TYLER

When Monday morning comes around, I find myself dreading it for the first time in a long while.

I like to work; I enjoy it. For years, it’s been the only constant activity that keeps my mind busy. That stops my brain from wandering too far into places I don’t want it to go out of boredom.

However, considering the weekend the four of us just had, it’s no surprise I feel differently this time around. I pull to the curb of Jess’s school, already disappointed that I haven’t run into Maggie yet today. I spent an extra few minutes stalling as I grabbed my coffee from Jax, but there was no sign of her. No sign of her in the school drop-off line, either.

“Mila had to be at school early,” Jess quips from the backseat. “Is that who you’re looking for?”

“Oh, er—yeah,” I say, embarrassed. “Say hello to her for me, will you?”

“Say hello to her yourself!” She giggles. “Can she come over and work on homework tonight? I like to help her with math, and she helps me with art.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

“Maybe Maggie can read us some more of the book,” Jess wheedles. “Maybe three chapters.”

“You know the rule is two, and we’ll have to see if she’s available,” I say, though I’m desperately hoping she’s up for a visit. “We don’t want to bother the Marshalls too much.”

“You like her, don’t you?” Jess asks, her eyebrows furrowing together. “Maggie?”

“I like both Maggie and Mila.”

“But you really like Maggie. Adult-like.”

I’ve made a promise not to lie to my daughter if at all possible, so I nod. “I do.”

“That’s good. I had fun this weekend.”

“Me too,” I tell her. “Now give me a kiss before you’re late.”

As I watch her head into school, I turn over the realization in my head. I do like Maggie. A lot. I mean, I’ve already told her I love her, but the thing is...it’s more. Every second I’m away from her feels like a waste of time. A bitter remnant of the minutes we spend together. Even being in the same room with her—knowing she’s reading to the girls while I’m preparing a bedtime snack—it’s nice. It’s comfortable, and homey, and it’s exactly what I’ve been missing. Exactly what Jess has been missing.

I drive back toward the inn, wondering if Maggie will ever feel the same way. I believe her when she says she cares for me, but she’s holding something back. She’s cautious, and I don’t blame her. Lucky for me, I’m patient when I want something badly enough.

As I make the turn onto the road leading to the inn, the bookstore across the street catches my eye, and I stop the car early, pulling over to the shoulder to park. I sidle my way inside, noting it opened just minutes before. The shop is empty save for a woman behind the desk.

“Good morning,” she chirps. She’s young and pretty, with a nice smile and a pleasant voice. “My name is Julia. Are you looking for something specific?”

“Just browsing,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Actually, I need two gifts for six-year-old girls. Could you point me in the right direction?”

“Absolutely.” She hums an indistinct tune, wandering across the store and pointing me to a colorful shelf. “Are these for your daughters?”

“Yes,” I say, then correct myself. “Well, my daughter and her friend.”

“Lucky girls,” she says with a smile. “Books are the best gifts. I’ll leave you to browse, but let me know if you need anything else.”

As she moves away, I’m overwhelmed by the peacefulness in the space. It’s quiet, just a bit dusty, but neat as a button and welcoming. Windows allow bright light to shine over the wooden floorboards, with random stepladders strewn before the shelves.

I peruse for a few long minutes, choosing several books at random that look like something Jess and Mila might enjoy. If nothing else, it’ll be an excuse for us to visit Mila and Maggie and deliver our gifts.

I cringe, wondering what sort of man I’ve become—buying gifts for a little girl while hoping it’ll give me some quality time with her mother. Somehow, I suspect Mila will not be opposed.

“Do you own this place?” I feign nonchalance as I bring my books to the counter.

Julia scans one barcode. “Oh, no. Claire Vanderlin does—she owns half of this town.”

“Doesn’t she own the inn? I’m staying there, thought I’d heard the name before.”

“She sure does,” Julia says. Then, holding up the second book, she grins. “Great choices—your girls will love them.”

I don’t correct her on the phrase your girls, instead trying it on for size. A family of four—Margaret, me, Mila and Jess. It sounds nice.

“Do you get a lot of business in here?” I ask. “It’s quiet this morning.”

A shadow crosses her face. “Not as much as I’d like. It’s such a beautiful little store; it’s a shame this place isn’t more popular.”

“I agree. Say, if I wanted to get ahold of Claire, would you know how to contact her?”

“It’ll be eighteen dollars and two cents,” she says, then frowns. “Claire?”

I clear my throat. “My company has funds to make a donation to a local business. My girls happen to love books—I was wondering if she’d be accepting—”

“Oh, that would be so generous.” Julia cuts me off, giving me a bright smile as she packages the books in special gift wrapping. “Don’t tell her I told you this, but I think we could really use it. Someone called here the other day asking about Claire. I think they were interested to see if she’d sell the place.”

“She isn’t selling, is she? Like you said, this place is gorgeous.”

“Right! I thought the same thing, but...” she shakes her head. “I can’t deny the numbers in the books. Plus, Claire’s been mentioning retirement. If she wants to sell off a few of her assets, it only makes sense this could be the first to go...I’m sorry.” She stops abruptly. “That was too much information. I didn’t mean to whine.”

I take the slip of paper with Claire’s number on it. “I’m going to see what I can do to help.”

She smiles again. “Bring the girls with you next time. We have cookies for the kids!”

I give her a wave, promising to bring the girls with me next time. Climbing back into the car, I sit and study the phone number for a second, debating the next course of action. Once I take another step forward, it’ll be too late to step back.

My phone jolts me out of my reverie, and I look down to find a number I don’t want to deal with. But if I don’t answer Anastasia now, she’ll just call back later—more irritated.

“Hello?” I ask, clipped.

“It’s her, isn’t it?”

“What?” I lean back in my seat and scan the inn. A sinking sensation forms in my gut. “Hello to you, too.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Anastasia snaps. “The reason you’re back home is Margaret Marshall.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard her voice; I called the inn.”

“Yes, she works at the inn. What about it?”

“You’re fucking her.”

“Anastasia.” My voice is hard. “I asked you to marry me a hundred times. You left me for good. You left us—me and Jess. You have a boyfriend, or at least, you did the last time I saw you. I remember vividly because you showed up two hours late to pick up your daughter because you were waiting for him.”

“Don’t get any ideas about staying in that godforsaken town.”

“What is it going to take?”

“What is what going to take?”

“I want to move back. I want to move home, and I want to bring Jess with me.” I tell her, firmly. “She’s enjoying school here, and she has friends. My family is here. Don’t make this difficult.”

“It’s because of her, isn’t it? You never stopped loving her.”

“What will it take?”

“You think a dollar amount will win me over?” Anastasia softens some, considering. “You can’t take my daughter away from me.”

“I’m not going to stop sending you money, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Anastasia gives a horrified gasp, but it’s fake enough that she doesn’t try to justify it.

“Think of a number,” I tell her. “Because if we have to go to court over this, you aren’t going to win.”

Then I snap the phone shut.

Before I get out of the car, I dial another number.

“Claire,” I say, once a woman’s voice answers. “My name is Tyler Daniels, and we need to talk.”