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“And?”
Apparently, small talk isn’t what she’s looking for.
“And I know that breaking up with her was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, and I want to make it up to her,” I divulge.
“Then, what? Let’s say you miraculously manage to win her back. Are you going to leave again?”
“What? Of course not, Skye––”
“Then, what? Tell me the plan.”
“I don’t have a”––I rub my hand across my face, the familiar sense of desperation settling into my bones––“plan.”
“Then, I’m not going to help you.”
My eyes widen. “You’re offering to help me?”
“I was thinking about it.” She looks down and starts picking at her trimmed nails as if she has all the time in the world and didn’t just blow mine up with a single sentence.
“You serious?” I rasp.
As she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, I can almost see the wheels churning in her head. The indecision that simmers just beneath the surface while she weighs the pros and cons of helping me out when we both know I don’t deserve it.
“Please,” I murmur, towering over her petite frame as I push away from the counter.
She purses her lips but holds my stare. “Saylor deserves to be happy after the hell you put her through. And even though I’ve been rooting against you since you broke up with her on our front porch, I’ve yet to see anyone who makes her feel anything. At all. She’s been numb, Owen. And it’s all your fault.”
“I’m sorry––”
“Let’s see if you can wake her up.” Then she snatches the volunteer form from the bulletin board and folds it into her purse before tossing a smirk back at me. “Don’t be late to the planning meeting on Thursday.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“And find a sitter for Grady,” she adds.
Pulling out my phone, I wave it back and forth. “Already on it.”
“Good. And Owen?”
“Yeah?”
“If you break her heart again, I’ll neuter you with a dull spoon.”
I’d laugh if it weren’t for the dead-serious expression painted across Skye’s face that dares me to try it.
My smirk vanishes. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Skye.”
“Good.” She sniffs. “At least one of us will get a happy ending.”
Then, she’s gone, and I send a quick text to Mandy.
Me: Hey, Mandy. This is Owen Daniels, Grady’s dad. Miss Swenson suggested I reach out to you the other day, and I’m sorry I’m just barely getting around to it. I was wondering if Turner would like to have a playdate with Grady sometime?
Her response is almost instant.
Mandy: Hey! Saylor mentioned you might be reaching out. Turner would love to play. Does Grady want to come over sometime this week? I’m free on Thursday or Friday evening.
Me: Thursday sounds great. I’m actually getting together with Miss Swenson to help her plan a Halloween party for the sixth grade. Could I drop Grady off around 4 or something?
