Page 136 of Even Beneath the Stars

Okay, not a lot of planning. But still. He didn't just chuck them in his own trash.He cares enough to do that.

I put the socks back on his bed with a sticky note attached:cleaning staff must have accidentally thrown these out. Rescued them foru. You're welcome.

Then yesterday, I left a poetry masterpiece in his guitar case that I wrote for him on the other side of a kid's Valentine card with a smiling train and the words "I Choo Choo Choose you":

Hey Lil' Boo Thang,

Your absence makes my heart go clang.

I'd write a song, but here's the deal—

You're the only one who makes it real.

So quit the broody, tragic act,

And bring that fine ass back.

I was walking past the upstairs sitting room when I caught him reading it. He looked up just as he'd turned the note over to the side with the train.

I'm almost positive the corner of his lip quirked up on one side. Then when he looked up, I arched an eyebrow at him in a way I intended to be sassy, but suspect was borderline creepy. Either way, he just scowled at me and made a show of balling up the note and tossing it over his shoulder behind the couch.

I considered leaving it at that. But if I left it there, he might think I was giving up. That I’d changed my mind. That maybe he really is too much or not enough or whatever lie he’s convinced himself is true. And I can’t let him believe that. I’m not here to make him love me back; I just need him to know he’s still worth loving. Worth fighting for.

I want him to find reminders everywhere that someonedidn’twalk away.

So I went back half an hour later and retrieved the crumpled note (you're welcome, Rockwell cleaning staff), wrote a retaliatory poem beneath the original one, and left it in the same place I'd put the original.

Hey again Lil' Boo Thang,

You think you can ditch me that fast?

A lil' note-toss, make me the past?

Nah, babe—I'm still right here,

Armed with rhymes and zero fear.

So brace yourself, bae—

I've got plenty more.

(Spoiler alert: check under your door)

Then I slipped a strawberry Pop-Tart under the door with a sticky note on the foil packaging that said :"Question: What's a Pop-Tart's favorite type of music? Answer: Jam sessions."

And again, his reaction is what I've come to expect.

Stupid stubborn crickets.

Then my day goes from bad to worse when Denise asks to meet with me in her office.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Maggie

They've found a new permanent nanny for Finn.

Marta is a kind, no-nonsense, middle-aged woman who warmed to Finn within hours. She's shadowed me a couple of times and spent a day and overnight in the East Wing. And Finn seemed to really like her.

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