallows from her bowl of Lucky Charms. Once a week, Jax allows her sugary cereal—the rest of the time, we agreed to feed her eggs or oatmeal and fruit.
“Didn’t you have cereal two days ago?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at Jax. “Because I’m pretty sure I remember you convincing me to let you have it early this week.”
“More coffee?” Jax reaches over and fills my cup while it’s still in my hands. “Don’t you have to get her to school?”
“Aren’t you going to say it’s lucky I’m so cute?” Mila mimics, sending me a cheesy grin as she slurps the last of the multicolored milk. “Or else I’d be in trouble!”
I’m still half-dazed, wondering why on earth Tyler would’ve taken the time to fix my popcorn machine, especially if he’s not planning to stick around longer than a few nights.
“Brush your teeth,” I tell Mila, “and get back here in five minutes or we’ll be late.”
“Thanks, mom.” Mila leans up and gives me a smushy kiss on the cheek that I have to wipe off with my sleeve.
As she jogs off, I call after her. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, or else you’d be in trouble!”
“I can’t say no to her,” Jax says, when I round on him with an annoyed glare. “She’s too cute for her own good; she should come with a warning label, or an instruction manual—something. How can I say no to her?”
I give him a look that says I’m thoroughly unconvinced that’s the case, then follow Mila back to our suite. I wait, staring out the window while she flicks toothpaste everywhere, startled to spot Tyler walking Jessica to the car.
I lean closer, watching as Jessica stops briefly to examine the decorations. Tyler’s eyes flick up at the inn while he waits, and I leap backward, ducking out of his line of sight.
“Why are you spying on people?” Mila has somehow snuck up on me, and now stands behind me, watching too. “I want to spy, too.”
“I was waiting for you,” I say crossly, ushering her out the door. “Move it or lose it, girlfriend—we’re going to be late.”
“I wish Jessica wasn’t living at the inn,” Mila says with a pout. “It will make things weird at school.”
“Lucky for you, we have a date with Jessica and her father this weekend,” I say. “Apple picking then shopping. Maybe that’ll help you two get along.”
“No! We always go apple picking just you and me! Even Emily doesn’t come with us.”
“Well, we’re changing things up this year.”
“It’s not fair,” Mila argues. “It’s our thing.”
“We have plenty of things, Mila. We spend a lot of time together. I love you, honey, but we have to think about other people too. Jessica just moved here, away from her mother, and she’s lonely. Would it kill us to spend some time with them?”
“So what? I don’t have a dad. She doesn’t have a mom. It’s equal.”
“That’s no excuse, Mila,” I say, though it aches to tell her this. “And you do have a father, and he loved you very much.”
“Tell me the story again.”
“We’re almost to school,” I say, the ache opening a chasm inside of me that I don’t have time to indulge this morning. “Later.”
“Can’t you make it quick?”
I sigh, but Mila knows she has me in the crosshairs. Right or wrong, there’s a deep-seated guilt inside of me for the stories I’ve told Mila, but it’s too late to take them back. “I met your father at a get together—”
“Fancy, like Cinderella?”
“Not quite,” I tell her, “but that’s okay. We fell in love, I became pregnant with you, and we were both so excited.”
“But then he got hit by a car.”
“He wanted to meet you more than anything,” I tell her. “And he still loves you very much.”
Mila sighs, kicks her feet, and stares out the window. “I guess we can go with them if you want.”
“That’s really nice of you. If you feel like being extra sweet today, why don’t you ask Jess to sit with you at lunch?”
“She’s a know-it-all.”
“She’s just new here,” I remind her. “And at the inn...”
“Everyone is welcome,” Mila parrots. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
“That’s my girl.” I kiss Mila on the forehead and walk her to the classroom.
When I return, I slide behind the wheel and drive toward a deep corner of the parking lot, well away from any prying eyes, and rest my head against the steering wheel. And I cry.
I hate lying
to Mila, but I don’t know what else to tell her. In reality, I met her father at a college party. I’d been mourning the loss of Tyler, and Mila’s father, John, had whispered a few nice things in my ear. He’d touched my hair and kissed my neck and made me feel wanted.
We’d slept together—my first and only one-night stand—and he’d asked me to leave before morning.
I’d dragged myself away, crying then, too.
I cried harder when I found out I was pregnant.
I cried hardest of all when I told John about the baby, and he asked me to terminate the pregnancy.
I vehemently opposed, having discovered with startling clarity that I wanted my baby more than anything. Finally, I convinced John that I wouldn’t budge. His sullen agreement was accompanied by the promise not to bother him for a cent, and I had quickly agreed to his terms.
Sixth months later, he had died. He hadn’t been hit by a car—he’d been driving the car, drinking, and crashed into a telephone pole. Probably whispering sweet things into someone else’s ear that night.
He hadn’t wanted to meet Mila.
But there’s no way I can bring myself to tell her that. I hate lying, but when she asks about him, I lose sight of what to say. I’m doing my best, I remind myself, straightening up and wiping my tears with my sleeve.
Enough crying for today.
I’ve come to terms with these bouts of tears; once in a while, the memories become too much, and the world crunches a little too tight against me.
Meanwhile, I’d accepted the consequences of my mistake with joy. It’d taken me some time to adjust to the idea of a new way of life—a baby in college!—but I’d never regretted having Mila for a second.
For her, I wish I could make us into the family unit she craves. I know having everyone around her isn’t quite the same, and I can only hope and pray that I’m enough. Sometimes, it just doesn’t feel like it.
My phone beeps me back to reality, and I answer, still stalled in the parking lot.
“You’re not going to like this,” Emily starts. “The washer broke. I’m covering the front desk—do you want me to call Luca back to bring the towels, or...?”
