Page 41 of If Love Had A Manual

He looks like he’s having an allergic reaction when he groans, “Jesus, Lena, don’t cry.”

Tess stifles a chuckle at my side. “You’re such a softie.”

“I’m not,” I manage, blinking rapidly. “I just didn’t know.”

Tess looks between us then. “Where’s Rosie’s mom?”

We both freeze.

“Tess,” I hiss sharply, embarrassment flooding my cheeks.

“What?” She shrugs, genuinely confused. “I just wondered.”

Wes speaks first, quiet but direct. “Rosie’s mom passed away. Her dad, too.”

Her face crumples. “Oh, I—I didn’t know. Sorry.”

He gives her a gentle nod. “It’s alright.”

To fill the awkward silence, I softly clarify, “Wes isRosie’s uncle. She lives with him now.”

“So, you’re kinda like her dad?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, brows pinched. “Something like that.”

Tess is quiet for a moment, holding Rosie with newfound care. They’re just two girls, both a little lost, motherless in their own way, and finding comfort in one another’s presence.

“You should tell Rosie stories.” I know she’s talking to me, but her eyes haven’t left Rosie’s face.

“Stories?” Wes asks, eyes darting between us.

“Lena always told me stories about our mom,” she explains. “She turned them into fairytales. I don’t remember her, but the stories help. Maybe Rosie would like that too.”

He turns to me, surprise etched in those dark amber eyes. “I didn’t know about your mother.”

I wave him off while I try to smother the ache behind my ribs. “I didn’t say anything.”

He rubs the back of his neck, a shadow of guilt passing over his face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You couldn’t have known.”

A gentle quiet falls, broken only by Rosie’s murmured babbles.

Wes folds his arms and clears his throat, nodding toward the park exit. “We were headed for ice cream. Want to join?”

Tess’s eyes instantly brighten, teenage apathy vanishing in an instant. “Really? Please, Lena?”

“Dad’s going to have a fit.”

Wes smiles, a conspiratorial warmth in his gaze. “Oh, you’re one of those people.”

I shift on my feet. “What people?”

“People who say no to kids.”

Now I’m offended. “I am not. I’m practically Mary Poppins.” I throw my hands up, refusing to be the kind of person he’s accusing me of being. “Fine. Ice cream it is. But we’re out of here in an hour, Tess. You’ll be grounded for life if I don’t get you home.”

She fist-pumps the air, startling Rosie into a delighted giggle.

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