Page 36 of From Nowhere

“Dad? Coming?” Lola calls.

Maren cranes her neck past me. “Is that your daughter?” Her grin relaxes into something more genuine, less like a sharp knife dripping blood.

“Yes,” I say.

Maren’s gaze returns to me. It’s expectant. And why wouldn’t she anticipate me introducing her to my daughter, who’s six feet away? The daughter for whom she made chocolate chip cookies.

Yet introducing her to Lola would be a disaster because my child has no chill.

“Well, it was really good seeing you. Be careful on your way down the trail. More accidents happen on the descent,” I say.

You’re an idiot!My inner voice speaks the truth.

Maren parts her lips, sliding her eyebrows up her forehead until they’re hidden beneath her hair scarf. “Is this separation of church and state?”

I cringe while relinquishing several tiny nods. “Not because of church.” I point to her. “It’s state”—I jab my thumb over my shoulder at Lola—“who cannot handle this.”

“Why am I church?”

I chuckle, scratching my jaw. “I don’t know. I’m just saying—”

“Who are you?” Lola chirps behind me.

Too damn late. I press my lips together and cringe.

Maren looks to me for guidance.

I deflate. “Lola, this is a friend of mine. She works at Cielo too.”

“Hi, Lola.” Maren waves. “I’m Maren.”

My cringe deepens while Maren unknowingly digs my grave. There’s a reason I called her my friend.

Lola remembers everything.

“You texted my dad.”

Maren gives me an apologetic smile, showing that realization happened a little too late on her part.

“You’re pretty. Isn’t she pretty, Dad?”

“Lola, speaking of pretty, it’s pretty crowded up here. We should make our way down so other people can have our spots and enjoy the view.”

“My mom died. And my dad’s lonely.”

For the love of god. Why? Justwhy?

I’m ready to roll her down this hill like a bowling ball.

With a nervous laugh, Maren’s gaze ping-pongs between me and my diarrhea-mouthed daughter.

“Maren knows your mom died, and she knows I’m so busy raising you that I have no time to be lonely.”

Maren’s smile fades.

I can’t win. I’m juggling my words to appease both these girls—women—and I’m fumbling and failing most spectacularly.

“I’m going to catch up to that dog.” Lola points to the lady with the yellow lab as she descends the trail.

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