38. Harper

“Kyle lives here?” Sam asked as we moved through the spinning doors and into the lobby of his high-rise.

“Yes, and we need to be on our best behavior, okay?” I said as I led him and Piper toward the elevator bank.

Wesley stood and rounded the big desk, headed our way. I braced to be told, like last time, that I needed to leave.

Instead, he gave me a warm smile. “Harper.”

“H-hi,” I stammered, shocked that he’d remember me. I’d only met him once, and that was weeks ago.

“You must be Piper and Sam,” he said, nodding at the kids. With his lips pressed together, he focused on me again. “Did you have trouble with parking?”

“Uh.” The whole encounter was the opposite of what I’d expected, so I was having trouble finding my bearings. “Cam dropped us off before he went to pick up dinner.”

“Ah. Okay. If you do drive over, buzz me at the garage entrance and let me know you’re here. You can park in the reserved spaces below. Makes it much easier, especially with the kids.”

“Thanks?” I said, though the word came out more like a question.

“I promise.” He pressed his hands together in a prayer pose. “I am at your service. We got off on the wrong foot. As I said, Kyle left out some important details. But now I know.” He beamed.

That sounded like Kyle. He didn’t always focus on specifics that, to others, mattered. Other times, he pushed his way into a person’s business until blatantly told he was crossing a line. But he’d been great about Piper’s therapy. He’d given me zero pushback about paying for it. In fact, he’d never brought it up again, which showed me he cared about my feelings.

“Come on. I’ll get you in the elevator.” Wesley led us over, and when the stainless-steel doors opened, he stepped inside too and flashed a key fob. Then he hit the button for the top floor and stepped out again. “Enjoy your night.”

“He smells,” Piper announced as soon as the door closed.

My heart sank. At least she’d waited until he was gone to make that statement.

“Not everyone thinks cologne smells bad,” I reminded her for the ten thousandth time.

When the elevator opened on the top floor, Kyle was in the foyer, waiting for us. “Hey, guys. Welcome to my house.”

“Why don’t you smell?” Piper asked, frowning.

He glanced at me for help with context.

“Cologne,” I mouthed.

“Oh.” He kneeled in front of Piper. “You know my brother? Ryan? He doesn’t like smells. Just like you.”

My daughter looked directly at him for one beat before she looked away.

“My mom always made sure everything was unscented,” Kyle continued. “I got used to not wearing it. So I still don’t.”

“I would like you to never smell,” Piper said, matter-of-fact, and walked past him. Don’t smell, end of conversation. If only she could always express her feelings that easily.

With a smile, I held out my hand to Kyle.

He took it and stood, then gave me a quick kiss before hurrying after the kids. Clearly, he was nervous about having them over for the first time. It would set a precedent for Piper. We’d talked about it, but if we were going to keep dating, then she had to get used to being here too. He’d been at our place enough.

“Since this is your first time here, I’ll give you a tour.” Kyle caught up to them as they gawked at his living room.

I stepped into the room too, and right away, the changes jumped out at me. Two of the barstools had been replaced with the kid-friendly climber stools that wouldn’t tip or flip easily. A pair of beanbag chairs with backs, like the kids had at home, sat in front of the television, and there was a small table and chair set in one corner. And that wasn’t it.

“This stuff over here.” Kyle waved at the area of the room with chairs and bookshelves. “Some of it’s breakable, so let’s try to avoid it. But this area.” He pointed at the shelves that last month had only housed a few Lego sets but was now stuffed full of toys. There was a huge rug designed like a city, with roads to drive cars on spread out in front of it, and to one side, a Lego table had been set up. “This area is where you can go wild.”

“This is so cool.” Sam darted for the red candy dispenser. It looked just like the kind of machines lined up at a grocery store.

“You bought that for them?” I asked, frowning.

Kyle was pretty careful with sweets. Although he indulged Sam a little, he kept to Piper’s diet strictly, so it seemed so odd.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he chuckled uncomfortably. “Actually, I already had those. I just had them moved.”

I shook my head. I should have guessed. The man did have a sweet tooth, and clearly, he had too much money to spend on frivolous things.

“One is filled with baseball M&M’s, but I swear it’s not all candy.” He tapped one compartment. “This one is gumballs.” He tapped a second. “And this one is full of those cool sticky hands that always get stuck on the ceiling.”

“I love those,” Sam announced, peeking through the machine’s glass. “Look. A blue one. Blue’s my favorite.”

