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I shouldn’t be nervous. Scout’s preschool graduation isn’t about me, not at all. I’m there because Scout requested it, and if I’m Luke’s fiancée, it only makes sense that I’d be there. No overthinking this. I’m arm candy. Basically a man purse.
Right?
Looking at myself in the full-length mirror in the guest room, I try to smooth the wrinkles from a linen midi dress I grabbed the last time I drove down to LA. It’s off-white with short sleeves, so I’ll fade into the background on Scout’s big day. He tried on his “move up” cap for me as soon as I arrived this morning.
Luke and I haven’t had a moment alone since that day in the stream. It’s probably just as well. Probably easier to go back to the “fake” relationship where we have boundaries and rules.
So why does it feel more real now? Why am I standing here thinking about what it would be like to stay in Willow Springs after the custody case wraps up?
Maybe because I’m wearing a dress and going to graduation. Like I’m a part of this family. Dangerous thoughts.
I turn and look over my shoulder to examine the other side of the dress, which has crisscross straps down the back, worried it’s too revealing for a preschool “moving up” ceremony, a fancy way of saying the kids will be starting their final year before kindergarten. It’s a chance for the parents to take pictures and commemorate a milestone. I know from watching Tessa and Fitz with Charlotte that even in the blur of diapers and teething, it all goes so fast. I don’t begrudge anyone the celebration of a milestone.
I decide that the dress is fine. My hair covers most of my back, so I put on a few long necklaces, fluff it, and check my makeup one more time.
When I get to the kitchen, I find Luke sitting alone with his coffee. It’s so rare to find him sitting still, but I know there’s probably a churn of concerns and to-do lists cycling through his brain.
If he looked one degree less handsome in his dark sport coat, maybe I’d have a snowball’s chance at resisting him, but he’s like dessert on a plate with my name on it.
In his crisp white shirt with his tanned skin visible at the open collar, he’s hotter than the midday sun. And like any good dessert, he looks edible. I may even drool a little.
“Howdy, Hottie Hot Cowboy,” I say, sliding into his lap. And then I freeze, realizing what I’ve done. No one is around to see this display of affection. It’s not a planned photo op before an “important family event.” It’s just me doing what feels completely natural after spending so much time with Luke, falling for him.
No, I tell myself. I haven’t fallen for him. Or if I have, I need to undo it. Not healthy. Not part of either of our plans.
Yet all I want to do right now is make out with the hottie hot cowboy, whose heart I can feel pounding beneath my hand.
Our eyes lock, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. No one around. One more stolen moment won’t hurt. His face inches forward. I smell his minty breath. I lean forward another inch. Our lips nearly touch, but then…
Scout comes bounding into the room. “It’s graduation day!”
Our faces jerk back, but I’m still sitting on Luke’s lap with his arm wrapped around my waist. I watch him for signs of confusion or discomfort. He’s supposed to spend a day with Elizabeth, and Luke told me it was the first time he expressed apprehension about going. I hope that doesn’t have anything to do with me confusing things for him.
His round eyes take us in for a moment, and then he promptly climbs up Luke’s legs and situates himself on my lap. “Callie sandwich!”
I marvel at the way Scout manages to defuse potentially awkward moments between Luke and me by being himself. He doesn’t analyze. Doesn’t question where things are going or what they mean. He takes everything at face value.
“I’m smushed like peanut butter and jelly,” I say. “You got me, Scout.”
He wriggles off the top of our sandwich, and I quickly unfold myself from Luke’s lap and move around the kitchen, rinsing out the coffee pot and putting dishes in the dishwasher. Behind me, I hear Luke push his seat back and shuttle Scout back to his room.
“Why, Daddy?”
“Because we have to finish getting ready.”
“I am ready,” Scout groans, his voice receding down the hallway.
I laugh when Luke gruffly protests, “Sure about that? You forgot your shoes.”
“Oh, boy,” Scout says. I can picture him looking down at his feet and noticing his mistake. It makes me realize I’ve already gotten to know this family and the everyday dynamics better than I should for someone who doesn’t have a real role here. I look down at my hands scrubbing dishes like I live here and check myself, vowing to drive back to LA for the weekend, or maybe longer, and get back to my regular life for a bit.
Drying my hands on a red-and-white dish towel, I walk into the living room, where I left my phone. I retrieve it from my purse and text Demi to make weekend plans if she’s free.
Demi:
Old phone, who dis?
Me:
