Page 149 of Love Felt Like This

Her brain is always churning. I love seeing it work in real time, with her lips pursed to the side and her hands resting on her hips. She’s always determined. It’s what I like most about her. But it also makes our situation complicated.

Beverly doesn’t find what she needs in this aisle, so she keeps walking. Before turning the corner, she reaches out and squeezes my fingers. The gentle touch sizzles up my arm.

She’s so subtle with her touches, as if she’s testing the waters every time. I wish we had more time to test them all.

We’re less than a few weeks until she has to pitch, and I’ll be heading back at the same time. I have an album to record. An international three-month tour. But I’d be happy spending all three months in this craft store with her instead.

“What does your schedule normally look like?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“When you’re back in LA working on a show.” She wears her expressions so obviously. I know she’s considering the alternative—not having a show—so I add: “When you get the show.”

She squints at me—a simple I know what you’re doing—but continues anyway.

“Well, when we used to film…they were pretty long days. And if you’re not filming, you’re writing, and if you’re not writing, you’re finding side gigs…” Her voice fades, and she shrugs it off. “What about you?”

“Recording. Touring. Interviews.” Not much better.

“Oh wow, you love those!” she teases.

I snort, but it doesn’t make that ball of nerves in my chest dissipate.

Our lives are too complicated.

We’re an impossibility.

We enter an aisle with rows of stickers. Beverly gasps, practically skipping over to grab a small sheet with cats that look very similar to Steak.

“Ava’d love this,” she says.

I smile.

God, what do I do when we can’t be together? What will Ava do? She already lost Robin. Would this be like losing someone else?

“She would,” I say. “Her favorite color is purple. Do they have another in purple?”

Beverly hops over to grab another one, with sparkly purple cats instead, and adds it to the existing sheet.

“She can have two.”

“She’ll love it,” I say.

Beverly tilts her head to the side. “You’re a good dad, you know.”

I shrug. “I’m all right.”

“No, you’re great.” She takes a step closer, reaching up to tug the end of my hair. I stiffen. She’s getting bolder. I want more of it. “A really great dad, Griffin. You know little things about her that some parents overlook. Ava’s lucky to have you.”

I wonder if she’s right. Would Robin be proud?

Beverly pulls at my hair and nods, as if she could read my thoughts.

Damn, I like her.

I like her furry purple coat and her little boots that kick up at the checkout counter when she leans over it to grab our plastic bag full of supplies. I like her laugh when she runs back to the SUV so she doesn’t have to stay in the cold too long. I like that she reaches across the center console to pop open my door before I get there.

We journey back up the mountain, winding beside the three-brick establishment that makes up Elk Grove, past the diner lined with families and couples. By the window, I swear I spot Greg sitting across from Daisy. I eye Beverly. She exchanges a look that says she saw it too.