With all the ingredients laid out, he plugs his kettle in, picks his beer back up and steps toward me. He holds his glass up in salute.
“What are we celebrating?” I ask.
“How about old friendships,” he says, bending to tap his glass to mine. I try not to notice his closeness or the way it overwhelms me. For a brief second I consider his overprotective nature. Brad might think twice about harassing me if Callan was by my side. Yeah, Brad would probably tuck tail and run the other way—bully that he is. Not that I’m about to ask Callan to come to the Cape for the weekend, or pretend to be my boyfriend for the duration. That’s completely ludicrous, right?
Or is it?
3
Callan
“Okay, Liam, time to get you home,” I say after we all finish eating. I stand and take our plates to the sink.
Kaitlyn pouts. “I don’t want him to go.”
“You have to get packed for you grandparents, Kaitlyn, remember?” Her eyes light up. “But first we walk Liam home.”
Gemma wipes her mouth with the paper napkin, stands and brings a few more dishes to the counter. “I can stay here and help Kaitlyn get packed while you go.”
I hesitate for a second. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”
Too bad. I’d love to put out.
My God, who said that?
“I want Miss Davis to help me pack,” Kaitlyn says.
Gemma reaches for Kaitlyn’s hand and my heart twists in an odd little way as my daughter slides her hand into Gemma’s. “I really don’t mind.”
“Okay,” I say as Liam jumps from his chair.
“See you later, Kaitlyn,” he says, and walks to the door.
“You guys can hang out again when we get back,” I tell Liam as we leave the house. I walk two houses down, and he rushes inside. His mother pokes her head out.
“Thanks for having him for dinner,” Danielle says to me.
“No problem. He’s a great kid.” She has an odd little grin on her face. “Something wrong?” I ask.
“No, I just…well, Kaitlyn said Miss. Davis was having pizza with you guys.”
I nod. No hiding your business with a six-year-old. “Miss Davis, or rather Gemma, is an old friend of mine. We go way back.”
She leans against her doorway, like she’s in no hurry to leave and normally I’d spend a few minutes talking. Tonight however, I’m a little anxious to get back home and it’s not because I’ve left my daughter with someone new.
“I think that’s nice,” she says, and I stifle a groan. Cripes, come tomorrow morning I’m sure I’ll be the talk of the neighborhood.
“We’re just old friends,” I tell her.
“Well, you never know,” she says.
“What don’t I know?” I ask and wish I hadn’t.
Her smile is coy, and a bit hopeful. “What starts innocently enough…”
I hold my hand up to stop her. “Night, Danielle,” I say and turn. Having Gemma at the house has no doubt raised suspicions, considering I’ve not had a woman who wasn’t family, or a babysitter, or a firefighter at the house in...ever. Basically, I’ve not had a woman at the house that was there for me.
Whoa, what?
Gemma is not there for me, per se. We’re just old friends getting caught up and I wanted to spend more time with her after getting a bad feeling about her ex-boyfriend.
“Just think about it,” she calls after me and in my heart, I know she means well. The people in my neighborhood are kind and caring, always wanting to introduce me to their friends, or relatives, but my personal life is my own business and I plan to keep it that way.
Music seeps from the open windows and reaches my ears as I approach the house, and breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh as old memories come rushing back. I grip the paint-chipped handrail and hold for a second, the music taking me back to happier times—when Zoe was the one at that piano. Kaitlyn’s squeal of laugher rises over the music and wraps around my heart.
I suck in a fast breath and dart up the three steps. I round the corner and find Gemma and Kaitlyn at the piano. The sight stabs my heart. Gemma’s head lifts, and her smile falls from her face the second she sees me.
“Sorry, we got sidetracked.” She stands quickly. “I’ll help Kaitlyn pack and get going.”
I shake my head and put my hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Why don’t you two keep playing? I’ll pack Kaitlyn’s stuff.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” Kaitlyn yells out.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
She gives a small nod and tentatively sits down again. I dash up the stairs, and happy music fills the house and my soul as I pack my daughter’s bag and run the tub. I head back downstairs and find the two laughing as Gemma teaches her basic notes.
“All set for your bath kiddo.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You run up and have your bath,” Gemma says as she checks her watch, and I ignore the heavy feeling in my chest. “I have to get going anyway.”
“Give us a few minutes,” I say. “Her bath won’t take long. Why don’t you pour yourself a glass of wine, and flick the TV on? We haven’t really had a chance to catch up.”
She hesitates, a line in her forehead as Kaitlyn jumps up and dashes up the stairs. “I suppose.” She snorts out a humorless laugh. “I don’t really have to rush home for anything. It’s not a school night.”
“It’s settled then. Grab a beer or a wine, and I’ll just be a few minutes.”
I stand there for a second as she stands and saunters into the kitchen. The second she’s out of my sight, I hurry upstairs, and Kaitlyn is undressing for her bath.
“Daddy,” she begins as I help her into the warm water.
“Yeah.”
“I really like Miss Davis. She’s nice.”
“She is nice, isn’t she? Did you know that we used to go to school together? Many years ago.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Really?”
“Yup, just like you and Liam are in the same class, Miss Davis and I were too.”
“That’s funny.”
“I suppose it is.”
“Can she have dinner with us every night?”
“I don’t know about that. She has her own place and she has things to do.”
“I like that she’s going to be at the Boys and Girls club. She’s always nice to me.”
“That’s good to know.”
“I don’t like Mrs. Follows. She’s grumpy.”
I bite back a chuckle. There’s not a thing wrong with Mrs. Follows, she’s just older and is a little more regimented than the volunteer teachers at the club.
I give her a washcloth and she proceeds to clean herself. Once she’s finished soaping up, she rinses off and I wrap a big towel around her and lift her from the tub. She squeals as I hold her up over my head and fly her to her bed.
I make an airplane sound as I lower her to her bed, and she tugs on the pajamas I laid out for her.
Once she’s dressed, I read her a book, give her a kiss and leave her room. In the hall I take a big breath, and I can’t figure out why I’m suddenly nervous about the idea of spending alone time with Gemma.