I give the pregnant woman waiting on the couch next to me a small smile remembering my best friend’s advice about not shying away from contact with them even if I find myself feeling envious.
She gives her stomach a small stroke at the same time the office door thankfully swings open.
“I’ll see you next week, Emma,” my best friend says handing the little girl a lollipop.
“Thank you Dr. Joanne,” the adorable child who appears to be around Sage’s age, replies.
Her mother stands to her feet, links hands with her daughter, and gives Joanne a concerned expression. She simply shakes her head and the woman lets out what can only be a sigh of relief.
We watch them exit through the glass doors at the front of the building before I grab the empty box sitting between my feet and slip into her office.
Joanne lets her long, thick brown hair down to pool on top of her slender shoulders. “You’re early. Were you waiting long?”
I shut the door behind us. “No. Five minutes max. My doctor actually got me out in unusually good timing.”
“Everything okay?”
“Routine checkup.”
She flops down into her white leather chair. “Didn’t you just get one when you got back from working in Doctenn?”
“I should’ve, but unexpectedly working for Holden kinda threw a dent in that. This was the soonest they could get me in.”
Joanne folds her long fingers in her lap. “And how is it working for Holden?”
“Oh, no.” My head quickly shakes. “Don’t do that. Do not analyze me. I came here as a friend to collect the toys for charity, not as a patient.”
“You can never technically be one of my patients. I only work with children.” She briefly pauses, “But you do know I’m here if you ever need to talk that way.”
“I know.”
“Or even if you want to talk over cocktails about the investment banker you spent three days with in the Bahamas last year and never spoke to again after the limo brought you home.”
“He really wasn’t that special.”
“Or the podiatrist from two years ago who you stopped speaking to after he simply asked about marriage.”
“It was like our fifth date!”
“He asked how you felt on the subject not if you wanted to rush to the altar.”
It sure the hell felt like it. And for a foot doctor he lacked the ability to make my toes curl.
“Or if you’re finally ready to talk about the pilot you were dating, but abruptly broke up with before you left-”
“It wasn’t abrupt.”
“You sent him a text telling him you took a job and were leaving the country at 2 a.m.”
With a short shrug, I defend, “At least I told him.”
“Which is more than some get I know. Your inability to form long relationships outside of your family would make for an interesting case study in my book.”
I roll my eyes.
Everything makes for an interesting case study to her. She’s been saying those words since we first met at an early childhood training retreat six years ago. We were roommates for three days and by the end of it, friends. She has this way of getting me to talk that no one else has.
Well.
Almost no one.
“What do you call my friendship with you?”
“An anomaly.”
After flashing her my middle finger, I ask, “Do you have the toys already gathered or do you need to sort through them?”
She tosses her head to the closest, which is on the opposite side of the room from the toy area she uses for patients. “They’re all packed and ready to be donated.”
“Perfect.”
As I make my way towards the door to collect them, she rewinds the conversation backwards. “How are things working out with your new job? I haven’t had the chance to really talk to you about it since you started. Seems high maintenance. Actually, all the nanny jobs you have been taking over the past three years seem to require more and more of your attention. Why is that?”
With my hand on the door knob, I glance over my shoulder. “Didn’t I already tell you not to analyze me?”
“I’m asking as a friend.”
“You’re asking like a consejero.”
Her pale hands fly into the air. “Well I don’t know how else to ask!”
Joanne’s frustrations cause me to snicker, and I return to the task at hand.
“Seriously, I swear I hear from you less and less every time you take a new job.”
“To be fair, the last one was in a different time zone.”
“Meena.”
I begin to place the neatly stacked toys into the box, actively avoiding her accusations.
My work consumes me, the same way hers does. Just because I don’t have to sit at the table in a light blue painted room and analyze the issues children are facing from the death of a parent, or abuse from an alcoholic one, doesn’t make what I do any less important. It doesn’t mean I should be scolded for submerging myself into my profession.
