I’d learned a lot about the practice of mindfulness in the last year since I found myself pregnant with twins and my ex-boyfriend started channeling his inner Cheryl Strayed. It was what helped me cope many a night when I thought I would be taken under by all the things I stressed about as a single mother. And it was complete, utter bullshit in moments such as the one I was currently experiencing.

Take a deep breath in, I imagined the little app on my phone saying to me. Let it out through your mouth, relax your muscles as the air leaves your body. Focus on your fingers. Are they relaxed? Let the air flow through your fingers.

The only finger that I was currently using was my middle one, aimed at the wall. On the other side of that wall was my main bathroom. Inside of that bathroom was my biggest client. Also, my biggest pain in the ass client. Yes, it was entirely possible for them to be the same thing.

Monica St. James was a serial dater. She was also a serial day-drinker. Everything was an emergency with her, especially under the influence of the wine coolers she loved. So on a Saturday, when I wasn’t working at the salon, and she had someone swipe right on Tinder, the state of her roots became a capital E, fire engine red, sirens blaring emergency.

I’d said no. I’d said that I didn’t have anyone to watch my twins, Piper and Jacob. But then she called. And started crying, promising me that she’d never do it again, and that she’d tip me huge. Those were her exact words.

“Oh, Brooke, you’re just the only person I’d trust with my hair. And I’ll tip you huge. Huge. Like, you could hire a nanny huge.”

That was before she showed up buzzed, my children decided that they were going to empty all the books from the bookshelves in the family room, and I realized I had crusted spit-up in my hair. Monica was singing in the bathroom, off-key and definitely off-beat, while I changed Piper’s diaper. Her fourth poopy diaper of the day, not that I was counting.

Piper cooed at me and I smiled. She had the same dark brown hair as me, and the same dark chocolate eyes. Sometimes I couldn’t believe she was mine. That I had two healthy, wonderful children who were always excited to see me when I walked back in the room. Like dogs. Except messier and louder and a helluva lot more expensive.

“Brooooooke,” Monica sang from the bathroom. “Are you coming?”

“In a minute!” I yelled, then cursed under my breath while Piper tried to roll over mid-wipe. “Where the eff are you, Julia?”

“Ju Ju Ju Ju,” Piper babbled happily.

“Yeah, topolina, Auntie Julia will be here any minute.” I pulled Piper up and made sure she had her feet under her. My hands stayed by her while she wobbled, but then she grabbed the edge of the couch and took off. Behind me, there was a crash and Jacob started wailing. The whimper that came out of me was automatic, a sound of emotional surrender that I was very used to making the last ten months.

The first few months of motherhood were a sleep-deprived blur, a never-ending cycle of feeding and changing and cleaning bottles and falling face-first into bed for the blissful moments that they both slept. If it hadn’t been for my sister Julia and her husband Cole stepping up to help me, Lord have mercy, even my mom, I’d probably be rocking in a corner in a padded cell somewhere. And in times like this, when—despite my sarcasm-laced front, my deeply embedded Italian roots that allowed me to curse creatively in front of my tiny, innocent children—I was unable to say no to the drunk woman in my bathroom, I knew I could count on my big sister to come and save my ass.

Just as I was standing up to go check on Jacob, there was a tentative knock on the door.

“Julia, just come on in,” I called, leaning down to scoop up Jacob, who was just sniffling a little now. “What’s the matter, boo bear? Did you conk your head?”

I ran my hands over the soft, downy strands of hair on top of his head, a lighter shade than mine and Piper’s. He nuzzled into my shoulder and I rubbed a hand over his back, the solid warmth of him calming the tsunami waves of stress inside of me. Jacob was my little love bug, the one who always wanted to cuddle me, wrap his chubby arms around my neck, whereas his sister was constantly on the move. Demon child, as I liked to call her affectionately. Couldn’t even really be mad at her, since every single one of her character traits came straight from yours truly. The front door closed, but the steps through my front room weren’t Julia’s, they were heavy and long.

Just as I was contemplating using a kitchen stool as a weapon, the heavy-stepped person walked into the room, and my jaw dropped open.

“Michael,” I said dumbly, like a big dumb idiot. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Michael Whitfield was the kind of handsome that made me twitchy. It was easier to ignore when I’d been a whale of a pregnant person and he oh-so-kindly informed me that I held no appeal whatsoever to him because I was on the verge of single motherhood. Okay, fine, that wasn’t exactly what he said, but he’d been pretty clear that our relationship was platonic.

