Chapter 30

Lincoln

“Have you figured out what you’re doing with your specialty bourbon yet?” Griz asks with his arms crossed, preparing to give me his opinion on what I should consider.

“Not yet,” I tell him. “Ace shot down my idea.”

Kit scratches at my leg with her two front paws. Boosting her onto my lap, I scratch under her neck. “Lark, I think Kit needs to go for a walk.”

Griz watches on and adds, “You realize that is not a lapdog?” And he’s right. The dog has paws the size of my palm and she’s nowhere near the end of growing.

“Kit, tell your great grandpa that you can be whatever you want to be. And to get off my back about the bourbon blend,” I repeat in a low, mocking voice. The dog looks up at me, her tongue hanging from her mouth as if she’s smiling. She barks out as if to answer.

“Kit, tell your dad that it’s my job to be overly judgmental and pushy,” Griz says as he scribbles away at his crossword puzzle.

Ignoring my suggestion to take Kit for a walk, Lark interjects from the living room, “Dad, we’re missing a tent.” I lean back in my chair and look out into the sea of single-person tents draped in white Christmas lights that line the entirety of our open living room.

Griz joins me in surveying the sea of blankets, twinkling lights, and tents that have thrown up all over my house. “This looks like a good time.”

“It took three trips to the hardware store to get enough lights for the drill sergeant over there to approve.” I nod to Lark, and she rolls her eyes like I’m being dramatic.

“Dad, I’m turning twelve, and I’ve never had a sleepover with friends. I want it to be perfect.”

Griz looks around the room, his hands on his hips. “I still don’t understand why there are tents inside.”

Lark takes a breath from blowing up a plastic disco ball, but I answer for her. “Aesthetic, Griz. It’s all about the aesthetic.” She lets out a relieved exhale before she goes back to blowing up the disco ball.

I toe off my boots and wade through the sleeping bag pile and the new fluffy blankets Lark begged and pleaded to order. Sitting next to her, I help tie off the white tent flap on the tenth assembled tent. “You know, I think the aesthetic you’re making is pretty amazing,” I tell Lark, but she still looks unsure.

“You’re not a twelve-year-old girl with unrealistic expectations for a Foxx birthday party.”

“What can I do to make this better?”

She doesn’t say anything at first. Her fingers loop into the twinkling fairy lights around the post of the tent she’s been working on. It’s not until I notice that she’s holding back tears that are welled up in her eyes that I realize something is wrong. Shit .

“Mom would have made it really pretty. She was good at making things pretty.” Her voice breaks. She sits down, her legs criss-crossed as she stares at her fingernails.

I push down my emotions in this moment—the way hearing that makes me feel like I’ve messed up. Like I’m not enough for my girls. And they’d be right. Enough would be their mother still alive. But I can’t change that simple, awful reality. Just like I know her feelings aren’t about me. It’s about my daughter missing her mother on her birthday.

I pull in a deep breath, rubbing at the back of my neck, and try to search for the right words. Therapy has helped all of us figure out different ways we’ve each experienced loss, but it doesn’t stop the feelings from surfacing and what we do with them.

Wrapping my hand around her shoulder, I give it a squeeze. “Your friends are getting here around five.” I lean back, looking at the clock on the mantle. “That’s about six hours to play around with. Maybe we can look through some pictures together. I can tell you about your fourth birthday party and how your mom was convinced she could make a six-layer rainbow birthday cake.” I look around the room. “And if you give me a few minutes, I can figure out how to get another tent here.”

“Okay.” She smiles.

I shoot a glance over my shoulder at Griz and Lily wrapped up in their own discussion. When I turn back to Lark, she’s wiping her tears. Maybe I need to make her feel like she has more than just me to figure all of this out. “Do you want me to have Auntie Hadley or Aunt Laney on standby for later, just in case?”

Shaking her head, she wraps her arms around my neck and says, “Nah, I think we got this, Dad.”

PEACH

We’re on our way back. Is that okay?

LINCOLN

Right now, it’s a mix of chaos with a side of drama about who can sleep next to Lark. But yes, Lily can hang out with me. I was actually feeling very left out.

PEACH

I can stick around to keep you company too if you’d like.

LINCOLN

I would very much like.

About thirty minutes later, I ignore the cold and the fact that I can see my breath so vividly when I breathe out. But right now, the porch is a quiet sanctuary from fifteen twelve-year-old girls.

Faye climbs the porch stairs with a smiling Lily in tow.