“Meena,” the repetition of my name successfully stops my movements. When I turn to face her, she calmly confesses, “I’m just worried, that’s all. I want you to have more to your life than work. You’ve already gone to two seminars since you’ve been home and recertified your CPR training, which I don’t think was anywhere near being expired.”
“I do more than work. I have my family. I help them whenever I can. Loaning money. Dropping off groceries. Picking up medications.”
Her lips press together to prevent whatever comment she anxiously wants to counter with.
“I’ve been spending a little more time with Mia, helping her hunt down the perfect homecoming dress.”
Joanne remains quiet.
“Outside of that, I collect and donate toys to women’s centers and shelters. I am very busy with any extra time I actually do get.”
She nods slowly. “But what do you do for you?”
“Qué?”
“You just told me all this shit you do for other people, but what do you do for you?”
I glance away.
“Last guy you briefly dated was your boss’ brother.”
“Despite what the tabloids tried to insinuate, date would be a strong word.”
“Exactly.”
Her point isn’t missed even though I wish it were.
“You should get back out there,” she encourages kindly. “Go to a Happy Hour when you’re not working or whenever their dad wants some quality time with them.”
Why would I troll a bar for a one nightstand when the only man I want to be coming for is more often than not just a few feet away from me?
Holden’s sexy, stoic face floods into my mind, flushing my face.
“Unless…” Joanne instantly catches the change. “Unless there is someone you are interested in and not telling me about!”
“It’s...not exactly an ideal situation.”
The words lift her brow. “Because…”
I opt for silence as my answer.
“Is he married?”
“Not anymore.”
“Recently divorced?”
Widowed. And not recently at all. Sage had just turned six months when Beth died in a car crash. He’s had plenty of time to cope and move forward yet he hasn’t. There are more times than I care to admit where I feel like I’m trapped in her icy shadow, but the closer we get the more he allows me to see the cracks in the charming character she always appeared to be.
Joanne lets out a disapproving sigh, “Meena, the only thing worse than an inability to attach yourself to meaningful relationships outside of your family is attaching yourself to someone who is unavailable, emotionally, mentally, and or physically.”
My cell phone interrupts her lecture with a cheerful ringing. At the same time I pull it out of my pocket to shut it off, I announce, “I gotta go.”
“Who’s calling?”
“No one. It’s an alarm.” Once the device is back in my jeans, I pick up the box and shut the door to the closet behind me. “I’m going up to Sage’s preschool today for Firetruck Day, but don’t want a shit parking space.”
Her face scrunches in confusion.
“It’s fire safety week and the local fire department is coming over to talk to the kids about safety and let them tour the truck. I’m gonna go, take some pictures, and then we’ll grab lunch and some ice cream before picking Lynk up from school. We might go to the park after that. Lynk likes to kick his soccer ball around the big field the day before a game and Sage loves to make bouquets from the weeds she picks.”
“Sounds like a fun Friday.” She offers me a smile. “For them.”
The additional snide comment rolls my eyes. “I get it, Joanne. I need a life. I’ll look into that.”
We exchange friendly smiles and goodbyes before I hustle back to my car.
Thankfully the drive to Moon and Stars Childhood Academy isn’t filled with traffic. Rather than risk having to park in the far lot and hike over to the building in my wedges, I decide I’ll drop off the toys I collected on Sunday instead. Lynk plays first thing tomorrow morning and has expressed repeatedly the importance all of his family is there to see him play. Not exactly sure when I crossed the line from ‘mean nanny’ to ‘family’, but I’ll admit I adore it. That’s something else I love about kids. There’s no ‘logical’ timeline for how they love someone. They just do it. It’s based on feelings and the actions you’ve displayed towards them, not how many months or years you’ve been around. Sometimes I wish adults would let go and function the same way.
