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Logan: I’m not one of ‘those guys.’ I like what I like. I already told you, I’m 35 years old and relax by watching rom-coms. Do you really think I care about what’s popular? :)
He’s merciful to throw the smiley at the end, and I’m feeling grateful when a second text pops up.
Logan: And you don’t need to worry about my meat.
Oh, God. I’ll never be able to face Logan again. Out of all the word combinations in the English language, what possessed me to usethatone? I can’t respond without making an even bigger ass out of myself, so I bury my head under a pillow and pray for unconsciousness before I can spend all night over-analyzing what just happened.
Chapter 12
Noah
The6:15a.m.alarmblares too early for my liking, but after yesterday’s mishap I’m grateful it goes off at all. Rainey and my morning runs smoother than yesterday, but I still have to hustle getting us ready simultaneously. These new guardian duties have stretched me thin, but they’re nothing compared to what awaits me at my office.
Upon learning I received a recommendation for approval, Iz drove to the social services office the next morning and completed her background check. Unfortunately, we didn’t have 3-5 business days to wait for the results. If I wasn’t in a chair at my office Tuesday morning, I’d likely be out of a job.
I begged Georgia to do anything possible to speed up the process, and she pulled a few strings to have a judge issue a temporary approval. By Friday afternoon, Izabeth was clear to help with Rainey as much as she wanted.
Rainey was inconsolably upset when I first explained how her after-school care would work. “Will I have to sit in a dark room by myself again?”
Her question sucked the air out of my lungs and shined a blinding, ugly light on my niece’s strong reaction to being left with someone else. Dunbar leaving his daughter in sketchy places while he chased a high didn’t surprise me that much. Rainey told me she sometimes stayed with a ‘friend’ who forced her to sit alone in a dark bedroom for hours at a time with no entertainment. Tears welled in my eyes as she told me about the sounds she heard outside the door—unfamiliar grunts and moans a child shouldn’t hear.
“No. No, you won’t. You’ll never have to do that again, baby cakes. Do you understand?”
She bobbed her head up and down, her blonde tendrils following suit.
“Do you remember my friend who brought us pizza last week?”
Another nod comes from the girl who never shuts up, but whose current silence speaks volumes about her being cared for by someone she doesn’t know.
“She’s my bestest friend in the whole wide world, and she wants to hang out and have fun with you after school. Is that okay?” Guilt settles into my stomach as the question leaves my mouth. It doesn’t matter if Rainey likes the idea or not—I have no alternative. We have to make this arrangement with Iz work.
Luckily, Izabeth won a piece of my niece’s heart during our pizza night when she’d agreed that Rainey deserved to stay up an extra hour and watch TV with us. Rainey’s anxiety faded as she realized that Izabeth—not a stranger—would be taking care of her.
“I haven’t even told you the best part yet,” I tease.
Confidence returns to Rainey’s voice. “What’s the best part?”
“You’re gonna have friends to play with after school! Iz babysits her cousins after school and they’re all going to come to our place and play until I get home from work.”
“But I’m not a baby,” she pouts.
“I know you’re not a baby. Her cousins aren’t babies either.”
“Then it should be calledkidsitting, right?”
“We can call it kidsitting.”
Six-year-old semantics exhaust my brain. I switch the subject and tell Rainey about Izabeth’s cousins.
“They’reboys? Ew. Why?”
“Because it’s who they are, Rae. They’re boys!”
My answer has a bite to it. Iz is doing me a favor I’ll never be able to repay, and Rainey’s upset because her playmates are boys. It’s ridiculous—and so am I, I realize. She’s six and doesn’t understand the effort required to keep her in my home. In the end, she hadn’t noticed my frustration, and my apology confused her.
Settled at my desk in the office for the first time in two weeks, I tackle the first item on my now unending list: meet with my boss. I played out worst-case scenarios my entire commute to Cincinnati, developing responses to any negativity I might face. I decided against sharing too many details—those are personal—and planned to use the vague ‘family emergency’ label when asked about my time off. I approached the meeting unnecessarily prepared for war, but my explanation appeased my boss, who shockingly apologized for her poor reception of my need for time away.
The rest of my work day stretched for eternity. Even with my meeting behind me and an overflowing plate, my attention waned during client meetings, worries visiting me about how today’s going for Rainey at school. Yesterday’s meltdown was an unfortunate surprise and knocked the wind out of my sails.
