He shook his head and swallowed hard. “I adored her.” He sucked in a breath before continuing. “My mom is the same way, ya know? Soft and kind and loving. That’s where Monica got it from. But my mom never really stood up to Dad. After Luna was born, Monica was always saying how she wanted to raise her kids in a haven—a place that protected them from all the hard stuff out in the real world. I want to prove her right for choosing me, so that’s what I’m trying to do for Luna. Give her a home that’s soft and safe. When I’m not sure how, I ask myself, what would Monica say right now? And that helps.”
When he looked up at me, his dark eyes shone with reverence. “It’s amazing, sometimes I know exactly what she would say to Luna when she has a hard day, like I can hear Monica say it in my head. Is that strange?”
My body moved a millimeter closer to him, all on its own. “No. You knew her and loved her. Her personality lives on in your mind.”
“I like that.” His voice was soft. I could tell how hard he was trying not to get choked up. I wished he wouldn’t. “She’d have loved that you used Broadway music to pull her out of a funk.”
I smiled at that, and feelings I refused to name flooded my chest. This smart, handsome, strong, successful man who exuded strength and confidence from every pore was putting so much pressure on himself to be a perfect dad. No wonder he was stressed out today.
I wished I could tell him I was sure he was proving his sister right, that I was positive she’d be so happy to see how he was with her daughter. But I didn’t know her, so it felt strange to put words in her mouth. Instead, I said the closest thing I could think of. “You’re doing it, Luke. Luna is so well-adjusted, and she’s the sweetest kid but also so full of personality. This homeisa haven.” It’d been a haven to me, too, somehow.
He raised his glassy, brown eyes to mine. “You think so?”
I grabbed his forearm and squeezed lightly. “Yes. You are doing anincrediblejob.” I said it again because apparently not even his parents told him this as often as he deserved. I’d said the same thing on Friday, but that was an eternity ago, before I understood the depth of the responsibility he felt.
He nodded and swallowed. When his eyes met mine again, they were full of an emotion I couldn’t quite place. He shook his head slightly. “Thanks, Val. That means…” His low voice cut off, like he was struggling to come up with the words.
“I know.” I rubbed my thumb over his forearm and let go. It felt wrong to let go when all I wanted to do was hug him, wrap my body around his and absorb some of the emotional weight he was carrying. But that wasn’t the kind of relationship we had, so I just sat there and let him collect himself before he walkedme out, as always.
“Okay,” I said aloud to myself when I stepped into Luke’s house the next day. “I have four hours to get the guest room ready, clean two bathrooms, tidy, vacuum, dust the entire downstairs, and scrub every inch of this kitchen until it gleams.” I blew out my breath in a huff. “I can do this.”
Instead of going to the gym, I’d biked back to the house. The deep cerulean blue bulbs of the hydrangea bushes that greeted me when I pulled up were photo-worthy perfection, and the lawn looked freshly mowed, so I was focusing on the inside.
I took the steps two at a time, headed for the laundry closet. I was sure Luke’s parents were good people, but right now, I had an ax to grind with them. By the time I was done today, they would not find one damn thing to critique about this beautiful home. He told me not to, and it wasn’t part of my job description, and I would likely be sacrificing a day of writing to do this, but none of that would stop me. I wanted to do this for him, and I refused to question my motivations beyond that.
The dryer was full and so was the washing machine.Luke must have put these in this morning. I grabbed an empty basket from the bathroom and pulled the clean, dry clothing out of the dryer: men’s T-shirts, socks, golf shorts, and…soft, black boxer briefs.Dammit, these are all Luke’s.I reached deeper into the dryer’s barrel and started pulling the clothes out even faster, in big armfuls.
Do not go through his laundry, and whatever you do, do not picture him in those black boxer briefs, you weirdo.
Pulling my lip in between my teeth, I spun around in the hallway, itching to put this basket away somewhere. I made for Luke’s room at the end of the hall, vowing to toss the basket in there and close the door.
Except I’d never gone in his room before, and I couldn’t help but take inventory when I crossed the carpeted threshold. A king-sized, black wooden-framed bed held court in the center of the room, flanked by matching nightstands. The only decorations were some framed photos on the dressers and nightstands. Two stacks of parenting books—edges turned up, bindings creased—stood in piles on the floor next to the bed. As I bent to place the basket by the bigger dresser, the picture on top caught my eye. A couple stared lovingly at the brown-haired baby they’re holding between them. It had to be his sister Monica and her husband with a baby Luna. Monica was as beautiful as Luke is handsome.
I pivoted and closed the gap between me and the hallway in an instant, swallowing the lump in my throat before closing the door.
I found the vacuum in the front-facing office downstairs, which contained more boxes than furniture and appeared to be used primarily as storage right now. By the time I left to get Luna for lunch, I’d finished vacuuming upstairs and was nearly done cleaning the upstairs bathroom. We had grilled cheese sandwiches at a place in town, and I dropped her at the sailing center with her instructors a little early.
When I returned and went back upstairs to put the dry, clean sheets on the guest bed, I walked into a small bedroom Luke clearly used as his actual home office by accident. A large desk with two big monitors and a few file cabinets lined the wall, leaving just enough room for a rolling chair. Above the desk hung two diplomas: a bachelor’s degree from Franklin & Marshall and an MBA from Southern New Hampshire University. A little surge of pride filled me before I closed the door and located the real guest bedroom.
My arms tingled with fatigue as I wiped down the kitchen island. My phone buzzed in my back pocket.
Max
Finished work early today. Want to hang out?
What he meant was: did I want to come over for an afternoon hookup before I picked up Luna? We’d done it once before.But I still need to vacuum the whole downstairs. I had no interest in leaving this task unfinished, but how could I explain that I couldn’t come over because, despite being told not to, I had to help Luke clean his house before his parents arrived, so he wouldn’t crumble under the weight of thepressure he puts on himself? I slid my phone back into my pocket and didn’t respond until an hour later, when it would be too late to go over anyway.
Val
Sorry I can’t today, raincheck? ;)
Five minutes before I had to go get Luna, I collapsed on the couch. The house had the faint scent of lemon cleaning spray and Pine-Sol, and there were no dust bunnies or dirt in sight. A sigh released from my chest as I sank further into the worn leather cushions, not daring to close my eyes. Cleaning a whole house is a lot more work than going to the gym, and I was a disheveled mess, but the house was above reproach. Mission accomplished.
I bribed Luna to go to the grocery store with me after sailing by telling her she could pick out three things she wanted. We filled a cart with burgers, hot dogs, chicken, salmon, cheese, buns, salad, berries and other fruits, vegetables, hummus, chips, and breakfast items—everything they could possibly need to host his parents for a few days. Luna’s selection was not one, not two, butthreeboxes of sugary cereal. I laughed when she dropped them in the cart.
“You said three!” she insisted, eyes narrowed.
“I know. That’s why I didn’t say anything.” I patted her head. This girl was good at finding a loophole.
