Kensley

 

“Good night, baby,” I whisper, brushing London’s still wet hair from her face. She pulls her pink comforter up to her chin and gives me a tired smile.

“Good night, mama,” she whispers right back. I drop a kiss to her forehead before standing, looking over my shoulder to Sawyer’s crib.

She’s out like a light—and has been since right after bath.

London was allowed to watch an episode of Curious George after bath and even then, she’d been nearly sleeping on the couch.

I walk through the dark bedroom, bending at the door to flip on the night light.

“Mama?” London’s whisper is exaggerated, but just another reason why I love the girl.

“Yeah, London?” I stand and turn, leaning against the wall. I can see she’s still tucked in tight.

“I had fun today. I like playing with Guinness.”

I smile softly. “I think he likes playing with you too.”

“We do it again?” she asks around a yawn.

I shouldn’t make the promise.

I couldn’t possibly know what the next day would bring.

I don’t know what the next months will bring.

But still…

“I think so.”

“I’m glad.” Her voice is softer now, no doubt she’s ready to sleep for the night.

“Good night,” I say again and step out of the room, closing the door just enough to stop any sounds, but not so it clicks closed.

In the hall, I look to the bathroom, debating if I shower now or later.

I know, though, if I leave dishes, they won’t be done until the morning, and Sawyer’s favorite water cup is in the sink.

The apartment is small; much smaller than the house we’d lived in with Mark.

It’s also much smaller than the monthly rent price tag calls for, but that’s San Diego for you. I wasn’t ready to consider leaving the immediate area, not with Sharon and the park so near.

I move down the small hall and into the living room—a living room that hardly fits the second-hand couch I bought last week.

Then, there’s the kitchen.

It’s laughable.

Maybe only a third of Liam’s kitchen, and in a galley-style, but I suppose I should be grateful it has full-sized appliances.

It certainly doesn’t have the deep, stainless steel sink that Liam’s did.

I don’t want this for my girls.

My baby.

With my hands in the sudsy water, I start making a mental list: I have to find a job. Have to. My savings is only going to get us so far, and then there’s the hospital and birth costs…

I blow out a breath of anxiety.

This is such a mess.

I’m not prepared to have a baby.

Not with the hospital costs.

The other necessities and their costs.

I need either a crib for the baby, or a bed for Sawyer. Diapers. Formula, for just in case.

Dollar signs, dollar signs, dollar signs. They all add up.

Pulling my hands out of the water but letting my wrists sit over the basin, I look up at the ceiling, willing the tears to stay back.

I’m not ready for this.

What the hell was I thinking?

I could talk to Mark.

He’d take us back.

I’d just have to be okay with—

No!

No. No. No.

I squeeze my eyes shut and take a cleansing breath.

My kids are not going to live in that household.

They aren’t going to live with a dad who could give two shits about them, or about talking to them. I’m not doing that to them.

I think about Liam and what he’d said in the kitchen before dinner—how he could see us down the road. Today, tomorrow, and the next days.

God, I want to see it.

I so badly want to.

You do.

I open my eyes and stare at the wall in front of me.

Yeah.

I do.

I can see it and damn, it scares me to hell and back. I don’t know him enough to trust his thoughts; to trust that he won’t become overwhelmed. Sure, he likes hanging out with the girls, but he’s spent no more than three hours at a time with them—and that was today. How would that change if he was with them twenty-four seven?

It’s a lot to take on, and a lot to ask of a guy.

Startling me, my cell begins ringing. I glance at the clock; it’s only seven-twenty. I dry my hands on my jeans as I turn to pick it up from its resting spot on my counter.

Speaking of the devil…

I don’t even bother hesitating; I open the call and bring the phone to my ear. “Were your ears itching?”

“You thinking about me, Kensley?” There’s humor in Liam’s voice.

“I won’t admit to any such thing.” This. It’s just so easy.

I think that’s what scares me the most.

How easy it is.

Surely it can’t stay that way.

Can it?

“Well, I was thinking about you.”

I’m smiling and don’t even realize it right away. “You, Liam Hardt…” I let the thought end.

“That’s me. I just wanted to call, say goodnight. Be sure the girls settled in okay after their busy day.”

“They did. Sawyer was exhausted; nearly fell asleep in her bath. London couldn’t stop talking about Guinness.”

“Guinness,” Liam says, and his voice sounds amused, “has been laying by the door since you guys have left. Well, other than his potty breaks. But he lays there and every now and then, lets out this cry.”

“Are you using your dog and my daughter to get us to come back over?” I carry the phone to the couch, before curling up in the corner.

Still smiling.

Still amused.

Letting myself feel.

To enjoy this moment.

“Would it work?”

I don’t truly answer, just lightly laughing before releasing a happy sigh. “I think the girls need a little normalcy tomorrow. We have errands to run, but maybe we can do something during the week. I mean, however it works best for your schedule.” He probably goes to bed earlier than the girls during the week. At least, if I had to get up at two in the morning, I’d be going to bed before seven.

“I guess I can understand that.” He doesn’t sound upset though. He sounds like he genuinely understands my need to keep things simple for the girls.

For now, anyway.

However… I’m not going to keep pressing the brakes because this was all too fast.

I decided to go for the ride.

There still needs to be some boundaries on my part, where my girls are concerned, though.

“What do you do with the girls during the week? Do they always go to their grandparents’?”

“They will this week. I have a few appointments in the mornings.”

“Maybe you and me could meet for lunch then. Monday maybe? If it works for your appointments.”

