Page 69 of The Overtime Kiss

“Sabrina,” I add, hating the sound of my own voice—and what I’m about to say. “That shouldn’t happen again.”

For a second—a split second—disappointment flickers in her eyes. But then it vanishes so fast it’s like it was never there at all.

“What shouldn’t happen again?” she says breezily, like she did over the summer, when we agreed to never speak of her 1001 confessions.

It’s a new truce. A harsh understanding. That we’ll both force amnesia to set in.

She sails out of the house, like it was nothing.

Like it didn’t happen.

Like I’ll have to pretend too.

And I know it’s for the best.

18

PUMPKIN ATROCITIES

Tyler

This is not awkward at all.

Not one bit, I swear.

I don’t feel like a complete jackass at the kitchen table the next evening, sitting across from the nanny, pretending I didn’t almost fuck her.

Nope. I’m not thinking about yesterday at all. I’m definitely not imagining whatcould have happenedas I stab a pumpkin with a tiny, ineffective carving knife.

I keep my head down while Sabrina teaches the kids how to make the world’s coolest jack-o’-lanterns. A reward, she’d said to Parker, for creativity in the science fair after school today. Not excellence, but creativity, and I appreciate her distinction.

I’d appreciate, too, if I could stop thinking about the yoga corner incident.

She seems to have moved on from that.

Her voice is light, easy—like she’s genuinely not thinkingabout what went down. “So if you slide it like this,” she says, leaning over to show Luna how to use the etching tool to make precise cuts, “you can carve some really cute whiskers for the seal face.”

Luna squeals a little in excitement. “Yes! And Dad, maybe this should be the new team logo since there really aren’t any actual sea dogs.”

“I’ll take that to management,” I say, gripping the serrated carving knife like it’s a weapon of war instead of an innocent Halloween tool.

Parker is locked in concentration, his tongue sticking out at the corner of his lips as he carefully slices the visor of his astronaut helmet. Sabrina leans close, guiding him as he works to carve clean lines.

Meanwhile, I…well, I’m creating something that looks—not gonna lie—exactly like the DickNose board my asshole teammates and I keep in the locker room. The one where we draw stick figures with dicks for noses to give each other a hard time. And here I am, apparently bringing that masterpiece into my own home, in front of my kids.

“Um, Dad?” Parker says, squinting at my pumpkin like it personally offends him. “That kind of looks like?—”

“A Basset Hound!” Sabrina cuts in, her voice a little too bright.

Parker tilts his head, skeptical. “Really?”

“Sure!” Sabrina nods way too hard. “They have those droopy faces, and, uh—look at the ears!”

I snort under my breath, but I’m grateful she jumped in before Parker could saydick facein front of Luna. Or, really, anyone. “Yeah. It’s a Basset Hound.”

Sabrina has already grabbed her phone from her pocket and googled Basset Hounds, showing the kids the pics of the droopy dog. “See?”

Parker shrugs likeokay, fair point.To me, Sabrina says, “You did a good job, Tyler.”

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