By the glory of God or whoever the fuck put me on this earth, I even make it through a shopping trip with Cara for a date-night outfit.
Now I just need to get through this date with my favorite five-year-old first.
“You’re doing it wrong,” the small voice beside me whispers.
“Shit,” I mutter as the tiny pink elastic I’m trying to loop around a hook snaps, ricocheting through the air. My gaze shifts to Lily, and I cringe. “I mean, crap. Poop. Pooh? Ahhh.” I rub a hand across my mouth. “Darn it.”
Lily snickers, taking the tiny loom needle from my hands. She hooks another bright elastic on the loom and starts effortlessly working it with the needle. “See? It’s like this.”
I look down at my hands. “My hands are too big. They’re ogre hands.”
She shakes her head, hiding her smile as she keeps working. “I don’t think so. Ogres are scary.” Big brown eyes lift to mine. “You’re not that scary.”
Four simple words shouldn’t make my heart beat a little faster, but they do. I’ve been volunteering at Second Chance Home for a few years now, spending time with the kids that walk through the door, in need of some extra love, the same way I was, way back when I was Lily’s age.
Lily arrived at the home four months ago. She used to cry when she saw me, and as much as it broke my heart, I gave her the space she needed. Being in the off-season and one of only two single friends in our group means I’ve been spending a lot of time here recently. Maybe she got used to me being around, because a month ago, Lily sat down at the end of the couch I was sitting on and stared at the cover of the book she’d brought with her. I asked her if I could read it to her, and she stared at me for a whole minute before slowly sliding closer, pushing the book between us. Wherever You Are My Love Will Find You, by Nancy Tillman. Now we read it at every visit.
Progress is progress, no matter how slow.
I hope that’s how she feels about teaching me how to make Rainbow Loom bracelets, because this shit has been a two-week affair, and it’s not going well. I understand the process, I just can’t get my giant fingers to work on something so tiny.
Lily hands me back the needle and tucks her chestnut hair behind her ear. “Here. Now you try again, but go slow.”
“Slow. Got it.”
We work on our bracelets side by side without a word. I don’t mind the silence with her. Every quiet inch she’s given me has always been more than enough.
I look up as a door opens and a little boy comes tearing out of it, heading for the blocks on the floor. Emily, a good friend of Garrett and Jennie’s and their old neighbor, steps out of the room behind him. She shifts a pair of dark-framed glasses up her nose and smiles when she sees me.
“Is today the day Mr. Lockwood finally finishes his first Rainbow Loom?” She crouches down and nudges Lily. “About time, am I right?”
Lily giggles. “He’s still learning, but he’s doing great.” She sets her tools down and wraps her arms around Emily’s waist, squeezing. “Hi, Miss Emily. Are we gonna talk today?”
“We absolutely are, honey. I have time for you right now, but if you’re busy with Adam—”
“No!” She grabs a clasp and starts hooking it into the elastic. “I’m done!”
“Aw, man,” I whine. “Mine’s too short still.”
Lily leans over, examining the length of my bracelet. She looks down at hers and chews her lip. Then she hands me a clasp. “Do you remember how to finish it?”
“I think so.” I attach the tiny clasp the same way I’ve seen Lily do it a hundred times, then pull my tiny bracelet off the loom and frown. “It’s way too small.”
Lily takes the bracelet from me and slips it on her wrist, then gently takes my hand in hers and slips her bracelet on my wrist. “I’m a little faster, so mine is longer. We can swap. Now you can think of me when you wear my bracelet, and I’ll think of you too.”
Something thick catches in the back of my throat, and I struggle to swallow it down. “Thanks, Lil.”
“I’ll go wait in your room,” she tells Emily, then casts me a shy glance. “Bye, Adam.”
She runs across the room and disappears before I can say good-bye, and I climb to my feet, packing up the loom.
“You’re growing on her, huh?” Emily observes.
“She’s the sweetest kid ever.”
Emily smiles, but it’s sad and a little far off. As a child psychologist who works with the kids here, she knows a lot more about them and their lives than I do. I don’t want to be blind to the reason some of them are here, but I’m not sure I could stomach all of them either.
“She’s a very strong little lady.” She shakes the thought away and smiles. “Heard you have a date tonight. Jennie says you really like this girl.”
“I do. I think. I mean, so far. Yeah. I do.”
Her eyes gleam as they roam over me, as I shove my fingers through my hair and tug at my clothes. “My God, Jennie was right. You are a hot mess right now, aren’t you?”
I sigh. “I’m not proud of it.”
“Holy fucknuts.” She grips my hand as the front door opens and my coach strolls in. “Who’s that?”
“Davis.”
“Davis who? I’ve never seen him before.”
“He’s my coach. He visits with the kids here and there.”
“Mmm…” She traces her lower lip with her fingernail, eyes blazing. “Single?”
“Recently divorced.”
“Fuck yeah. Right up my alley.”
“His daughter is cute as hell too.”
“Daughter?” Her arms fall with her deflating sigh. “Ugh, gross. Kids.”
I arch a brow, gesturing at all the kids, the ones she works with for free in her spare time.
“I get to give these ones back, Adam. I’m not interested in keeping one full time.”
The door to her office opens and Lily pokes her head out, eyes wide. “Emily? Are you still here?”
“Coming, honey!” She bumps my hip with hers. “Have fun on your date, Casanova. Don’t forget to bring flowers and dessert. Chicks love that shit.” She winks at me as she backs away, holding a hand up between the side of her face and the rest of the room. “They also love being dessert.”
As if I’m taking any advice from Emily.
Okay, I’m taking a little advice from her.
About the dessert. Bringing one, not making Rosie mine. One day, maybe, but—no . No, Adam. Focus.
I tuck the freshly baked cookies and chocolate-covered strawberries into my picnic basket and set it by the front door, next to the bright bouquet of pink, orange, and yellow peonies I picked up earlier. I slip my shoes on, clip Bear’s leash on, and open the front door.
Then I slam it again.
Bear looks up at me, head cocked as if to say, “What the fuck, dude?”
I run to the bathroom, flick on the light, and stare at my reflection.
My curls have been tamed, my face freshly shaved, my teeth brushed threes time just in case, and my outfit is on point, thanks to Cara. I smooth my shirt down, pat my hair, and look to Bear.