“Daisy?” Jamie called from where he stood at the open driver’s door. One hand curved along the top of the roof, the other still lightly holding his things. “You good?”
His lips were parted; the same lips that had kissed me not once now, but twice. They were tilted up, too, as if he was celebrating the fact that he’d, once again, caught me off guard.
I ran my hand through my hair, pushing the red locks back out of my face, trying to ignore the strange beat of my heart. “Please,” I scoffed, starting toward my open car door, avoiding eye contact. “Never better.”
CHAPTER 10
Two emotions warred within me, each taking its turn at the top spot.
Excitement.
And, of course, dread.
“Happy first day of summer!” I cheered when the front door opened, and four little kids waddled their way inside. I had a party horn I’d gotten from the dollar store between my fingers and blew into it. It let out a pathetic little wail. “Yay!”
I expected a cheer in response, at least fromoneof them. Theo flinched at the sound of my loud voice, so sudden in the cramped entryway of our house, and Penn looked at me like I was the lamest person alive.
“The first day of summer isn’t technically until the twentieth,” Junie said, kicking off her shoes.
Penn, as Ivy dropped her backpack in the middle of the entryway, muttered, “It’s the twenty-first.”
“Nuh-uh. We learned it in school. The summer solis.”
“Solstice.” Penn brushed past me, already yanking off her tie. “Don’t be a know-it-all if you’re wrong.”
Junie stomped her foot. “I’m not wrong!”
I grabbed Theo’s hand and gave his arm a wiggle. “Look at you! All done with kindergarten. You’re growing up, kid!”
Theo giggled at the attention.
I picked up Ivy’s discarded backpack, kicking the kids’ shoes that they’d left in the walkway to line up against the wall, swallowing an inward sigh as I did so.It’s the first day of summer, I told myself, hooking Ivy’s backpack on a peg in the entryway.Give them a break.
I tried not to be a downer, but today was the day I’d been dreading since I’d opened my NYU portal on April 1st. The day that everything became infinitely harder, when they’d stop being away for eight hours of the day and home for all twenty-four.Myresponsibility for all twenty-four. But it was exciting forthem, and I wanted to make it special.
“So, what should we do to celebrate?” I asked the kids, trailing after them where they’d walked into the house.
“Ice cream!” Ivy said, grinning up at me. Her hair was loose and tangled, not in the braids she’d begged me to put in this morning. “We need ice cream to start summer off!”
“Can I get the Superman ice cream?” Theo asked.
Junie scrunched her nose. “You hate the Superman ice cream.”
Theo mimicked her, inching his little nose up. “Do not.”
“You just like how it looks.”
“Do not! I mean, I do, but I?—”
“Ice cream sounds good,” Penn interrupted, her eyes meeting mine over the littles’ heads. “But it’ll be busy. Everyone’s probably going for ice cream right after school.”
“So I guess we need to bide our time.” I slipped my hands into the pockets of my shorts and lifted my eyebrows. “How about… going to the park?”
Now, everyone but Penn let out a little cheer.
The kids raced upstairs to change out of their uniforms while I went to work packing a backpack of supplies, like sunscreen, snacks, juice boxes, and my sketchbook.
The kids hated the park closest to our house—which was understandable, since the only slide it had was metal and practically a frying pan in the sun—so we made the fifteen-minute trek to Biscayne Park’s community playground. The affluent neighborhood’s park was massive, with multiple custom wood climbing structures, rope bridges, monkey bars, and even a splash pad if kids brought swimsuits.