I wait outside the building with Sage’s classmates’ parents. It’s mainly moms except for the one dad who is the primary pop in parent in his relationship. His husband often travels, missing many of the school functions, as well as the day to day moments, so he shows up as often as he can to video chat or record their time together to allow him to feel included. The conversations we have always stir up two very opposite feelings inside of me. On one hand, I want that level of love and appreciation. Mike raves on and on about the way Dereck is genuinely thankful he goes the extra mile for them to have those family moments and memories. I often do similar things for the families I work for despite the fact most of the children’s parents don’t actually care. I don’t need the recognition for going above and beyond. Kids smiling and feeling like someone cares is enough. But just because I don’t need it, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice to have. On the other hand, I’m not even sure I’m capable of something that consistent. Joanne’s point hasn’t always been true. Once upon a time, I was capable of committing to another person, it just so happens I chose the wrong one. He should’ve been temporary. It might’ve swayed my beliefs in a different direction than this.
Sage’s teacher, Mrs. Krackleberry, holds the front door open and directs the children to sit on the sidewalk. As soon as Sage spots me, she waves frantically, but follows the instructions given to her. Two other Pre-K classes join them along with their teachers and a joyful ruckus escapes the entire group at the firetruck pulling in.
I promptly pull my phone out and start snapping pictures of Sage. Her mouth is parted wide and the excitement on her small face is contagious.
Three firefighters exit the truck with warm demeanors. One is significantly older and immediately introduces himself while the other two appear to be closer to me in age. They take their places beside him and the children instantly hush from the power of his bass voice. As my fingers close the camera, waiting to take more pictures until after the speeches and questions, my eyes catch those of the firefighter furthest from me. His baby face matches his baby blues, but that’s where all ‘baby’ features stop. His frame is swollen with muscles spanning gracefully from his shoulders down to his thighs that are currently covered in uniform pants. He offers me an innocent grin and Joanne’s words begin to ring loudly in my head.
Would it be so bad to sleep with a firefighter?
After a ten minute speech about fire safety, another thirty minutes of helping the children tour the vehicle and taking numerous photos of Sage completely engaged in the activities; I check her out of school for the day and treat us to sandwiches at a local deli. She describes in detail her morning at school including the various doll discussions she had with Kirsten, Mike’s daughter. I make sure to ask questions and truly listen, knowing the importance of giving her the attention she needs. While everything children say isn’t life or death, more often than not you can pick up on social cues they’re missing or corrections that need to casually be made by listening to the stories they tell.
Sage pauses to lick the Dorito cheese from her fingers and I take the opportunity to check my vibrating phone.
Holden: I can pick up the kids today.
The text slides a smile onto my face and a longing back into my system I was just banishing.
What if he’s not that unavailable? He’s already proven he’s physically open…Maybe with just a little more time and coaxing we can add the other two?
Me: Grabbed Sage early for lunch and ice cream. Wanna meet us at Super Bowl Sundae in about ten minutes?
Holden: Sure.
I turn the screen off and smile brightly at Sage. “Wanna go get some helados?”
Sage tilts her face as she tries to recall what that is.
“Ice cream.”
“Si!” She squeaks, popping out of her seat to throw her trash away.
Our short car trip over to the ice cream shop isn’t filled with talking, but singing. Sage, unlike her brother, has a fondness for 80s rock, the good and the what were they thinking. She bounces along in her car seat, head bangs, and fist pumps for no apparent reason. Her performance is the type of adorable that belongs on YouTube, or a commercial selling something you don’t care about but because the kid is so cute you watch the entire thing.
As soon as her car door is closed she links her hand with mine. “Wake me up, bumbore todo…”
I stifle my urge to snicker at the incorrect lyrics.
At least she has it in the right key.
The moment we step foot inside, a voice more delicious than any treat in the building states, “There’s my sunshine!”
“Daddy!” Sage rushes straight into his arms.
In one swift, swoop, he has her lifted up and cradled to his chest. She giggles while his grip tightens, an unparalleled peace progressing across his expression. The way he melts for them only makes make love him more.
I need to love him less.
I really need to not love him at all.
“Come on, Miss Meena!” She calls to me. “Let’s make sundaes!”
“Yeah,” Holden echoes. “Get over here.”
