Page 31 of Selfie

“My thoughts as well, but my ex-wife is already remarried, so”—he shrugs—“in the court of public opinion, I’m well within my right to talk to pretty women at the gas pump.”

“Sorry.” I step onto the median between the pumps and hold out my hand. “I’m Spencer. Please excuse me while I try to unwedge my foot from my mouth.”

He laughs again. “No, I think you’re smart. You can make it up to me, though.”

“How so?”

“Can you watch my pump while I grab some snacks?”

“Sure. Of course.”

“Thanks. Be right back.” He winks before jogging toward the shop.

The fuel dispenser’s loud click indicates my tank is finally full. Fantastic. It only cost me a month’s worth of groceries. I patiently wait for Caleb’s side of the pump to make the same click. I don’t know how watching his fuel pump is actually helpful unless his truck spontaneously bursts into flames and he needs immediate intervention. Morbid thoughts now stuck in my mind, I’m searching the premises for the emergency shutoff valve and a fire extinguisher when my phone rings.

Can’t be Nathan. Now that I’m nearing the end of my second week of work, he’s warming up to me a little. He’s given me access to his calendar, but it’s view only. I can’t actually schedule anything for him. He grunts a simple “hello” on occasion when he passes my desk. But that’s the extent of his warmth. This unknown number is doubtfully Nathan calling.

“Hello?”

“Good morning. Is this Spencer Riley?”

I omit correcting the woman on the phone. Legally, I’m Spencer Riley-Brenner. But seeing as I haven’t seen or spoken to my dad since he left us when I was five years old, I don’t see the purpose of carrying his last name. There’s just the pesky task of starting a legal name change to drop the hyphen. Who has time? “Speaking.”

“Hi, dear.” Thedeartips me off to her age. Immediately, I know who this is even before she explains. “This is Ruby Barber, Claire’s grandmother.”

“Oh, yes. Hi there. Thank you for calling.”

“Of course. From my understanding, the girls have planned a little sleepover this weekend. Are you okay with that?”

I sandwich the phone between my shoulder and ear as I pull the nozzle from my gas tank and replace the cap. “I am, I just won’t be able to host. Building maintenance is working on repairs to my closet this weekend. I just don’t want strange men in and out of the apartment while the girls are there. But I’m happy to host Claire as soon as it’s fixed.”

“Oh, don’t fret. I’m happy to have Charlie here. I have a three-bedroom in Ellis Springs. There’s a community pool where the girls can swim.”

“Charlie will love that. She’s such a fish. She’d live in the water if she could.”

“I hope I’m not overstepping, but may I just say what you’re doing is incredible?”

“Sorry?” A glimpse of Caleb in line at the register momentarily distracts me. Goodness he’s muscular. I’m not a small girl, but I bet he could easily hoist me over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. I shake the thought away.Enough, Spencer.The last time I thought I found a prince and almost kissed him, he turned into the icy toad that’s now my boss.

I’m not ready to date again anyway. When I do start dating, I want it to be for real, not just to try to create as much space between Jesse and me as possible. I admit, that idea has occurred to me, and not out of spite. Just so I’m not tempted to run back.

“What you’re doing with Charlie. I hope you don’t mind, but Claire filled me in. You, so young, taking care of your baby sister. It’s a tremendous sacrifice on your part.”

“Thank you, that’s kind. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You know Charlie and Claire have that in common—they both lost their mothers too young. I think that’s why they’re such fast friends.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine the pain of losing a daughter.” I only know what it's like to lose a mother. It’s hard to imagine anything worse, except losing Charlie, but my head can't even go there. I wouldn’t survive it.

“Not my daughter,” Ruby says, her chipper tone dropping just slightly. “Claire’s father is my son.”

“I’m still sorry. I think it’s wonderful Claire has you guys.”

“Thank you, dear. And also, while I have you, Charlie told Claire you guys are willing to take Spike. Is that true?”

I lean back against my car which nearly burns the back of my exposed arms. The scorching Vegas sun is unforgiving. It’s a different kind of hot than Miami—dry and unrelenting. There’s no water here to absorb the heat. “What spike?”

“No, his name is Spike. He’s our male guinea pig.”

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