“Well, you look like you didn’t have any fun,” I tease Lily.

My daughter holds up both wrists. “I have so many crystal bracelets now. And Faye told me all about how the moon can affect people’s moods, so we stopped into that crazy psychic lady’s shop. The one you always tell me doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but DAD...SHE DOES! She is not crazy, by the way. I think she’s very cool. Her name is Pearl and she’s a Scorpio, but she was born when Mercury was in retrograde, so she said she can be a lot to unpack sometimes. Maybe that’s why you were so turned off by her without even knowing her. She said it happens more often than you’d think.”

Faye covers her mouth, trying to keep from laughing. She looks beautiful in her chunky knit sweater hanging from one shoulder and a pair of leggings that look like they’re painted on. “Yeah, definitely no fun at all.”

Lily smiles at Faye and looks back to me as she asks, “Can I see Lark and her friends now?”

I tilt my head toward the door. “Go for it.”

I look back at Faye’s amused face and leave my filter off. “You’re beautiful,” I say to Faye without reservation.

I glance at my youngest, who’s already inside. “She’s a big personality. Thank you for indulging her today.”

“The psychic was a last-minute addition. I hope that’s okay.”

I link my pinky with hers and bring her wrist to my lips. “You’re new around here. I know what it’s like to take that kid out. You’re not the one in charge, despite what you might think.”

“Oh, I knew that the minute I met her,” she laughs out.

We wade through a mess of bags, a bundled sea of blankets, and tents that have somehow shifted into more than just the living room. A huge rumble that sounds like a herd of elephants upstairs drowns out everything else.

“There's one girl locked in the bathroom because she was pissed off about something another girl said to her. Then Lark got upset because nobody could agree on what they wanted to do. I think maybe I need to feed them? Honestly, I’m stuck on how they’re all still supposed to co-exist until sunrise tomorrow.”

Lily yells out from the kitchen island, “I don’t know why everyone is upset. I mean, look at all this candy?!” She’s sitting with her legs folded on the counter and a mountain of candy bags surrounding her.

“What do you think they would have fun doing?” Faye asks her.

“You’re asking me?” Lily says in surprise.

Faye shrugs her shoulders. “You’re her sister. What would she think is the absolute coolest and most fun thing to do?”

“Hmmm . . . Candy salad and get all fancy like you.”

Faye smiles at me and then raises her eyebrows, wordlessly asking if it’s okay.

Seconds later, Lark comes downstairs with about eight girls on her heels. “Dad, can we—Faye! Hi.” She waves.

“I heard you were having a party.” Faye gives her a small, gray-folded cloth wrapped in a bow. “I know you were looking for a particular one, but this was the one I had gotten when I saw Dave Matthews Band in Seattle. It might be a little big, but?—”

Lark’s mouth drops open, eyes widening. She isn’t my screaming kid, that’s Lily, but she’s damn excited right now. “Oh my gosh, Faye. This is so cool.” Lark looks at me as she turns the shirt around.

“Very cool, kiddo,” I say, mirroring her smile.

Over a mouthful of Skittles, Lily says from the counter, “Lark, Faye said she would do everyone’s make-up if we wanted.”

Lark raises her eyebrows as two of her friends squeal and start saying how fun that would be. “Can you?” She glances at me before she corrects herself and asks, “You wouldn’t mind doing that?”

“I would love to do that,” Faye says as she looks over toward Lily. “Your sister is whipping up a candy salad—Not really sure what that entails, but there’s no way it won’t be good.”

I stack a bunch of board games from the mudroom. “I found Twister and Clue.”

Before the girls grumble, Faye says, “I love Clue.”

And because the pretty stranger said it, everyone is all about it. Not a single “that’s so lame” or rolled eye. Two of her friends start screeching and jumping up and down, and I swear I might have lost my hearing in my right ear when Lark excitedly says, “Please tell me you have more of those rhinestones too for our eyes?!”

“I do. Let me run next door and grab my make-up kits. I just bought some new gems too, so this is perfect timing. Lily, want to be my assistant?”

Lily’s eyes brighten and she hops down from the counter. “Really? Yes, please!”

“I feel like we need some good music.” Faye looks at Lark. “I saw the mirror balls and friendship bracelets, so I’m assuming you have a playlist in mind?”

Lark nods, and they all start shouting song titles. Lily rolls her eyes, like she doesn’t listen to the exact same music as her older sister. “Soooo overplayed.”

