Page 39 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector
Inside, the house is warm and familiar. Laughter drifts in from the living room: Noah’s voice, high and animated, followed by Liam’s quieter reply. Miss Taylor is curled up in the armchairwith a blanket across her lap, the twins nestled together on the couch, watching the end of a movie.
“Hey,” she says with a gentle smile. “Glad you’re back. The boys already ate, but there’s food in the fridge for you two.”
“Thanks,” I say, setting the tote and her suitcase by the stairs. Ava offers a faint smile and murmurs a quiet goodnight to the boys, who are too absorbed in their movie to do more than wave.
She hugs the quilt closer as she heads upstairs. I wait a beat, then head into the kitchen to grab the leftovers. A few minutes later, she returns without the quilt, her sleeves rolled up, her hair pulled into a loose knot.
I slide a plate of roasted vegetables and lemon chicken in front of her, then join her at the table. She picks up her fork and gives me a look that’s both grateful and tired.
“I should say something,” she says.
I raise a brow as she nudges a carrot across her plate. “I’m sorry for earlier. For putting you in that position with Brad. I know we said we weren’t doing the fake dating thing and then I just… made it happen.”
I shake my head. “No need to apologize. I meant it when I said I’d do it. You needed me, and I was glad to step in.”
A long breath leaves her, like she’s been holding it since we left his apartment.
She swallows then nods. “It just felt like the only way to make him stop.”
I nod slowly, letting a quiet settle between us. Then I glance at her suitcase and ask, “That ribbon on your suitcase. The purple one. You said it was from a ribbon-cutting ceremony?”
There’s something different in her eyes now. Clearer, brighter. Like a light turning on inside her.
“Yeah. Our first location. Open Pages.”
“That’s your nonprofit, right?”
She nods, sitting up straighter now, like just saying the name helps realign something inside her.
“It is. I started it a few years ago. We focus on creative literacy. We help kids use reading and storytelling to process what’s happening in their lives. But it’s also about making books actually feel fun and accessible, no matter where a kid lives or what their family can afford. Books were always my safe place growing up, so… it felt right. I wanted to build something that could give other kids that same kind of space.”
I listen. Not just to the words, but to how she says them. Her hands start to move a little more, her posture easing.
Her voice gets stronger. Like this is the part of her that shines through when she’s doing what she loves. Confident, animated, entirely herself.
And damn if it isn’t something to see.
She keeps talking, and I lean forward, pulled in.
“That’s amazing,” I say. And I mean it. “I remember you always loved books growing up.”
She laughs softly. “Yeah. I used to hide in the closet with a flashlight and a stack of library books.”
I chuckle, and she smiles for real this time.
“You should’ve seen the kids when the first bookmobile pulled up,” she adds quietly.
Some of them had never had a book before. Not one of their own. That… kind of changed me.”
I nod, my heart beating a little differently now. “Sounds like you’re changing them, too.”
She doesn’t answer that. Just looks down, like letting someone see this part of her is more vulnerable than anything else that’s happened today.
The quiet settles between us, but it feels comfortable. I glance toward the fridge, where Liam’s latest drawing of a lava dragon now has Ava added in: a stick-figure version, dark hair and a heart between us all.
She follows my gaze and smiles, her cheeks reddening slightly.
We don’t define whatever this is. Not yet. But she stays beside me a little longer, shoulder nearly brushing mine as we talk about nothing for a while. The kind of nothing that feels like something.
