Then Olive’s voice whispered from her room, “Mommy…”
The spell broke. I stepped back, the air between us cooling instantly. Seth cleared his throat, pushing a hand through his hair.
“She’s calling you,” he said, in a low voice.
“Yeah.” I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Guess I should go.”
As I turned toward the door, he spoke again, barely above a whisper. “Madison.”
I looked back.
His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried a weight that made my stomach twist. “You should probably stop looking at me like that.”
I wanted to laugh, to throw something, to do anything except stand there feeling every nerve in my body respond.
“Right,” I said, forcing a steady breath. “I’ll work on that.”
He walked to the front door and lifted the tarp again. “I will be by at six to grab you. Coffee first. Then the adjuster.”
“You always run mornings like a military operation?” I asked. It came out lighter than I felt.
“It keeps things from falling through cracks.” He hesitated. “You can text if you need anything. I keep my phone on the nightstand.”
“I will not.”
“You can.”
He reached for the knob. I stopped him with his name. “Seth.”
He looked back.
“Thank you for coming to the shop,” I said. “For not making it weird. For letting her call you what she wanted.”
He gave a small nod. “It was not weird.”
“It was a little weird.”
A single huff of a laugh escaped him. “Maybe. But not bad.”
I stood there after the door shut, listening to the quiet settle again. The guesthouse felt less like a stage set now. The coffee rings on the counter were mine. The basil on the porch was missing a few stems. A pair of tiny rainbow socks had been abandoned by the couch like flags left after a celebration. It looked lived in and cozy, and not just for a night.
I soothed Olive back to sleep, her little mind woken from a bad dream. Then I headed to the kitchen and washed the two plates and the one fork that Olive had abandoned in favor of using her fingers. I stood in the middle of the living room and let my shoulders slide down away from my ears.
I heard Olive murmuring in her sleep as she turned over. I went to her door and watched her for a minute, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the curl of fingers around Bunny’s ear. My brave girl. Our brave little life.
When I finally switched off the lamp, the guesthouse slipped into blue shadow. Across the lawn, a single light glowed behinda second-story window in the main house. I stared at it longer than I intended. I told myself it was a habit. I told myself it was caution. I told myself many practical things.
The truth was simpler. It felt good to know someone else was awake on the other side of the grass, making lists, drawing straight lines, and promising dawn would bring a plan.
I climbed into bed and closed my eyes. Sleep did not claim me for a while, but when it came, it was as clean as the breeze that slipped through the open window. Somewhere in the first soft drift of dreaming, a snapshot formed. A little yellow house, whole again. A girl in rain boots, stomping puddles in the sunshine. A man in a tired T-shirt was handing me a mug and making a face at the basil I had put on eggs because he secretly liked it that way.
Not a love story yet. Not a neat ending. Just the feeling of a page that had turned, and the quiet certainty that I was not the only one holding the book.
Chapter 20
Seth
The morning started earlier than usual, even for me.