“I’d like that.” It would be nice to do something without the girls, just him and me. See if the energy between us was there without the added presence of London and Sawyer.

“Okay. It’s a date.”

I smile again and say softly, “It’s a date.”

 

*   *   *

 

Sunday went far quicker than I could have anticipated.

Between London’s hair trimming, grocery shopping, and a trip to the second-hand store for the last of our needed furniture, I was just as exhausted as the girls were.

Sawyer even fell asleep in her spaghetti. I hated waking her for a bath, but there was no way a washcloth was going to be enough to clean her up.

Now, too early on a Monday morning, I go over my list for the week.

I have two interviews for a job, one a little later this morning, and the other on Thursday afternoon.

When I drop the girls off at Sharon’s this morning, I’ll have to be sure she’s still good for Thursday. Usually I pick the girls up around one, but Thursday they’ll need to stay over until three or so.

The furniture we bought yesterday is going to need to be finished, sooner than later. I can probably start the girls’ dresser this afternoon. I look up from the couch to where the bulky pieces—the girls’ dresser and a changing table for the baby—are hanging out, out of place, in the living room.

London’s bed was a queen-size frame, so the dresser wouldn’t have to match that. I still am not sure if I should move Sawyer to a big girl bed or get a second crib.

She’ll be out of the crib soon enough though, so it doesn’t really make sense to get a second crib.

I know the hesitation in moving her to a big girl bed is all on my part, though. She’s ready. Even if I’m not.

For simplicity, I think, looking at the furniture again, I may just do white chalk-paint finishes to both pieces.

Re-upholster the pad of the changing table to a soft gray.

White and gray. It would work for the baby, regardless of gender.

Mentally, I try to reconfigure the furniture setup in my room, because the baby is going to have to be in there. Sawyer’s crib will barely fit, but I can make it work.

So much to do this week…

I sigh, and then am quickly jotting down on the list—OBGYN. That appointment was tomorrow and while it wouldn’t be a big deal, I know I’m going to have to schedule my glucose test after. I have a history of big babies, and while I’ve never tested positive for gestational diabetes, it’s something that’s always on my doctor’s radar. I’ll need to check with Sharon to see what day would work for her in the coming weeks.

Life is going to be hectic from here on out.

There’s a small part of me that keeps trying to remind me that I have no time for a relationship, zero time to spend with Liam.

But then another part of me shoots that down quicker than the thought can form.

My plan for the day and the week set, I start on breakfast for the girls. They’ll be up shortly and then the day will really start moving.

Sure enough, within ten minutes, I have two sleepy girls boycotting breakfast and clothes, but we make it out the door on time.

At Sharon’s, the girls immediately go to play, and she and I talked about the week. Thankfully, she’s only too happy to take the girls.

She also apologizes profusely for the call with Mark.

“He’s your son.”

“But his actions…” Sharon shakes her head. “I raised him so much better than that.” She looks like she’s going to cry, and I find myself comforting her. “I don’t want to lose you or the girls,” she whispers in my ear and I hug her tightly.

“You’re their grandma, Sharon. I wouldn’t take that from you or them.”

“London was so upset on Friday. It broke my heart.”

I nod before leaning back, my hands on her shoulders. “She’s fine though.”

Sharon presses a kiss to my cheek before tapping that very cheek lightly. “Good luck on your interview. You know if you need anything…”

I nod. “I know, Sharon. Thank you.” She knew as well as I do that I won’t take a penny from her and Paul, though.

After quick kisses for the girls, I’m headed on my way.

First, interview.

I’m normally a silent-drive kind of girl, but I find myself giving in and turning the radio on.

I would never tell him, but I need to hear Liam’s voice. Kind of like a good luck charm.

Thankfully, I missed the first Caught call. I could never hear another cheating story and be just fine. Liam talks about upcoming concerts and things happening in San Diego. He does really with the monologue kind of thing. There’s a three-song-long moment then, and I’m pulling into Ralph’s, the grocery store I’d applied to.

A job at a grocery store isn’t going to do much for my income, but at least it would give an income.

I’m ready to turn off the car when Liam’s voice comes through the waves again. Because I have a few minutes, I shut off the car and let the radio play, listening to the voice I’m coming to enjoy so much.

“Thank you to everyone who came out on Friday and helped with the food drive. We had an excellent turn out, didn’t we, Johnson?”

A second voice comes on; one I don’t recognize but assume it belongs to the man that was with Liam on Friday. “We did. Even when you ditched.” There’s clearly a brotherly jest there.

“Hey, now. Nothing is more important than feeding the hungry, I agree with that, yes, but… You see, San Diego, I met a girl.”

“Dun duh dun,” Johnson laughs.

“She’s not the easiest woman to court, but I’m having fun. She’s a real sweetheart.”

“And when do you see your sweetheart again?” Johnson is having fun teasing Liam, and I’m actually getting a kick out of it all.

“We have a lunch date.” He says it so matter-of-factly, semi-amused even.

“And where are you taking her?”

Liam laughs. “You know I’m not going to air that on the radio.”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“I maybe haven’t decided, no. But even if I knew, I wouldn’t announce it to all of San Diego. I mean, guys, I love you, but I’m working hard to convince this girl I’m a solid deal.”

I’m smiling and shaking my head. I’d listen to more, but I have to get inside so, as I’m sliding my keys out and getting ready to pull myself out of the SUV, I think, No convincing needed, Liam Hardt.