Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

" K iss her! Kiss her!" the girls cheered in unison.

I groaned in mortification. The straw-strewn grass of the bustling farmer's market petting zoo was hardly a gladiatorial arena, but it sure felt like my daughters had thrown me to the lions. Or rather, to the bunnies.

"Kiss her! Kiss her!" they chanted.

I'd always considered myself a strong planner. There was no amount of planning, no number of mommy blogs or prep books that adequately prepared a person for the reality of raising two girls as a single parent.

"Wait… her ?" Citra tossed her dark braid over her shoulder and smirked at her younger sister. "How can you be sure it's a girl rabbit?"

Ivy lifted her chin as she clutched the docile creature. "Cuteness is for girls. Look at these floppy ears and this floofy butt. She has to be a girl."

"Flip it over and check," Citra said.

My breath hitched and froze in my throat.

"Don't do that," I said in a rush.

Ivy ran a hand softly over the rabbit's long ears and cooed at it, "I would never ever."

I let out a sigh of relief.

An hour ago, while we walked to the Dogwood farmer's market, the bright sun made the weekend feel full of life and possibilities. If someone had asked me then how I'd feel about eleven-year-old Citra finally putting down her phone and voluntarily engaging with six-year-old Ivy and me, I'd have confidently responded that I'd be thrilled.

Now that it was happening, I was closer to exploding into stress confetti than cracking a smile.

"It's probably a retracted penis anyway." Citra shrugged. "One of the ones that shrivels up into its body."

My jaw dropped and all meaningful words escaped me. The ogling interest of the townsfolk around us made my lack of response feel all the more pathetic. My mind was somehow blank while it was also a superhighway for thoughts that raced so fast I couldn't catch a single one.

Having to say something, I managed a scolding, "Citra."

"She said penis ," Ivy whined at a rapidly rising volume. Then she snapped a glare at her sister and shouted, "You're not supposed to say penis ."

Every other family in the vicinity moved away from us. I couldn't blame them. As I watched them retreat, I smiled a friendly we-don't-usually-shout-penis-in-public smile.

"It's not a bad word," I told the girls. "But it's a private word, one we generally don't talk about so loudly or publicly."

Ivy beamed up at me with her big brown eyes and thrust the rabbit as close to my face as her short arms would allow. Instead of responding to the words I'd said, she went with, "It's a girl bunny. Girls are better. Kiss her, Mama."

"Seriously, Mom, what's the worst that could happen?" Citra asked in her usual aloof tone, as if she hadn't been chanting with enthusiasm moments ago.

"Rabies," I said, though I really probably shouldn't have. That was at least a third of parenting—immediately realizing that thing I just did or said was wrong. Another third was playing emergency clean-up crew to the constant influx of disastrous messes.

Somehow the biggest part of parenting—definitely more than a third—was unwavering levels of love.

"Pretty sure they check for diseases before they put the animals out here for little kids to pet," Citra told me. "Come on, it'll make a great pic. You're the one who's always like but the memories."

Okay, I may have once or twice coerced the children into posing for a photo they didn't want to take. It was always the standard requests though, like holidays, the first day of school, or making them hold still during a particularly adorable everyday moment.

"Remember the matching dresses?" Citra said.

She didn't have to say which dresses for me to know what she was talking about. They had been pink wool and tulle with turtlenecks and matching stockings. The girls had looked like tiny flamingos in them, and they'd cried the entire twenty minutes before I let them change.

"Grandma bought those," I said. "And I don't even know how you remember. You were like six at the time."

"I'm forever scarred," Citra said, with a haunted quality beyond her years.

My phone dinged three times in quick succession from my pocket. I clicked the silence button.

"Remember when you made me sit in the giant bunny man's lap? He was so scary. The eyes. The teeth!" Ivy's whole body shuddered. " Definitely a boy."

That particular instance had been to get portraits with the Easter bunny, and a totally nice family outing that I'd expected Ivy to love. She'd always had a soft spot for bunnies.

"This is nothing compared to the torture of that itchy corduroy you made us wear last Christmas," Citra said.

That wasn't last Christmas. Citra couldn't have been older than eight at the time.

"That was three years ago," I said. Maybe it was even longer than that. But she was right that they'd suffered through uncomfortable situations all in the name of filling photo albums.

"This is just a tiny smooch." Citra smiled, sensing my weakness, sensing my conviction wavering.

Ivy smiled, too, though hers was more hopeful than predatory.

They had come with me to the farmer's market for a family outing, and all they wanted was to take a picture. It would be cute. The white fur covering the animal's body looked clean enough. Its black ears did, too.

I could handle a little bit of the cesspit of germs that was a dirt-dwelling animal, plus those of every child in Dogwood who had touched the animal. This was the moment I took all of that vitamin C for.

I took a breath. "Okay, I'll do it."

Citra's phone appeared in her hand before the words escaped my lips, camera pointed and ready. I bent down, puckered, and inched closer to the rabbit. Ivy thrust forward, jabbing the side of the rabbit's face against my mouth.

The floppy ear twitched at the exact wrong moment and squeezed through the seam of my lips.