He smiled down at me, all straight blinding teeth and dark, scruffy face, the white t-shirt he wore underneath a dark gray hoodie stretched across his leanly muscular chest in a way that made me feel a little sweaty. “I’m the cavalry.”

“You are not.”

His eyebrows lifted at my snappish response, but no, no, nope, all the no in all the world. “I was with Julia when she got your text and they already had plans.”

I shifted Jacob in my arms and he peered around me at the tall, handsome man currently annoying his mommy. Well, he wasn’t annoying me, exactly. But I was annoyed in general and now Michael got to be my scapegoat. Yay for him. “Why didn’t she tell me that?”

Piper waddled over and gripped her chubby hands into Michael’s dark jeans. I was just about to apologize when he leaned over and picked her up with the kind of ease that had me speechless.

Effing speechless.

Me.

Michael clucked his tongue at Piper and she squealed, grabbing the sides of his face in delight. “She didn’t need to tell you. I offered up my services without them asking. Didn’t want them to miss the movie.” He glanced over at me and gave me a crooked smile when Monica started singing again in the bathroom. “Besides, it doesn’t seem like you’re in a position to get picky.”

I huffed and set Jacob down, handing him a block from off the counter. “Fine. This’ll probably take me about an hour and a half. When her color’s setting, I can check in on you.”

He glanced around my house, only lighting briefly on the mess that was just everywhere. “No problem. We’ll have no trouble getting acquainted.”

It chafed, I realized as I walked to the bathroom and started mixing the peroxide for Monica’s highlights while she chattered happily. My pride chafed at this man swooping in and giving me the assistance that I so badly needed. Objectively, I knew that it wasn’t actually different than when Julia helped me. But she was my sister. My blood. She never judged me when I’d gone five days without a shower and I smelled like a frat house after a rave. She didn’t judge me when I broke down crying because I was so bloody tired that I couldn’t see straight. When I called Piper Demon Child after she ripped a chunk of my hair out, she never questioned that I loved my daughter so fiercely that it almost overwhelmed me.

But Michael was different.

He was a man. I rolled my eyes, because obvs. But it was more than that. He was a good looking, charming guy who hit all the usual boxes that I would need checked to feel the stupid butterfly-swooping feeling that I used to get before I met and started dating Kevin.

Monica kept babbling away in the chair, and I painted on the purple goop, wrapped the foils around her hair, like I’d done for years. I barely needed to be awake in order to do highlights, so my brain just kept rattling and wrapping around why it bothered me so much that Michael was the one to play white knight for me.

It wasn’t like I was some man-hater, despite the fact that my boyfriend of years ditched me three weeks after finding out I was not just pregnant, but pregnant with twins. No, I really didn’t hate men at all. Kevin, said ex-boyfriend, was a different story, of course. I’d imagined all sorts of different ways to creatively castrate him if he ever dared show his face again. Maybe part of it was that Michael wasn’t a known entity to me, I didn’t really know much about him at all, actually. Other than he was good friends with my brother-in-law, he stepped up to help a pregnant woman move into her new house when he’d never even met her before, wore a suit exceptionally well, and had a brother with hair more glorious than my own.

That was it.

“You okay, doll?” Monica asked, giving me a curious look in the mirror. Her face looked younger than her forty-four years, probably the product of expensive cosmetic creams and a healthy dose of Botox. While I wrapped the last foil, she took another sip of the wine she’d stashed in her purse.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled at her and spun the chair around. “Just a little tired.”

She reached forward and patted my hand while I sat on the closed toilet lid. Our knees brushed when she turned the chair to face me more fully, but neither of us went to move. I’d known Monica for so long, and despite the complete lack of respect for my schedule and her unfortunate drinking habits, she was a sweet woman, generous and funny. Which is why I was giving up my Saturday afternoon for her.

“Your babysitter sounded hot.” She waggled her eyebrows at me and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sshh. He’ll hear you, and Lord knows he does not need his ego boosted.”

“Boyfriend?” Her tone was shameless, as was the gleam in her eyes.

I stood and scoffed. “Absolutely not. He’s about as much boyfriend material as I am model material right now.” Then I shrugged. “He’s just … a friend. Helping me out in a bind.”