Quickly, I join the two of them at the counter to begin the process.
Holden gives me a warm smile, and I can’t help myself from wanting the proper greeting he would give me if we were something more.
If I meant something more.
“What kind of ice cream are you gonna have, Sunshine?”
“Chocolate.”
“Good choice.” His eyes steal a glimpse of mine. “You’re gonna have butter pecan…” He gives his attention back to Sage. “What should Daddy have? Chocolate or vanilla?”
“Swirl it!” Her small finger makes a tornado motion.
Unable to resist, I encourage, “Definitely, Daddy. You should swirl it…”
The double entendre shifts a wicked smirk to his lips. “You think so?”
“I know so…”
His eyes grow a predatory glaze, but Sage quickly kills it. “Add sprinkles!”
Holden gags and shakes his head. “No, but you can have some on yours.”
The young woman behind the counter finally finishes with the customer in front of us and comes over to begin our order. Once the three of us have our treats, we allow Sage to pick our seats outside close to the playground area where she can run off to the minute she’s finished.
“So, did you randomly just decide it would be a good idea to play hooky with my daughter or was there another motive?” he playfully asks before his first bite.
“It’s fire safety week at school and today they had the local fire department come to visit. I went to take a few pictures and figured since I was there why not grab her early, have lunch, and then get Lynk directly from school.”
“We’re going to the park!” Sage announces, syrup on the tip of her nose.
Holden reaches over to wipe it off. “Oh yeah? Think I can come too?”
She rapidly nods her head, and he gives me a sweet wink.
I try to ignore the butterflies parading around the pit of my stomach. “Sage, why don’t you tell Daddy what you learned from the firefighters at school today?”
“Yeah,” he agrees, reaching over and having a scoop of my sundae like it’s his. Like I’m his. “Tell me all about it.”
Her mouth begins flying at the speed of light, hands acting as back up to every important piece of information. I quietly eat my icy treat I’m now sharing, devouring it in similar spoonfuls to the way I am Holden’s reactions to his lively daughter.
His kids are his whole world…
What I wouldn’t give to be a part of that.
“So, I need to remember if there’s a fire to call 991.”
“No, Daddy,” Sage playful scolds. “9-1-1.”
“That’s what I said. 997.”
“No, Daddy,” her laughter gets louder. “9-1-1.”
“Okay, okay,” he surrenders. “And if my clothes catch on fire I should stop, drop, and blow?”
“Rolllllllll,” she drags out the words with more giggles.
“Why don’t I show Daddy some of the pictures I took today while you go play for a bit?” I suggest pushing the empty container to the side.
Sage doesn’t wait another moment to bolt away.
Holden drops his spoon into his bowl. “Why do I feel like the world’s worst father for forgetting it was Firetruck Day? She talked about that shit all week…”
There’s a vibration from his phone that interrupts the conversation.
He gives it a quick swipe, a couple of taps, and turns the screen back off.
I motion my head towards it. “You’ve had a lot going on this week with work.”
“Still going on,” he mumbles.
“Cut yourself some slack, Holden. Your kids already do.”
“Was I the only parent missing?”
“Hardly. And it really wasn’t that big of a deal to be there,” I reassure, pulling out my phone. “I went so I could take some pictures. Figured we would show them to you when we got home, then maybe we could print them out, and Sage and I could make a scrapbook page this weekend for our art project.”
His grin expands. “You two have a scrapbook?”
“Don’t judge,” my fussing is paired with laughter. “I love scrapbooking. I have one I always carry with me when I move.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Si. I may grasp the concept that people move on and forget, but I love having a tangible memory for myself. It’s mainly filled with just a couple photos of me with the children I’ve cared for, including Lynk from when he was a baby, but there are some others too. Couple of my parents, few of my siblings, my best friend, and one of you.”
Surprise appears at the same time his phone vibrates again. This time he ignores it. “Me?”
“Yeah, from back in college…” I try not to cringe at how creepy it probably sounds coming out of my mouth. “It’s not really a big deal. I kept it mainly because it reminded me of Lynk.”
