Page 42 of Only for Love

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Two weeks later…

Emma

“Cally, Cally, Cally, honey.” I’ve been home for three hours of power sleep. “Please, baby, get up.”

If I don’t make it to class on time, Professor Dickhead will call me out as he’s done the past two times. The jerk swears by a three-strikes rule, and today is not the day I’m losing my place in Business Management 201.

But if I don’t get my precious baby out of bed, dressed, and into the car, we’ll never make it to the community college’s child care.

“Mama, don’t wanna.”

Oh, baby. Me neither. I’m exhausted. Funneling coffee. I overslept by three minutes, which shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but I have life planned to a T. I drop to my knees and cuddle her head. “I know that, snugglebug. But up, up, and”—I scoop her out of bed—“out.”

Droopy-eyed with bedhead, she rubs her face and looks around. “Sleepy.”

I nod. “Yuppers, me too.”

She looks around, acknowledging her new bedroom. The excitement on her face makes this fast move worth it.

“C’mon. Super-fast breakfast, then we gotta roll.”

Cally buries her head into my neck. “Want a muffin.”

“Good thing that’s what we have.”

I hustle her down to the kitchen, and she devours a banana muffin, finishing faster than I would’ve bet. Thank goodness. That shaves minutes off the schedule. We can totally do this. It’s my mantra. Cally and I are a team. We can survive anything, do anything, manage it on our own with just a few helping hands.

Like Cherry, who babysits at my place on Wednesday nights while I’m at Emerald’s, and my parents, who watch Cally for any shift I can pick up at the Delightful Diner, where I sling pancakes. Who knew it was possible to hate the smell of butter and batter.

I groan for so many reasons. But this morning, there’s no time to lament barely getting by. Because if I do that, we fail, and right now, we’re so close to making it with more than just a couple of dollars a paycheck.

Cally’s in her clothes, trying to brush her teeth, and batting away my help. She’s like me—a little stubborn but going to do it on her own if it kills her—and I love that about her.

“Clean!” Teeth bared and lips smiling, she nods for approval to hop off the stool.

“Super clean, cuddlebug.” I hook her around the waist, grab my bag, granola bar, and coffee, and we’re out the door.

I check my phone after she’s in her car seat and I’m stuck at a red light. “We’re totally going to make it on time.”

Cally beams from the backseat. “’Cause we’re magical!”

“You know it.”

The kid steals my heart every day. And maybe she’s right. Magic might let me make it into class before Professor Dickhead does his daily dickheaded duties.

Seventeen minutes later, I screech into class after dropping off Cally a few buildings over.

“Very close, Miss Kingsley.” Professor Dickhead shuts the door behind me and launches into a verbatim recounting of exactly what the textbook read.

My lungs pound because I ran across campus, but I made it. I tumble into my seat. All I have to do is keep this up another semester or two, combined with a couple of online classes, and my godforsaken no-pay internship will turn into a real dollars-in-the-bank-account job that pays more than school credits and gift card bonuses.

I’m in this for the future, for Cally. So I can raise my baby girl and eventually have a college degree and job security. But until then, I’m completely exhausted, doing the best I know how.

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