“Hi, Olive,” I replied, my face automatically sprouting a bright smile. Dang, the kid was even cuter than I remembered, and I felt genuinely happy at the sight of her.
The anxiety that had been plaguing me evaporated. I knew everything would be fine now. Seeing Olive there, in the flesh, my confidence had bounced back full strength.
“Hey, baby girl,” Nick said, gesturing for Olive to come over to us. “Don’t be shy. Come say hello to Evelyn.”
Olive walked over and slipped her tiny hand into mine. “Hi,” she repeated, and my heart melted.
“I’m so excited to spend the afternoon with you,” I said, and she rewarded the effort with a smile.
I glanced up and saw that Nick was giving me a subtle thumbs up. I was glad we’d gotten all the pleasantries out of the way already, because my mouth went so dry at the gesture I knew it was going to take me a moment to regain the ability to speak without stumbling over the words.
“Come on in the kitchen. I’ll show you where the emergency list is posted.”
Nick disappeared around a corner and I moved to follow him, but Olive stayed rooted in place, maintaining her tight grip on my hand.
I retraced the couple of steps it took to get back to her and then knelt down to her level, so that we were looking at each other eye to eye. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
She shook her head but didn’t answer. I thought I recognized the symptoms of what was going on with her. Lord knew I had seen it often enough on opening night.
Stage fright.
Of course, she wasn’t going to be literally stepping out on a stage and performing this afternoon. Neither was I, for that matter. But we were both entering into a brand-new situation, one that had some stakes attached to it. It was kind of scary.
I knew from experience that there was only one surefire cure for stage fright—you just had to get out there and start doing the job. I thought that I could take that principle and apply it in this situation.
“I have a question for you,” I said thoughtfully. “Do you think you could help me out?”
Her lips scrunched together for a few seconds as she thought about it, then she nodded.
“Oh, good,” I said, letting relief infuse my voice. “Because I was afraid I was going to have to figure this out on my own, and I don’t know if I would be able to do it.”
Her eyebrows shot up, curiosity getting the better of her. “Figure out what?”
“Well, your dad said that I should follow him to the kitchen. But now he’s gone, and I don’t know where the kitchen is. I don’t think I could find it by myself. Do you know where the kitchen is?”
Her nose scrunched up in almost an exact copy of the way her lips had just a moment ago. “Yes, silly. I live here!”
“Oh, good! I figured you probably would, and for exactly that reason. I knew you’d be the perfect person to help me. Can you show me where it is?”
“Yeah. Let’s go!”
With that, she took off around the same corner, so quickly that I barely had time to raise myself up before she was pulling me down the hall.
Okay. That’d worked, and all I’d had to do was draw on my experiences and follow my instinct. I could definitely do this—in fact, maybe I’d even end up being pretty good at it.
As Nick showed me around the house, with Olive peppering in her own commentary at every turn, I had the most overwhelming feeling that this was home. I was seeing my true home for the first time.
I had no idea what inspired that, and I couldn’t have explained it with words if I’d tried. But that didn’t make it any less deep, or powerful, or true.
When Nick finally said goodbye to Olive at the door, I could still see worry in his eyes, even though his cheerful tone was making a game effort of covering it up. As he turned to go, I said, “Don’t worry. Seriously. We’ll be fine.”
As I spoke the words, I reached out and casually brushed his hand with mine. I did it without thinking, the kind of casual and reassuring gesture that comes naturally in conversation. But the lightning bolt that shot up my arm at the contact was anything but casual. It knocked me back half a step and sent my mind reeling.
My eyes shot to his, nervous that he’d seen the reaction and would read too much into it—although, realistically, I didn’t know what “too much” would even be. He could go pretty damn far with the whole “reading into it” thing before “too much” even appeared on the horizon.
When my eyes met his, I got another shock, only this time it was mental instead of physical.
He was reeling from the brief touch, too. I could see that in his eyes as clear as day.
Okay, I told myself. So you’re definitely not imagining this. That’s good to know.
The only question left—and it was a doozy—was: What does all of it mean?
Chapter 8
Nick
“HOT DAMN, BOSS. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you close up shop this fast. Why are you in such a big hurry? Is there a fire or something?”
“Yes, Belinda,” I deadpanned. “There’s a fire.”
“When did you join the volunteer fire department?”
I laughed. “Even in your little jokey banter scenario, I can’t be a real fireman? Why you gotta downgrade me?”
Ignoring this, she said, “I think it’s ‘or something.’ And I think I know exactly who that ‘or something’ is.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She patted my shoulder. “Sure you do. It was Drunk Girlfriend’s first time babysitting Olive today, right?”
“Wow, that sounds like a line right out of a file created by Child Protective Services. Please never say those words out loud again.”
“Look, all I’m saying is, I think it’s great. I took you to the bar that night because I felt like your life needed a little shake-up. You’re getting one. That’s good. You deserve some fun, Nick.”
Wow. Belinda was being really sincere—she never called me Nick. She stuck to the half-teasing “Boss” moniker.
“Thanks, B. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Do that. And I’ll finish getting things closed up. You go ahead and head home.”
