Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

I should have picked something up for dinner. Then we could have eaten a proper meal before Citra's soccer game instead of only having snacks in the car on the way. I wouldn't have needed to vacuum out the crumbs or wipe down greasy finger smudges immediately afterward. We also wouldn't be approaching eight-thirty on a Tuesday night—a school night—with empty stomachs and hangry attitudes.

At the table, Citra scowled down at her math homework and dug into the page with her pencil with a violent intensity that made me flinch. She was going to scratch straight through that paper and dig a trench into the wood.

"I'll help you with that after dinner," I called to her.

"Are you talking to me?" Ivy appeared out of nowhere, wearing a headband with two long pointed construction paper ears taped to the top.

"Not at the moment, Ivy," I said.

"Are you talking to me, Daisy?" Erika asked, through the phone propped against the knife block, on the video call I definitely should have postponed for the umpteenth time.

Erika, Tess, and I had met in college and immediately became the best of friends. For a few years after graduation, we still talked almost every day. Twenty-ish years later, we were still close, but there was always something impeding our supposed-to-be weekly calls.

"I'm talking to Citra," I said.

"I don't need help," Citra growled through gritted teeth.

I knew it wasn't anger at me, but anger at the math. Still, my heart dropped an inch or two, just as it did every time she was upset and I couldn't fix all of her problems with a snuggle the way I used to.

Erika's expression had sheesh written all over it, plus a dash of compassion, because she knew exactly what it was like to raise a surly tween.

"All right," I said in a calm, even tone, despite the frazzled feeling squirming and squeezing in my belly.

"Why don't we try this again another day," Erika said.

"No," I said, "It's been a month. We're supposed to do weekly calls."

"You, me, and Tess," Erika said.

"And she's busy with her new mystery job, I know. I'm here though, and you have my full?—"

Ivy screeched at an ear piercing, heart-attack inducing volume.

A second later, a crash followed.

Three plates clattered the tile floor. Sharp ceramic shards scattered in every direction.

"Okay, you'll have my full- ish attention after I deal with that," I told Erika before rushing over to whisk Ivy away from the shattered dishes.

"How am I supposed to work in these conditions?" Citra threw her hands in the air. "I need to go to my room."

"No," I said. "Homework is always at the table."

"You don't think I'll do it?" Her voice was full of vitriol.

"I know you'll do the work," I said, trying my best to keep my own voice neutral. "But it's important to be here in case you need help."

"I don't need help."

"Well it's what we do, house rules."

Under her breath, she added, "It's a stupid rule."

I deflated as I gathered the broken ceramic and deposited it into the trash. Then I went back over the area with a damp paper towel three times to catch any straggling shards, and then again to scrub a particularly stubborn and mysterious brown spot until it disappeared. Life had to give me a break at some point, right?

"It gets easier," Erika said, as if reading my thoughts. "Ish. Well, it gets different."

I chuckled. "You should have quit your pep talk before adding the last bit."

"I can't lie to you," Erika said. "Who knows, maybe teenage girls will be easier than teen boys."

"Ha," I said.

"At least the smells will be better," Erika said. "What exactly is it that makes teenage boys smell like rotting goat cheese?"

Citra looked mortified. Ivy looked positively delighted.

I laughed.

"Boys always smell," Ivy said from the edge of the carpet where I'd deposited her.

"Where are your boys tonight?" I asked Erika.

"With their dad," she said, like it didn't bother her.

I knew it did, even if I couldn't hear any tightness in her tone. I felt the ache in my own heart. I'd never met two people who seemed so meant to be as Erika and Carson did but still couldn't make their marriage work.

It crushed her every day that passed that her boys weren't with her, and I had a feeling that extended to their father, too. She spent all of her free hours working overtime at her reporter job, which seemed to be her preferred coping mechanism.

My brother's name and number popped up over Erika's face. I ignored Davey's call.

"Tell me about you," Erika said. "How is the podcast going? Anything exciting going on?"

"The podcast is the same," I said.

