Page 60 of A Game Plan for Love

My chest warms as I watch the joy on my daughter's face.

A clear my throat and Maren startles. “Fuck!” she yells, clutching her chest. She meets Nora’s wide eyes. “Shit.”

Nora laughs, holding out her palm, and Maren slaps a few bills into her awaiting hand. My daughter hasn’t noticed my presence yet, but when Maren stands and Nora follows, I gasp in disbelief, and that draws her attention.

Is my daughter wearing overalls?

“Mommy!” Nora runs over in bright pink overalls and a purple t-shirt with a unicorn and wraps her arms around my leg. She transfers her dirt onto my bare leg. “Come look!”

She takes my hand and drags me over to the planter where she and Maren were working. A small sapling stands crooked in the pot, but Nora beams with a bright smile at her handiwork.

“This is my tree,” she says proudly. “It’s going to grow oranges one day.”

“Is that so?”

She nods, and then drags me in another direction. Tomato plants vine up trellises along the wall, and there’s a large wicker basket full of vegetables.

“I picked these.” She tries to lift the basket, and Maren helps her carry it. “We get to take it home.”

“Why don’t you tell your mom what you had for dinner?” Maren prods with a coy smile.

“Pretty pasta!” she screams, like it’s the world's best creation. “It was a rainbow.”

I give Maren a look in hopes of an explanation, and she winks. “Nora? Why don’t you go inside and wash your hands, and I’ll bring in all of your veggies with your mom.”

“Okay!”

Nora sprints out the door and into the main house.

“Pretty pasta is pasta primavera,” Maren says with a shit-eating grin, “A small little fib, but she scarfed it down.”

Maren hands me a basket of picked herbs, and we work our way into the house. Nora is at the kitchen sink, standing on a stool to wash her hands, and I quickly pull out my phone to take a photo of her.

She looks so fucking cute in her pink overalls.

“Thank you,” I whisper to Maren, my heart overflowing with gratitude.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” she grimaces, then leads me to a corner in her living room.

Dozens of bags are stacked atop each other, and clothes and toys spill out of the bags. There are books and craft supplies, and at least four large stuffed animals.

“What is all that?”

“We went on a shopping spree…”

My stomach plummets with the price tag associated with the amount of things in the corner. Nora runs over to the bags and pulls out a sticker book and lifts it to show me. I offer her a watery smile.

This must have cost them hundreds of dollars. That’s money I don’t have.

“I-I,” I choke on my words, “I can pay you back for this.”

I’m running through the mental math and if I keep a tight budget the next few months I can make it work. Nora’s smile is what prevents me from asking Maren to return the items. She’s so excited—so grateful—it rots my insides with guilt I can’t give this to her.

Maren offers me a small smile and places her hand on my bicep. “Declan gave us his credit card.”

“What?”

“He wanted to make her first sleepover special,” she says softly, her voice more gentle than I’ve ever heard from her. “I give him a lot of shit, but he’s one of the most caring people I’ve ever met.”

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