It grazed my tongue.

The tiny hairs tickled and tangled. What could have been a few of those hairs, or even a thousand, broke off and glued themselves to the roof of my mouth. At least three hit the back of my throat.

Revulsion swarmed outward from my mouth through my every nerve.

I reeled away from the oral intruder, then pitched forward, hands on my thighs as my whole body heaved. My internal organs twisted and wrenched. The involuntary gagging sounds that came out of me were not unlike those of an owl regurgitating a rodent-skeleton-filled pellet.

Through the tears pooling in my eyes, I watched Ivy's expression transform from joy to concern. Through the heaving, I heard Citra's laughter spike and then quickly fade.

As someone who thrived on being in control, I felt completely out of it. The very last thing I wanted to do was ruin our family day by scaring the girls. Get it together, Daisy.

"I'm— gag —okay." I put every ounce of effort I had into stilling my body and smiling.

Both girls looked terrified. Ivy held the rabbit tight to her chest, like it might catch whatever horrible disease was currently killing me. Citra's hazel eyes were glossy, her phone dropped to the ground and forgotten.

"Everyth— cough —ing's all right," I said, finally pulling myself together. "Promise."

I pressed my lips tightly together and lowered down to my knees. I opened my arms. Ivy ran over immediately and clung to me. She adjusted the rabbit so it pressed against the side of my head.

"I didn't mean to scare you. The ear went in my mouth. It was only a hairball. I'm okay." I gestured for Citra to join us.

She shook her head.

"Please?"

Citra kept staring at me, her eyes glossy, her mouth flat. "I'm not scared."

"Okay." I dropped my free arm. "That's perfectly okay, too."

"I know."

"I was scared," Ivy said. "So was Bunbuns. She thought you were going to eat her ear."

I chuckled softly. "I think we're both glad that didn't happen."

"Me, too," Ivy said.

I tried to get back up to my feet, but my knees were stiff and getting up off the ground after forty wasn't as easy as it used to be.

"You can't name the rabbit," Citra told Ivy.

"Can too," Ivy said.

"Why don't you go ahead and put Bunbuns back with her sisters," I told Ivy. With a groan, a rocking maneuver, and a whole-body effort, I lifted myself back to my feet. "Then we can get some more of your favorite jam, and some of Citra's favorite cookies before we head home."

"I don't need any cookies," Citra said, a small tremble in her voice beneath what was otherwise a successful facade of calm.

"I do," I told her. "I need lots of cookies."

"Me, too," Ivy said as she delivered the rabbit to the straw.

"Which cookies?" A deep voice carried the question through the air in a friendly tone.

I heard the lightness of the words with my own two ears, but that's not what my brain registered. The rough timbre of my secret late-night rendezvous partner resonated through my body from head to toe. It washed across my skin, leaving goosebumps and heat in its wake.

Without question, in only two words spoken, I was certain that the voice belonged to the man next door. I felt it deep in my chest, in my erratically beating heart.

I'd never wanted to actually come face-to-face with Hugo. I preferred not to know what he looked like. Our every interaction over the last three weeks, all the chemistry I'd felt, could be explained away as fantasy.

Meeting him meant he was real.

And I refused to have a crush on a man who existed outside of my romance books.

Still, I could feel the actual, real-life Hugo approach.

What kind of example would I be giving the girls if I grabbed their hands, screamed don't look at him, and ran away now? Not a great one.

Maybe he hadn't recognized me. Then he couldn't match up the lunatic running away at the farmer's market and the voice on the other side of the fence.

He was too close. I was too late to run.

With no other choice, I turned and got my first look.

The first thing I noticed was the size of him. He was huge, all hulking height and bulging muscles. Then there was his jaw, covered in a dark, trimmed beard. He was jagged lines, and soft eyes, and a mouth that somehow looked both wholesome in the way that he smiled yet perfectly pouty for deliciously dirty things in private.

Oh my gosh, my brain needed to stop.

"Citra likes the carrot cookies, like she's a bunny." Ivy cackled.

Citra picked up her phone from the grass and crossed her arms. "Am not."

"Those are my favorite, too," Hugo said. "It's the cream cheese chips that make them special."

Citra's lip quirked up ever so slightly on one side. "They're all right."

"I'm sorry to intrude," Hugo said, turning his gaze on me.

A fresh wave of heat carried up my neck as I distinctly looked anywhere but back at him.

"I heard familiar voices," he said. "I moved in a few weeks ago to two twenty-four Baker Street, thought you might be the next-door neighbors I hadn't officially met yet."

"We live at two twenty-six," Ivy said, confirming that yes, we were the people who lived next door.

"Nice to meet you, neighbor," Hugo said, and offered his hand.

Ivy gave it an enthusiastic shake. "I'm Ivy."

"Hugo."

Wait. He said he'd heard voices, our voices. How much of the horrorfest that just occurred had he witnessed?

Hugo offered his hand to Citra, who twisted her lips and made no move to accept.

"That's Citra," Ivy said.

"Nice to meet you, too, Citra," Hugo said before turning his attention to me.

"That's Mama," Ivy said.