“Me too,” Kyle agreed, his lips quirking up on one side. “And this one is light-up bouncy balls. When I did my practicum,” he said, “the, uh, internship before I got my master’s degree”—he ducked his head when he caught me watching him—“the woman I trained under had one for the kids she saw. She’d give them quarters on good days, and they could use them for prizes. They loved it, so I thought I’d get one when I open up my practice.”

“But rather than wait until then, you bought it right away,” I teased.

That sounded like Kyle. One hundred percent in on an idea once he decided he wanted to do it. It was one of many traits that made him so reliable.

“Where do I get quarters?” Sam asked, jumping up and down.

Kyle was watching Piper, who was rapidly blinking in the unfamiliar space, his hands still in his pockets, his face a mask of apprehension.

“We can grab some in a minute,” he said, making a point to focus solely on Sam for a moment. “I want to show you guys the rest of my place first.” Then he took a step closer to Piper. “Hey, Pipe, let me show you this area.” He walked down the hallway toward his room, but instead of going to the end, where the master was, he stopped at the first door. “Sam, you can check out the room across from this one.”

He opened the door and flipped on the light.

When the sight registered, I gasped. One quarter of the room was a replica of Piper’s bedroom at home. The bins at the end of her bed. The dresser with the flower drawer pulls. Even the white headboard with his poster above it, the baseball sheets, and the Boston Revs weighted blanket. The beanbag chair she loved was next to a bookshelf and a table.

“You set up a room here for her?” I asked, my chest so tight the words were barely audible.

Unlike me, Piper wasn’t shocked. No, she happily shuffled to her big beanbag and plopped onto it. Then she reached for the blue headphones that sat on the small table beside it. Once they were over her ears, she closed her eyes, and I swore she almost smiled. The rest of the space was set up like an occupational therapy room. A ball pit, a mini trampoline, mats in a variety of shapes, a big exercise ball, a marble wall, and some kind of rollers big enough for a child to crawl between. As well as a table and chairs that sat in the far corner.

“I want her to feel comfortable here.” He sighed. “I knew the differences between your place and mine would overwhelm her. This way.” He pointed to her in her beanbag chair. “She can ease her way into being at my house.”

I pressed my hand over my heart. “You’re?—”

“The lunatic you’ve been waiting for?” he asked with a hopeful lift to his lips.

Giggling, I kissed his cheek. “Something like that.”

“Mom, this is so cool,” Sam shouted. “Come here.”

Swallowing back my emotion, I stepped across the hall, where Sam was rushing down a slide from a bunked fort. This room was every boy’s dream. A full-on jungle gym, including a swing mounted to one wall. And the fort with the slide was actually a bed. He had a gaming area with chairs and another play zone with a rock-climbing wall.

“Jeez, Kyle. They’ll never want to leave now.”

He came up behind me and pulled me against his chest. “That’s what I’m hoping for. I want you all here as often as I can have you. Hell, if you moved in, I’d be thrilled.”

“Stop messing around.” Head lowered, I gave it a shake. “You can’t mean that.”

The main door slammed, interrupting our conversation. “I got food,” Cam called.

“Uncle Cam,” Sam shouted. “You gots to come see this.”

Cam appeared in the hall and peered around us.

“Did you know this was here?” Sam asked.

“In fact,” Cam said, grinning, “I helped Kyle build it.”

“Don’t worry,” Kyle assured me. “There were only a handful of extra pieces.”

I groaned. “You’re not funny.” I slipped out of his arms. “But I’m going to get the kids’ plates ready.”

“Hey, Kyle, can I have quarters to make the machine goes?” Sam asked.

“No candy until after dinner,” Kyle responded as I wandered to the kitchen. I’d only been here twice, and I’d yet to learn where he kept things, so it took some searching, but eventually, I found plates and cutlery, then got to work cutting up the grilled chicken for the kids. We’d never tried this Italian restaurant, but they offered plain gluten-free pasta and grilled chicken, so we were giving it a try. Hopefully Piper wouldn’t melt down over it. But if she did. Kyle had prepared for it.

Sam ran by, holding a quarter aloft, and a moment later, he darted back down the hall toward his room. Probably to climb or jump on something. But Kyle was watching.

Knowing he was always paying attention and thinking ahead took a ton of weight off my shoulders. And though his comment about moving in had been a joke, who knew what the future held. I stopped cutting for a moment and surveyed the space. I wasn’t sure I could picture making this my home. But it was easy to see a future that included Kyle.

Cam stepped up to the counter. “I’m going to grab my food and head to my room.”