“Why did it remind you of him? Just ‘cause I’m his dad?”
“No…” My mind instantly pulls up the photo in my head. The photo I always tried to avoid when looking back through the scrapbook between jobs. The photo I knew as soon as I let my eyes land on it my heart would ache in agonizing levels. “You had fallen asleep in class. Your face was on your arm and your mouth was cracked wide open. I took it and then woke you up. I was just going to show you and then make fun of you for the drool you left on the desk, but when class was over, you told me you had been up all night because Lynk was sick…The picture became a reminder of what a good father you were and what a good father looked like. You know, I’ve met many fathers over the past few years and….most can’t even come close to the one you were then or the one you’re trying to be now.”
Silence sets itself between us but our eyes stay joined.
Finally, he clears his throat and checks his phone.
Regretting how deep the conversation became more or less on accident, I shift us towards the original topic, “Anyway, scrapbooks are something every family should have. Trust me. You’ll be thanking my memory when she’s eight and you’re wondering where your little girl went.”
“I’m wondering that now…” he dejectedly mutters, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Swear, she was just a baby like a year ago.”
“All parents feel that way,” I quietly comfort through the sadness sneaking up the back of my throat. “Or at least that’s how it seems.”
My eyes focus on the photos and avoid contact with his. I carefully swipe showing him the various moments while explaining what was happening and place faces to names he probably recalls Sage rambling about, but couldn’t exactly picture.
“So that’s Kirsten…” Holden folds his hands together. “And that guy right there is her dad?”
“One of her dads.”
He nods at my correction.
“Mike. Really nice guy. Works from home. He’s a part time accountant and his husband Dereck is a tour manager, so he constantly travels. He keeps asking when the girls are going to get together for a playdate, but that’s not exactly my call.”
His concern is immediate. “Sage has never had a playdate before. I don’t like the idea of her going to some guy’s house I don’t even know. I-”
“Need to learn to branch out for her sake.”
Holden’s typical scowl appears.
“I know it’s hard, but you have to let her socialize outside of school. She has friends, Holden. She should get to see them the same as Lynk sees his.”
He chews on the information briefly. “You know his last name?”
“So you can you look him up?”
“Yup.”
“I do and I’ll give it to you, but you have to promise me that once you realize he doesn’t have nefarious intentions and that he’s not the leader of some loco cult, you’ll let me arrange a playdate for them.” His defensive disposition starts to waver. “And you’ll take her to it.”
“Fuck no.”
A light laugh shoots out of me. “Come on, Holden. You need to mingle with other parents. It’s healthy.”
“For who?”
“For all of you.”
He grumps, “I’ll….think about it.”
“Well you’re not getting his last name otherwise.”
His cocky smirk returns. “You do know I have other ways to obtain such information, right?”
I shake my head and return to showing him the last of the photos.
When we arrive at the selfie photo we took with the baby-faced firefighter, he growls, “Who the fuck is that asshole and why is so standing so fucking close?”
Unable to resist poking the situation, I ask, “Are you pissed off some random hombre was that close to Sage or was that close to me?”
“Both.”
The lack of hesitation in his answer receives him a smile.
Holden cheeks noticeably brighten and he swallows his embarrassment.
“Greg,” I emphasize his name to watch Holden squirm, “was one of the volunteers today. He was actually really nice.” Putting my phone away, I casually add, “He gave me his number.”
“What the fuck? Why?”
“Why do you think?”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t reply.
“To see yo desnudo.”
The reddening of his face returns in a more fuming nature.
“To hear mis gemidos.”
Holden’s neck strains in irritation, but he remains silent. Keeps his quiet composure.
I give him one final push. “To watch bajate while I say his name.”
This time he noticeably growls behind his gritted teeth.
Pleased to have gotten under his skin, I state, “Tell me not to use it and I won’t.”
He instantly moves his mouth, prepared to do exactly that by the glimmer in his eyes, yet he stops. Forces himself back in his chair.