“Seriously?”
“Definitely.”
It was less than a ten-minute drive from Blackbeard’s to my front door, but it seemed to take forever. It wasn’t that I was worried about what might’ve happened while I’d been gone. It’d been clear by the time I left the house that Evelyn had everything under control. Not to mention, she would’ve called if there had been a problem.
No, it wasn’t fear that was making me anxious to get back to the house. It was anticipation. I just couldn’t wait to lay eyes on the auburn-haired beauty again, hear her voice, watch the way her eyes crinkled at the edges when she laughed.
Not to mention, see the way that Olive looked up at her with the kind of trust in her eyes that hadn’t made an appearance since her mother had been gone.
I parked the car in the garage and came in through the back door. I heard the buzz of conversation coming from the living room. That was a good sign. Normally, when I walked back into the house after having been gone for an afternoon, the most cheerful sound I might hear would be the television that Olive was sitting in front of. On the opposite end of the spectrum—tears, or silence. This was a big improvement.
I made sure to tread lightly as I moved down the hall. This would be a good opportunity to see Olive and Evelyn unguarded, the way they were when I wasn’t around. Anytime she wasn’t right by my side was the hardest time for Olive. That’s when she acted out—or so I’d been told by the people who took care of her when I wasn’t there.
Obviously, because she was fine in my presence, I rarely got the chance to see with my own eyes what they were talking about. So, even if this day hadn’t been a total success, at least I’d learn something from it.
And hey, fingers crossed—the day could’ve gone great. My fear was that all of the promise that she’d show
n with Evelyn would crumble the minute I walked out the door and her separation anxiety would set in… Which then, of course, would sour the whole relationship. And then this whole situation, which I had held out so much hope for being a real solution in our lives, would be destroyed in the course of one afternoon.
I realized that was very fucking extreme, but it was hard not to think in extremes when the stakes were as high as my daughter’s health and happiness, and the situation was as soul-crushing and complicated as this one.
People talk about how hard it is to find hope in the darkness. I disagree. Hope is everywhere. It’s a flame that springs to life with almost any spark to start it. But then—and this is the real bitch of the situation—it flickers and dies just as quickly.
Yeah. Hope is easy to find. It’s hanging onto it that’s hard.
I paused at the end of the hall. God, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Or my ears.
Olive and Evelyn were sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table. Each of them had a coloring book they were working on, and a shared box of Crayons sat in the middle of the table. As they each colored their own picture, they chatted like old friends.
And Olive was…laughing.
Laughing.
My throat caught and I stepped back against the wall. Fuck, no, I couldn’t get emotional. I’d had to shut that part of myself down after Jen died.
Of course I grieved for her. Of course I missed her. Especially at the beginning, sometimes the pain was so bad I thought it might kill me.
But wallowing was a luxury I didn’t—couldn’t—allow myself. Single parents of preschoolers who had almost no one else in the world to protect them just didn’t get to lose themselves in their feelings. It wasn’t an option.
That’s why I hadn’t realized until that moment how scared for Olive I’d actually been, up until now. The fear was so big and overwhelming that my brain had downplayed it while I had no solution. It would’ve been paralyzing.
Now that I saw a better future on the horizon—now that Evelyn had showed it to me—the true depth of what I felt hit me like a Mack truck. It threatened to knock me off my feet.
Shit! I couldn’t let Olive see me like this. She was so attuned to my feelings that when she spotted even slight annoyance on my face, she went into an anxiety spiral that could last for days. It made sense. No one had ever laid out the situation for her, but she was a smart girl—she must also realize that I was nearly all she had in the world to depend on. I was her security.
I ducked into the door to the small bathroom, halfway back down the hall to the garage, and locked the door after me. I needed to get my shit together. Then I could go in and see my girls.
Holy shit. Had my brain really just used that phrase?
My girls.
Fuck. This whole thing with Evelyn, this infatuation or whatever the fuck it was, might run deeper than I’d let myself feel. I needed to keep an eye on that. Olive was the most important thing, and right now she needed Evelyn in her life. I couldn’t let these new feelings make me say or do something that might drive her off.
I’d known that Evelyn sparked something in me. I just hadn’t realized until this moment that it could very easily turn into a full-blown blaze.
Locking down emotions can’t be done in a vacuum. When I’d pushed all my grief down, it had dulled my sensitivity to other feelings, too. I still felt the emotions, and I was still aware of what I was feeling. It was all just duller than before, like I was experiencing the world through a smudged piece of glass.
Now, for the first time in a long time, that glass was wiped clean and I was looking at reality with sharp clarity. It felt…well, I didn’t really know what word to put on it, if it felt good or bad. All I knew was that it felt, and that was enough for now.
Chapter 9
Evelyn
SLINGING MY BACKPACK up higher on the one shoulder I carried it on, I put my key into the lock of my dorm room door and stepped in.
The act of walking through my own door felt a lot less familiar than it really should’ve. Between classes, studying in the library, babysitting Olive, and performances of the show—well, damn, it felt like I hadn’t spent any time here lately, except for the precious few hours a day that I let myself crash.