"So the forty-something-year-old men "—Erika air quoted the word—"you babysit all day are still behaving like middle schoolers."

"Yes. Sometimes, when I'm really lucky, they behave like toddlers," I said.

Erika barked a laugh.

"But it's steady," I said. "I booked them a whale of a guest host for tomorrow, which should draw in a fresh round of sponsorships."

"Why is it that we call the big timers whales and goats nowadays?" Erika scrunched up her nose.

"I think whale's an old term. Moby Dick style," I said. "And GOAT is an acronym."

"Adam called me a goat yesterday. Not the greatest of all time kind, either." Erika's voice took on a wistful quality. "I miss my boys."

"I know. I'm sorry. It sucks."

"It does suck."

"Do you have a good book to help get you through the week?"

"You know it." She flashed me a glass of wine and a copy of the women's fiction novel I'd mailed her last week.

"Nice choice."

A bubble popped in the saucepan, spraying thick tomato droplets all over the stove.

"It comes highly recommended," Erika said. "I need this distraction. Tell me something else that's new. How's Hot Voice Neighbor?"

Citra snapped her attention to me again.

"I don't date, so there's no reason to discuss men." I licked my lips, scrubbed the stove splatter before it could stain, and immediately changed the subject. "I had the weirdest dream the other day. I dreamed I turned into a rabbit."

"Dreams are weird," Erika said.

"That wasn't a dream." Ivy ran her hands up the paper ears on her head band. "Mama's a magic bunny. One day, I will be, too."

"No you won't," Citra said. "You have to actually be related to inherit stuff."

My heart shot up into my throat and I twisted to catch Ivy's reaction.

Her lip quivered.

"We are a family," I said. "I love you both with every fiber of my being. If anything, our bond is even more special because I chose you."

Citra rolled her eyes.

"Out of all the kids in the whole world, I wanted you two," I said.

Ivy's eyes glossed over with a watery sheen.

I stepped forward to scoop her into my arms, prove how much I loved her with a shower of kisses and the biggest of bear hugs.

Before I could take a second step, her voice came out an octave higher as she said, "I'm not going to be a bunny?"

I froze. That's the part she was upset about? Not the reminder about how adoption made us different from a "traditional" family? I wasn't sure if I should feel relief or deeper concern.

I said, "No one is a bunny."

Ivy balled her fists. "You are."

"People don't turn into animals," I said.

"You did," Ivy insisted.

"It was just a dream," I said.

"I saw it, too," Citra said, without a hint of humor.

My heart skipped a beat, then pounded double time.

They were messing with me, or at least Citra was...it was the only thing that made any sense. Ivy must have been confused. Maybe she'd dreamed I was a rabbit, too.

"Oh, look at that, dinner's ready," I said, without checking if anything had actually finished cooking.

I said goodbye to Erika, with us both promising to talk again soon. Then the rest of the evening flew by in the usual way. I fielded texts and phone calls from work. Citra eventually let me try to help with her homework, to questionable success. I had to watch videos to figure out middle school level basics, with eye rolls from Citra when I suggested that math was different now than it was when I was a kid.

At least the school year was almost at an end. While summer would bring its own challenges, at least none of them involved algebra.

Everyone showered, and eventually, after around ten billion bathroom breaks and water requests, plus one elaborate story-telling session from me, Citra and Ivy were both settled into their beds with the lights out. I knew Citra was probably sneaking a read by nightlight, but I wasn't going to begrudge her the guilty pleasure I myself was about to indulge in.

I settled down into my favorite spot—a cozy reading chair out back. Crickets chirped and the fairy lights crossing overhead cast a soft glow. I opened my book and let myself drift into a world where romance reigned and the happily ever after was guaranteed.

"Can't sleep?" a deep voice asked from the other side of the fence.

Hugo. We hadn't spoken since the awkward farmer's market encounter three days ago. Here, though, there was darkness all around us, and the safety of wooden slats between us. Here, running into him was a welcome and pleasant surprise.

