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The next day, I’m home from the hospital with a few minor bumps and bruises and a permanent ice pack on my hip. I’m lucky. I know it could have been a lot worse, and I’m counting my lucky stars my injuries weren’t worse. The only good thing to come from all of it is being showered with attention. Who even am I? The once grumpy librarian who left the university for a little book store now loves the attention of a very charming and enigmatic song writer.
“Dashing down the way, I hear her say, ‘her-ay, it must be time for diiiiiick.’”
I really thought, when he told me he was a jingle writer, he would be good. Instead, he’s running around my house, belting out innuendos.
Laughing hard, I hold my side to ease the pain. “Stop making me laugh.”
My protest is weak as I continue to laugh, but he stops playing the acoustic guitar and lifts the strap off, placing it back on the stand in the corner of my room.
“Sorry. How are you feeling? Need me to get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
He joins me, sitting beside me on my bed.
“You know, I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I am about you how you found out about Penelope’s books.”
Leo shakes his head at me. “Don’t be silly. I talked to her, and I know you didn’t know until I showed up mad about it.”
I nod, still feeling uneasy. Penelope and Leo both spent all their free time with me in the hospital, but we haven’t talked about where this leaves us, and I’m scared today will be the day.
I jump at the sound of the doorbell, making Leo laugh.It’s them.I’m so nervous about meeting Penelope’s moms. Not to mention, I technically helped their minor publish, a fact they knew nothing about, but Pen promises they know now.
Leo explained his role as donor sixteen years ago and his current strict role as Penelope’s father. Apparently, they’ve co-parented with little to no problems ever since. Now the teen years are much harder, but the three of them have always been a united front for the good of Pen. My question is, is there room for me? Does Pen hate the idea of her dad and me being more?
I ring my hands together, unable to sit still as they come back to my room. Gosh, I hope it’s clean enough. Did I take the trash out? Fuck.
“Hey, Olive. Brought my moms, as promised,” Penelope announces, coming in and taking a seat at the end of my bed.
My ribs are still sore, and it’s still hard to sit upright. I hope that doesn’t make me look bad in front of these important women. When I see them, my jaw drops. Like two super models, they strut in wearing designer clothes and bright white smiles. Stephanie says hi first, surprising me with a hug. It’s warm, and something tells me its genuine.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, especially from my wife.”
I look at her in confusion, until Whitney peeks her head around, and I get a good look at her.
“Um, I’m confused.”
Because I know her.
This woman comes into the bookstore at least once a week. We’ve talked, and she’s never mentioned Pen or Leo. But looking at the striking resemblance, I guess I should have put the pieces together sooner.
“I’m sorry if you feel tricked.”
“Mom? What’s going on?” Penelope asks, with the same look on her face as Leo.
Taking a deep breath, she explains.
“I followed you so I could know where you were and make sure you were safe.” Whitney brings her hands in the air as if to stop her daughter from exploding at her. “Now, before you jump down my throat for not trusting you, I do. It’s this city full of strangers I don’t trust with my baby girl.”
I watch as the teenager’s attitude deflates, and her mom’s touch to her arm calms her down immediately.
“Olive, I owe you an apology as well. I had no idea you were seeing Leo. I swear, I was just checking on my daughter. I wanted to meet the person she was spending all her time with. I’m sorry. I was jealous.”
I smile at the turn of events. “It’s okay. I would have done the exact same.”
“But not cool,” Penelope adds, needing to have the last word.
“Well, now that we all realize y’all know each other, it’s my turn.” Stephanie laughs.