Wow…Maybe I should call him. Maybe I’m wrong about Holden and he’ll never cave. Calling Greg and taking Joanne’s unwanted advice is looking better and better.
“You know, Beth never went to shit like that for Lynk.”
And now it looks ideal.
“She couldn’t even remember to pack him diapers and underwear…” He shakes his head slowly. “But you…you remember it all.”
“It’s my job.”
“It’s more than that,” he argues. “It’s obviously more than that. Your job doesn’t require you to take them for ice cream or arrange post practice pizza nights. That’s the type of shit I imagine a mother does because she loves her children. Because she wants to make memories with them…”
I uncomfortably shift in my seat. “Okay, so I go above and más allá. Big deal.”
“It is a big deal.” Suddenly, Holden sits back up and leans forward. “At least to me it is. My kids, believe it or not, have never had someone besides me who cares this much…”
“I’m sure Beth loved them.”
“She loved herself,” he coldly grumbles. Before I have a chance to challenge or question his comment, he says, “I wanna ask you something.”
“Si?”
“Why don’t you have kids of your own?”
A wave of grief grabs me mercilessly by the throat.
“Have you just not met the right guy yet, or is it something else?”
It’s my turn to lean back in my seat and remain silent.
And now we’re back to this not being a casual conversation. Why should I let him know more than my measurements or what I want in bed? He’s not exactly opening himself up to me like we could be building something more than a couple months of fooling around. Is it a good idea or even fair to expose more of my heart to the man who already has way too much power over it?
“You know I could probably search for the answer myself,” he teases with a crooked smirk. “But I’m asking you instead.” The genuine curiosity in his tone speeds up my heartbeat. “I wanna know the real reason. Not just what I’d find in your files.”
Hope floods my eyes.
He’s attempting to make a connection with me.
He’s coming a little closer…
“Alright,” I quietly cave and steal a glance of Sage playing in the sand with another little girl. “But it’s answer for answer.”
Holden falls quiet and I instantly find it harder to breathe. He darts his attention to his little girl, gives her a small wave, and allows his eyes to fall deeper into mine. “You first.”
“Okay…” My hands pull my hair to one side of my face. “I have a difficult time getting pregnant.”
“Why?”
“I was diagnosed with polycystic ovary syndrome around 17.”
Panic paints his expression.
“Small cysts form on my ovaries creating a hormonal imbalance. My doctor recommended I start taking the pill to help deal with it and suggested I make some adjustments to my lifestyle like better eating and working out. At 17, I barely had time to remember to eat let alone eat something healthy or work out. You would think helping around the house with my brothers and sisters would’ve been enough…” I try to offer him a soothing smile, but it doesn’t budge the fear. “One of the drawbacks is having a harder time conceiving.”
“So…you’ve tried?”
“It happened once. Unplanned.”
The surprise in his eyes stiffens me.
Reluctantly, I continue, “It was after I stopped working for you. I started dating a TA that fall. It wasn’t anything serious, primarily because I had a new nanny job and traveled back home most weekends to help out. However, when I discovered I was pregnant, I was about six weeks. I thought the pills had stopped working, but when I went to the doctor and got the results, I was excited. I had spent my entire life helping raise kids and it was like finally I’ll have a chance to raise my own. To be a mother and not just a mother fill in. To care for a child that was mine….” A familiar pain settles in my chest. “He however wasn’t thrilled at all. He started shouting and breaking things. He was livid. Said I was trying to trap him. Complained he could barely afford himself and definitely not a kid. Then we started arguing about abortions and before I knew it, he shoved me. The corner of the table jabbed me in the side and he got the brilliant idea to beat it out of me.” My hands fidget with my empty container, attention doing everything it can to keep from meeting Holden’s. “Lost the baby. Had two cracked ribs and a bruised jaw...After all that, I…I gave up on the idea of having a family for myself. Once I got the all clear later that summer, I broke my lease, sold my shit, and took a job in New York filling in for a nanny who was going on maternity leave. Haven’t stopped traveling since.”
