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“What?” I ask.
“Doyouwant another date?”
I hesitate. I know what I want. I know what I feel. But putting it into words isn’t always that easy.
“I think I do,” I finally say. “I told him I have Kylie, but he wants to see me anyway.”
“I can’t believe this!”
I laugh nervously, still feeling silly. “It’s really not such a big—”
“It is,” Michelle cuts me off. “It’s huge. You’re considering dating.”
“I’m going to do another date. That’s not the same as dating. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Do you like him?” Michelle asks. “He’s hot, right?”
“He’sgorgeous,” I concede.
The water boils and I pull the kettle from the stove and fill the cups, leaving the tea bags to steep for a while, while I finish the sandwiches.
“And yeah,” I add, answering Michelle’s question. “I like him. I don’t know what it is about him, but he makes me feel at home. When I’m with him, it feels like it’s always been that way. It scares me to think about dating, but if that’s what it means to be around him…I want more of that.”
Michelle smiles warmly. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to hear that. You deserve a happy ending, Nat. You and Kylie both.”
“We’re not at happy endings yet. I’ll see how it goes. And I don’t want him meeting Kylie until I know where we stand and who he really is. I want to keep her out of this so she doesn’t get hurt thinking she has a new dad when it won’t last.”
“That makes sense,” Michelle says. “Oh, God, I’m still so happy for you.”
I smile and remove the tea bags from the cups, putting them in the compost. We carry plates with our sandwiches to the living room.
“Michelle!” Kylie cries out.
“Hi, Ky,” Michelle says. “Mind if I hog your couch here?”
Kylie shakes her head and moves to give Michelle space. I hand Kylie her sandwich and we all eat together while we watch Kylie’s fairy show.
I try to focus on the story, but I keep thinking about Mason.
And it’s not a bad distraction at all.
Chapter 13
Mason
When I walk into the hospital, my mom is in a wheelchair in the lobby with a nurse, waiting for me. She has her handbag on her lap and another nurse holds her bag with the rest of her stuff.
“I’m so glad you’re going home,” I say and bend down to hug her.
“It’s about time,” she agrees.
I study her. She still looks exhausted, but that blue ring around her lips is gone. She can finally breathe on her own without struggling too much. I don’t know how long it’s going to last—at some point, she’s going to need new lungs or a machine to breathe for her.
But we’re not there yet. She’s going home, and it’s worth celebrating.
The nurse wheels her to the car. It’s standard procedure for a hospital; it’s their job to see their patients safely through the door.
When we’re outside, I open my car door and help my mom in.