“You don’t have to,” I assured him, a sliver of guilt working its way through me.

The smile he gave me was genuine and patient. “Honestly, I’m a lot like your daughter in that I need time to adjust to change. Kyle jumps in and expects everyone to ride the wave with him. And you’d think that after working for him for so many years, I’d be used to his chaos, but?—”

He was interrupted by a loud crash, followed by a shout. But no crying ensued, so I decided to let Kyle handle it.

Cam cleared his throat. “But I promise that in time, I’ll be used to it.”

I cringed. “Sorry. We are a lot.”

“But you’re the exact a lot that he needs.” With that, Cam pulled a takeout container from the bag and wandered away.

When another shout rang out, followed by the slamming of a door, I put the knife down, ready to investigate.

Before I made it to the hallway, Piper came flying out, with Kyle on her heels.

Her fists were by her face, and she was shaking. “You can’t. You can’t. You can’t,” she chanted.

“Hey, hey. Deep breath,” I reminded her.

“Sam got gum in her hair,” Kyle said sheepishly, his cheeks pink and his eyes wide. “I guess I wasn’t clear that gum is candy. They were in the ball pit. And somehow it got out of his mouth and into her hair.”

Stepping closer to Piper, yet careful not to touch her, I searched her red hair. It only took a moment to locate the sticky blue wad. I winced.

“This is on me,” Kyle said. “Why don’t you check on Sam? He feels awful. While you do that, I’ll try to handle the gum.”

My instinct was to tell him no. He was giving me the easier of the two tasks. But before I could get the word out, he grasped me by the upper arms and turned me so I was facing the hallway.

Resigned, I exhaled and headed off to find Sam. When I did, he was hiding in the corner of Piper’s room, his face wet with tears.

“Hey, bud.” I sat on the floor next to him. “So gum, huh?”

“It’s not allowed,” he whispered.

I shook my head. “Do you understand why now?”

He nodded, wrapping his arms around his knees and squeezing. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to try it. I got a blue one, and it was so big. And I got to chew and chew it.”

“Then it got stuck in Piper’s hair. And it probably hurts.”

He frowned, and another tear tracked down his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. You should probably apologize to Piper, though.”

“I tried.” He sniffed and pointed at a blue bin lying on its side on the floor. “She threw that at me. It hit my arm and gave me a red mark.” He pulled up his sleeve, his little lip quivering.

“Need me to kiss it?”

He nodded and held his arm out.

Leaning forward, I gave him a quick kiss.

“All better.” He smiled. “Can I go play again?”

“Will you apologize to Kyle for not listening and to Piper for getting gum in her hair once they get it out?”

Wiping at his face with the back of one hand, he nodded.

My heart squeezed at the sincerity in his expression. “Then okay.”

Without a word, he jumped up and raced back to his room. For a moment, I sat on the floor, taking in the room, marveling at Kyle’s thoughtfulness. But I didn’t stay long, knowing he may need my help.

In the living room, he and Piper sat calmly in the middle of the floor with a pair of scissors between them.

“So it will be just like cutting my nails?” Piper asked.

Kyle nodded, his face solemn.

“Okay.” She swallowed audibly and picked up the scissors.

My heart lurched. He was going to let her cut it out herself? Instantly, I wanted to intervene. To stop this. But I trusted him, and he’d yet to get things wrong with her. So I stayed where I was, though I couldn’t help but cringe.

Instead of cutting her own hair, though, something so much worse happened. Piper shifted forward on her knees and snipped a chunk of Kyle’s hair. Then she did it again.

I was frozen, heart in my throat, unable to breathe, as she went for a third snip.

And Kyle didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Kyle was incredibly weird about his hair. He didn’t even let most people touch it. And the fact that it now had two uneven chunks out of the right side and one on the left made me feel sick. It looked like he’d gotten into a fight with garden clippers.

“Omygod,” I whispered, my stomach bottoming out.

“My turn,” Kyle said calmly, holding out a hand.

Piper passed the scissors to him without argument, though her little body was rigid and her shoulders were practically at her ears as he lifted them.

But in two clips, the gum was out.

“All done,” he announced.

“Just like my nails,” she repeated.

“Yup,” he agreed with a nod and an encouraging smile.

“I want my room.”

“Ten minutes, and then we have to eat,” he warned with a cocked brow.

Nodding, she scrambled to her feet, and then she took off for her room.

“Kyle.” I finally forced his name out through my tight throat.

He turned to look at me, and all the blood drained from my face. Oh my God. It was so bad. So bad. He would never forgive us.