His hand unexpectedly lands on mine. I drag my eyes upward slowly taken back when I see his jaw unhinged and green gaze filled with rage. “I’ll destroy him.”
The lack of mirth in his tone soothes an inkling of the pain that lingers.
Thinking back on it doesn’t help my wandering thoughts about what would’ve happened between the two of us had he come my way instead of Beth’s. How different the past could’ve been. How Sage and Lynk could’ve been ours.
I banish the unnecessary ugliness.
All he did was follow his heart. Maybe this time he’ll follow it to me…
“I’m serious.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“Holden.”
“Meena.”
I pin him with a serious look. “Let it go. I have. And I’ve moved on.”
“Did you at least send that bastard to jail?”
“He did time.”
“Years?”
“First offense, so a few months and court mandated anger management.”
Holden’s fingers flex to capture mine. “He got off light.”
My eyes try not to drink in the sight of our hands together in fear he’ll retreat. I slightly turn my left wrist to expose the blue butterfly tattoo. “That’s who this one represents…”
Unexpectedly, his free hand reaches across to give it a light caress.
It’s like he’s wishing it peace.
Like he’s wishing me peace.
The emotions become unbearable and I barely croak, “Your turn.”
He nods, fingers vanishing, but hand still linked with mine. “What do you wanna know?”
Everything.
“How’d you get into computers?”
A nostalgic look jumps onto his face. “I was in elementary school. About seven. I did everything I could to stay away from home until I absolutely had to be there. The librarian, Mr. Nobles, used to be a programmer for some big company, though he never mentioned it by name, and one Wednesday afternoon I caught him in one of his weird tangents about the future of technology. He was convinced some day the entire world would be controlled by computers and the only way to prepare and possibly defend ourselves was to know everything about how they functioned. He was completely out of his fucking mind, but he took me under his wing. During recesses after lunch, I would sneak to the library and if there wasn’t a class in there he would teach me about all the parts inside. We’d gut it and rebuild it, always better than it was. And after school, when the library was basically empty, he broke down the basics of coding, gave me books to study and taught me as much as possible.” Holden’s grin expands and the ache in my chest completely vanishes. “All of it was so easy for me to understand, it was wild. You know most people struggle to learn programming, at least in the beginning, but me? It felt like it was second nature. Learning code was the easiest thing I had ever learned in my life.”
Awe and disbelief collide. “You were only seven….”
“Guess it was just in my DNA,” he cockily jokes. I give his hand a tight squeeze and it causes a chuckle. “After a few years with Mr. Nobles, I kinda took learning into my own hands. Trial and error. Lots of experimenting. As far as building goes, I made a habit of convincing any foster family who had one to let me take it apart and make it ‘more secure’ with upgraded parts I would buy from pawn shops or computer stores.”
Helplessly, I flirt, “So basically you’ve always had a way with your fingers?”
Holden wets his lips in an enticing fashion. “Exactly.”
All of a sudden, Sage appears at the table and his hand flies away from mine. “Miss Meena, is it time to pick up Lynk yet?”
I bat away the sadness from the loss of touch. Checking my phone, I give her a prompt response. “We can get going to wait in line. I’ll let you canta las canciones he hates before he gets in the car.”
Holden pulls Sage into his lap at the same time she sings, “Glitter bug…”
Her father questions, “You mean, jitter bug?”
“Glitter bug, Daddy.”
Before this can turn into a long conversation, I interrupt, “Do you wanna meet us there?”
“Why don’t we drop off your car and just all ride together?” Our eyes lock. “How does that sound?”
Like maybe his kids aren’t the only one considering me a member of the family…
“Can we still listen to Miss Meena’s música?!”
“Of course,” he declares, standing up and immediately placing her back in his arms. “I’m sure Daddy can hack into her playlist.”
The lame joke is delivered with a wink my direction.
He’s already hacked his way into my heart, why would something as simple as my Spotify playlist ever stand a chance?