Monica had the decency to look chagrined. “Honey, I’m so sorry about that.”

Not sorry enough to not guilt me into doing your hair on my day off, I thought with a mental eye roll. “I know. And it’s fine. I’m the one who said you could come over. I’m just sorry my bathroom isn’t quite up to par with the salon.”

I loved my house. Lovvvvved my house. It was the first place I’d owned, and having my own space for me and my little munchkins wasn’t something I took for granted. But the full bathroom off the kitchen wasn’t exactly ideal for doing someone’s hair, even if it was nice to be under the same roof as my kids while making some extra money.

Monica waved off my apologies and took another drink of her wine. “Did I show you my date’s picture from tonight?”

I laughed and checked under her foil. About ten more minutes and she’d be ready to have it washed. “Yeah. He’s a cutie.”

There were no screams coming from outside the bathroom, and I checked my phone to make sure Michael hadn’t texted me. While I washed out Monica’s hair and used my blow dryer and round brush to style it for her, we talked about mindless things that kept both of us laughing. My mood was so much better as I took Monica’s payment about thirty minutes later. No mindfulness tricks, no alcohol to calm the blood in my veins. Just laughter and a little break from my kids.

She left with a promise to text me when she got home safely, just like I always made her do if she’d had a drink before leaving, and I sank into the black chair. My elbows braced on the armrests and I took a moment to relax before going in search of my offspring and their unexpected babysitter.

Without meaning to, I stared at my tired reflection in the large framed mirror across from me. What did Michael see when he looked at me? I’d already thought about this when it came to Julia, even my parents. They probably felt a certain level of pity for my situation. But they also loved my children ferociously. Even my parents, who were adequate at best for Julia and I, seemed to have discovered a surprising love for my children since they were born.

But they still looked at me saw Brooke Rossi, the girl that climbed out her bedroom window in high school and got her jeans caught on the drain pipe and was subsequently grounded for a month. They saw the girl who moved into a one-bedroom shoebox with her slightly lazy boyfriend as a giant middle finger to her wealthy parents. Yes, I had kids now and I was doing it by myself, but they still saw Brooke.

Michael was a different category though. A handful of years older than my twenty-five, but still in the same checkbox on a survey, if I had to guess. My fingers dragged across the dark circles under my eyes, the skin free of makeup and my hair devoid of product (unless you considered spit up product, which I did not, thank you very much, Piper) and clothes only a half-hearted attempt at cute when I realized I couldn’t convince Monica to stay away. If he’d met me two years ago, he’d have seen the Brooke that didn’t take any shit, the Brooke that rocked out to Florence & the Machine at a red light, no matter how many people could hear my awful singing.

Now he was seeing Brooke that just wanted to curl up and take a nap, take a shower that lasted long enough for two rounds of shampoo and then get back in bed for ten straight hours. But that was a person he still stepped up to help without any expectations.

So maybe that meant I had a new friend now. Using my toe against the cabinet, I pushed the chair around so I faced the bathroom door. For another minute, I sat there and stared at the wood grain until I heard a happy squawk come from the direction of the twins’ bedroom. My smile was immediate, no matter how insane they made my life, they were mine.

As quietly as I could, I tiptoed down the hallway toward the sound of both of my children laughing. The hardwood floor just to the right of the bedroom door creaked horribly, which I learned the hard way one night when I tried to ninja sneak out of their room after putting them down for naps. Piper’s head had popped back up like a mother effing jack in the box. Little shit. Deftly, I avoided it, and peeked my head around the corner so I could watch what was making them so happy.

And my uterus exploded.

Kablowy.

Michael was laying on the floor of their room, muscular arms stretched out on either side of him. The twins were on each arm, and he took a deep breath, curling them into his body like he was doing a workout with weights, not my squirmy little children. They giggled, one of the most marvelous sounds I’d ever experienced thus far in my life, and started crawling over him when he didn’t extend his arms back out.

“Ugh,” he groaned, oblivious to me watching. “What does your mom feed you? You weigh a ton.”

“Tun tun tun,” Piper chanted, smacking the sides of Michael’s face. He laughed and ruffled the hair on her head.

“Aren’t you a smart little peanut.” He grinned at her, then sputtered when she tried to lay a slobbery kiss over his mouth.

Okay. Girlfriend was not about to start getting more action than her mom.

Devil child, I am telling you.