This was my rare afternoon off, though. The show was dark, Olive was staying with her aunt and uncle for a few days, and my last class had just let out. I planned to let my head hit the pillow ASAP and try not to lift it up for any reason for the next eighteen hours.
The minute I stepped into the room, though, I knew that plan was going to be a bust. All three of my roommates were there, as well as Michelle, and they were staring at me like I’d grown a third head.
“Is this an intervention? Are you guys a bunch of people who love me like crazy, but you feel like you’re losing me and you want to fight like heck to get me back? And now you’re inviting me to join the fight?” I joked, echoing the iconic words of Jeff VanVonderen, my favorite counselor on the TV show Intervention.
Cat laughed. “That’s actually not far from the truth. We feel like we’ve barely seen you in forever!”
“Yeah, I mean I know you’re, like, a huge star of screen and stage now, but, damn. Are you really going to just leave the little people behind?” Sandy teased.
I smirked. “Just stage. Not screen. Yet.”
“Anyway, this isn’t an intervention,” Brandy clarified. “Although maybe it should be. Did you forget we had an ATB meeting scheduled? It’s been on the books for weeks!”
Oh, shit I really had been losing track of my life. Around the Bend, or ATB for short, was the nickname that the five of us had given to our study group early on in its existence. Of course, another thing that happened early on is that we dropped the “study” part of study group and turned it into a “drink wine coolers and catch up on our lives” group. Not as useful, but a lot more fun.
These meetings had always been a highlight of my life here at Winship. And now I had completely forgotten that one of them was even happening. Yeah. I was losing it. The girls were right—maybe an intervention was in order.
“All right, let’s do this. I’m in,” I said, tossing my bag onto my desk chair and flopping down on my bed. “Who brought the booze?”
Sandy lifted a cooler toward me and I heard bottles rattling inside as she moved it. I had to smile. I had grown to associate the sound with these nights, and it always sparked a little bloom of happiness in my chest because I knew what was coming: a few hours of fun, laughter, and girl bonding. Right up my alley.
“So, what did I miss? What’s the hot goss?”
Michelle raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell us?”
“What are you talking about?” I was bullshitting, of course. I knew exactly what she was talking about. I just didn’t want to get into it.
“Someone’s deflecting,” Sandy sing-songed, flopping over onto her back and looking at the ceiling.
“Not deflecting,” I corrected. “Just… I’m not sure I want to get into my private business right now. No offense to you guys. It’s just that it’s called ‘private’ business for a reason.”
Cat giggled. “So. You admit that there is some private business for us to get into.”
“No, I…uh…” I stumbled, flustered. My recent lack of sleep was really having an effect on my brain.
“That is what you said,” Brandy confirmed. “You said that you didn’t want to get into your private business. Which means that said private business is right there and waiting to be gotten into, as soon as we can convince you to dive in.”
“And you know we will,” Sandy piped up. “I mean, that’s like, a given. It’s just a matter of time and how much we need to torture you, and by how many creative, varied, and crazy cruel methods. So, the only logical conclusion is, it’s in your best interests to just give up now.”
“Yes,” Michelle concluded. “Give up the deets on hot tattoo man before we have to, you know. Do all that tor
ture stuff. I don’t know what Sandy has in mind.”
“You don’t want to know,” Sandy intoned ominously.
I laughed. “Okay, okay! Enough. You’ve convinced me.”
“Oh, good,” Sandy chirped, popping up to a sitting position on her bed. “Because I hadn’t really thought of any diabolical methods to get you to talk. Basically, I was just going to keep pestering you until I wore you down.”
“Yep,” I said flatly. “That would’ve done it.”
“So. Spill,” Cat encouraged.
“I really think you guys have built it up to be way more exciting than it actually is.” Regret filled the statement. “There’s nothing going on. At all. I mean, there’s plenty going on inside my head. And my heart.”
“And other parts, I bet,” Sandy interjected, drawing a chuckle from all of the girls. Even me, although I didn’t think the situation was funny. More sad than anything. Verging on pathetic, even.
“Yeah, that’s definitely part of it,” I admitted ruefully. “He is hot. Like…really fucking hot. Smoking hot.”
“Yep, we get it,” Michelle deadpanned. “He’s so hot he’s on fire. Engulfed in flames. Four alarm time.”
“Well, he is!” I protested.
“You’re not wrong,” Brandy agreed, reasonable as always. “I mean, hey, we were talking about him before you even met him, because stories were going around town about the sexy new guy who opened the tattoo shop off the plaza.”
I remembered those conversations. Thinking back on them now, the opinions I’d formed before I’d met Nick, met Olive, it seemed so shallow and naïve.
“So, what about the kid, though?” Sandy asked. “What’s she like?”
My heart melted a little, thinking about her. “She’s awesome. We have the best time when I’m watching her. We color, and play games, and do crafts. She’s so smart, and so adorable. I just love spending time with her.”
“Awwww,” Cat said. “It sounds like you’re just as in love with the kid as the dad.”
“Hey, now! No one said ‘in love.’ I think you might be projecting your situation with Jace and Gavin.”
Meet Cute Page 4