Finally our eyes collided. His crinkled slightly at the sides. Mine glued themselves open, and likely would never blink again.

Ivy said, "She didn't bite Bunbun's ears, but I think Bunbun pooped on her shoulder."

Oh no.

Hugo's gaze didn't leave mine. Instead of some kind of delightful shared moment of love at first sight, it felt more like a game of chicken as to who was going to look at my shoulder first. Except he could probably already see it.

I blinked, took a breath, and slowly twisted my head. Three brown balls sat on my sweater. "Eww."

Flapping the fabric, I tried to shake them off without touching them. The balls flew off and sprayed the ground by Hugo's feet, because apparently my behavior today couldn't get any more horrifying.

Mortification crept up my neck in a wave of rising heat.

"I didn't mean to throw poop at you," I said. "I promise today is not an accurate representation of who we are."

"It kind of is," Citra said.

"We don't yell penis in public," Ivy said.

And now it was worse.

I could swear I saw amusement dancing in Hugo's eyes. "You must be Daisy."

"Daisy Walsh," I said.

"Nice to meet you face-to-face, Daisy Walsh."

No way was that possible. But instead of telling him so, I said, "Same."

"The cookie vendor is out of carrot cake cookies," he said. "I bought the last ones. Would it be all right if I share?"

I could feel the pointed gazes of both girls on me, like they were trying to send pleas through their brainwaves.

I said, "That's very sweet of you."

"Neighborly," Hugo said.

"Right."

Ivy pulled on my shirt. She whispered, "Say yes."

"Yes," I said.

"Yes!" Ivy punctuated her enthusiasm with a punch toward the sky.

Hugo handed me one of the two boxes from his bag. "I've got to go, but I'm glad to finally see you in person."

The words that wanted to come out of my mouth— the pleasure's all mine. Then maybe a brow waggle would follow. Instead, I pressed my lips together and attempted a cool and collected smile.

Hugo gave the girls a wave. "See you around."

He turned to go. I didn't stare at his butt. I wouldn't. Couldn't.

Having it all was just for storybooks. It didn't exist in reality. I had enough. I was happy, fulfilled, and had zero room in my life for romance.

"It's polite to say thank you," Ivy said.

"Thank you," I called after Hugo.

"Thanks," Citra said, half under her breath.

"You're welcome," he called back, with another flash of that gorgeous smile of his.

We stood there, me not watching him go, the girls talking about something I didn't hear because I was distracted by all the not looking. Then he was gone, and I felt lighter, yet more grounded. I felt more like myself.

We got the jam and then headed toward home. On the walk, Citra flicked through images on her phone.

She caught me glancing at the screen over her shoulder.

She turned the phone to me and said, "This is your new profile picture."

The image was me, back arched, face red, mid-gag, the rabbit's ear brushing my nose.

I pressed my lips together. The more I told her I hated it, the more she'd zoom the picture in to accentuate my horror.

"That's what you want to look at when I call you?" I asked.

"Yep."

"I don't like it," Ivy said.

"But the memories," Citra told her.

"It was funny when Bunbuns pooped on her," Ivy said. "That'll be a great memory."

I took a long, deep breath, grateful to reach our driveway, then proceeded to unlock the front door.

As I crossed the threshold, a weird sensation rippled across my skin—itching and tingling, cold and clammy.

"I need a nap," I said.

Citra rolled her eyes. "I'm never getting old. It turns regular people into giant babies."

Great, thanks. "I'm forty-three."

"Like I said, old." She pulled out her phone and headed toward her room.

The itching grew more intense. It was all I could do not to tear my nails across my skin. Maybe it wasn't a nap I needed, but a shower. Pollen could make skin tingly and itchy. So could animal dander.

"Can I play with clay?" Ivy clasped her hands together and beamed up at me with her big brown eyes and megawatt smile. "I want to make my own Bunbuns to keep forever."

"Sure," I said. "That sounds like a great idea."

She skipped off, wild black curls bouncing over her shoulders.

I headed to my bedroom and shut the door behind me. I glanced at my phone and found twenty-three new texts from Chet, who knew better than to bother me on the weekend.

I made it two steps toward the bed before an electric shock rippled through my veins.

My muscles tensed, freezing me in place. All the air in my lungs whooshed out.

My legs dropped out from under me.

It happened so fast I tried to put my arms out to catch myself, but my mind went blank and then, as the floor approached, I could swear I didn't have arms at all.

I had fluffy tan nubs.

That made zero sense.

I didn't land with a crash. Instead, it was more like I'd sat down super quickly, like I hadn't fallen at all. But I did seem to somehow have tangled my shirt up and over my head.

I shook the fabric off my head, took a breath, and looked down at my hands. There were no hands, only nubs, which still didn't register in my brain as a real possibility. None of this could really be happening.

I looked at the standing mirror by the wall.

There was no me in the mirror.

In the reflection, a fluffy bunny stared back at me. It had fur the same shade of dirty blond as my hair was meant to be.

Shock rippled through me, a silent scream that vibrated through every cell. My vision blurred. A strange bubbling sound filled my ears, like I was gasping for breath as I drowned.

The world went black.