"No sleep for me until I get my late-night fix." I felt my lips pull into a wide smile.

It hit me as soon as the words left my mouth that he might not know if I meant reading my romance book or my time chatting with him. I guessed I wasn't too sure which I meant either.

I said, "I'm guessing you can't sleep either?"

He was only ever out here on his nights off, unable to sleep because of his fluctuating schedule at the fire station.

"This crossword puzzle won't do itself," he said.

"Ah. No way could that wait until morning."

"It's very serious business. You wouldn't happen to know what many celebrities' popularity does over time that mimics a satellite, would you?"

"How many letters?"

"Four."

I took a moment to consider. "Wane."

"That works. How did you know?"

"The moon is the earth's satellite. It waxes, and it wanes. Celebrities can't stay in the spotlight forever. Unless of course they're Beyoncé or Keanu Reeves."

He chuckled, deep and warm. "I adore your beautiful brain, Daisy Walsh."

His compliment landed like a spark in dry grass, igniting a warmth in my middle. I told myself not to read into his words— adore , beautiful . He probably didn't mean anything by it, nothing beyond appreciation for the answer I offered for his puzzle. It was dangerous to let myself get swept away.

Not only was my life too-full for this to be anything more than friendly chat between neighbors, I was pretty sure I'd seen a woman coming and going from his place often enough to suspect she lived there.

I blinked up at the stars and tried to ignore the flutter in my chest as his words repeated in my head.

"You can't last name me, Hugo," I said. "It's not fair. You never told me what yours is."

"It's Blaze."

I barked a laugh, then snapped my hand over my mouth.

"You can laugh. It's fine."

"I mean, you're a firefighter, and your last name is Blaze?"

"It's spelled B-L-A-I-S, but yes, I know."

I moved my book from where it sat open on my chest to the chair beside me.

"Am I keeping you from your reading?" he asked.

He must have heard the pages shuffle.

"Nah," I said. These conversations were a more personal fantasy anyway, one that I couldn't seem to resist indulging in. "It was an exceptionally boring part anyway."

It wasn't really. It was one of the best parts—the first kiss. I certainly wouldn't tell Hot Neighbor that.

"Lucky me," he said. "Did the girls enjoy the cookies?"

"Definitely. They devoured them." I'd snuck one for myself, too. "That was super sweet of you to give your treat to us on Saturday. Thank you again."

"You're welcome. It was great to finally meet the three of you in person. Your girls seem spirited."

Ha. "That's one way of putting it."

"How about fun ? Is that better?"

"Well, they are. They're a handful, too. I always knew I wanted to be a mom, so when it didn't end up happening the traditional way, I decided to do it on my own and adopt. People—including my mother—told me that it was a mistake."

Mostly it was my mother.

She'd told me not to focus so much on my career or I'd scare men away. She'd told me that no man would want a woman who had kids that weren't his. She'd thought she was helping me.

But I was never willing to give up what I wanted most.

Finding a man never came high enough on my priority list to change my plans. If engineering my life in a way that felt true to myself meant I was destined to be alone, so be it. I was never alone anyway, not with Citra and Ivy in my life.

But why was I telling Hugo this? Why was I telling him any of this?

Before he had a chance to comment, I needed to change the subject. "Best decision of my life, though. How about you, do you have kids?"

"No. I thought I would, but it never quite worked out."

His wife or girlfriend didn't want kids? That was a totally fine choice, but had to suck for Hugo if he felt like he was missing out. And being tied down meant he didn't get to make the choice I had.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.

Kids were tough, exhausting, and sometimes so frustrating that I thought I wouldn't make it through in one piece. But the love and the joy that they brought into my life made it all worthwhile.

I hoped Hugo was happy with the life and family he'd chosen, too.

"Hugo," a woman's voice called.

I sank lower into my seat.

"I've got to go. Nice to hear you again, Daisy."

And with that, Hugo left. And I was left feeling hot and bothered and guilty. Ugh.