It takes just under two hours and there’s glitter everywhere. Hair and arms, counters and pillowcases. All fifteen girls have some variation of sparkles on their eyelids. Half are having a dance party in the center of the living room, while the other group is trying to figure out if it was Mrs. Peacock with the wrench or Professor Plum with the daggers. But somehow, the entire party shifted. The bits of drama have fizzled, and both of my girls are smiling about something.

I lean against the kitchen counter as Faye puts the last of her make-up tools away. “You looked like a natural assistant, Lil,” I tell my youngest as she finishes the remaining PEZ from her holder.

She blows out a breath. “Thanks, Dad. That was hard work.”

Faye looks over my shoulder from her makeshift workstation at the time on the microwave. “I need to get going.”

Lark’s head whips up from the game. “Thanks for helping, Faye.”

The rest of the room rings out in thank yous and praise for how awesome and cool she is.

“Thanks for the invite, Lark. You have really fun friends.” She smiles, glancing at me as she shoulders her oversized bag filled with all of her make-up. She looks for Lily. “Catch you later, Lily!”

My youngest has a cupcake stuffed in her mouth as she mumbles a goodbye and waves.

It’s like a slap in the face how much I want Faye to stay. I hate the idea of her leaving and not being here with me to entertain this crew in the morning. “See you later, Foxx.”

Raising my hand, I give her a wave as she heads out the door because, truthfully, I have a room full of pre-teens who are the epitome of gossiping little monsters. I scrub my hand over my face and mouth. What the fuck am I doing?

“Hey!” I rush outside, closing the door behind me and stalking down the steps without stopping until I reach the middle of the street. I wrap my arms around her and my lips crash into hers. Her fingers rake up the back of my neck and into my hair, sending that Faye-inducing feeling down my spine and across every inch of my skin. I hold her tighter and let my tongue have its way with hers before pulling away. Smiling against her lips, I give her one last kiss. “Come back over later.”

She’s smiling right back, narrowing her eyes playfully before nipping at my bottom lip. “You have a house full of kids.”

“Semantics.”

She snorts a laugh.

“Have any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

She sighs, looking around my face. “I have a show at Midnight Proof.”

“Good. I’ll come watch. Then afterwards, you’re mine for the night.”

“I don’t—” She shakes her head with a smile still lingering on her lips. “What are we doing, Foxx?” she asks softly. The vulnerable tone of voice isn’t something I’m used to hearing from her, but I like that she’s showing that part of herself to me.

I wrap my arms around her tighter and tell her the most honest thing I can muster. “I want to be around you. I like me more when I’m around you . So let me be around you, Peach. And we figure it out as we go along. Lean into what feels right.”

She lets me run my nose along her cheek, and I can feel her smile when she whispers, “I like me when I’m around you too.” Kissing my cheek, she moves to pull away. But I’m not ready to let her go.

“Come back here. Let me kiss you like I’m going to miss you.”

“You’re going to miss me?” she teases.

I cuff a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re making it really hard for me not to.”

She frames my face with her hands and kisses my lips one last time before she pulls away and starts walking toward her house. When she looks over her shoulder back at me and smiles, I know without a doubt that I’m falling hard for her.

I close my eyes before I face my kids. The porch swing morning under the blankets, I lied my way out of and played off, but this isn’t something I can walk back from if they just watched it happen.

And when I turn, both of my girls have their dog on a leash and are watching me try to figure out how to explain what I was just doing. “Shit.” I run my hands through my hair. I didn’t think this through. How do I handle this conversation? I puff out my cheeks and blow out a breath. “Okay, sometimes grown-ups kiss each other. It doesn’t?—”

“We know why grown-ups kiss, Mr. Foxx,” one of Lark’s friends says matter-of-factly.

Great, I’m never going to hear the end of this.

More of the girls from the party have filtered out here now, the porch quickly lining with glitter-infused pre-teens. And then it gets loud again with a succession of questions aimed directly at me.

“Are you going to marry her?”

“Is Faye your girlfriend?”

“My mom said Faye Calloway was going to teach her how to dance.”

“Why does your hair look so crazy?”

“Is she staying in Fiasco?”

I clap my hands and take the porch steps two at a time. “You’re turning into the gossiping old ladies from the book club.” I smile at them. Holding open the front door, I nod toward inside. “Let’s fire up a movie and those fairy lights.”

“You doing alright, sweetheart?” I ask Lark, who was the last in the line.

“It’s a great party, Dad. Thanks.” Lark tips her head back as she walks under my arm. “I’m glad Faye was here too.”