Page 7 of Like Home
Iclose the door behind Ryan and fan myself, despite the cool temperature outside.God he’s hot. I know a crush on him would be useless right now. I have way too much going on, and from the sound of it, he does as well.
I sigh and return to my newest book boyfriend, Raj. Tall, dark, handsome, and most importantly, fictional. Raj won’t be breaking my heart any time soon. I blush just thinking about the scene I was reading when Ryan came down the hallway. Raj was just about to have averyinteresting meal. I snicker at myself before avidly returning to the scene, getting lost in a romance that isn’t my own.
I’m so immersed in the book that I get completely startled when my best friend Stephanie texts me.
Steph:
Hey girl! How was the first solo night?
It was alright. Weird, and I miss Emma already, but I did it.
Proud of you. Do you want some company tomorrow night? We can binge Gilmore Girls.
It’s not even fall yet! You can’t watch GG any other time of year.
Yeah, but it’s your comfort show. You’re sad, so screw the rules. It’ll make you happy.
I’ll bring wine and chocolate.
Say less. Come over at 6? We can do dinner too.
Perf!
I smile as I set my phone down—Steph always knows how to cheer me up. She’s been by my side since we were ten years old. Her family moved to Lakeland from Washington the summer before 5th grade. We got seated next to each other in Mrs. Alvarez’s class, and she complimented my fuzzy pencil case. We’ve been inseparable ever since. Not even a teen pregnancy got between us. I’m thankful for her. Aside from Emma, she’s the only family I have left around here.
After work the next day, I make a stop at the local supermarket to grab some essentials for myGilmore Girlsmarathon with Steph. Namely, junk food to eat in keeping with Rory and Lorelei. I grab pastries, popcorn, candy, and ice cream before browsing the fresh produce aisle. I decide to make a good salad for lunch tomorrow because I know my stomach will be protesting all the sweets if I don’t.
I’m prodding the heirloom tomatoes when I hear, “Mommy!” I look over my shoulder and see Emma bounding toward me, theheels of her rain boots making loud clip-clopsagainst the concrete floor.
“Emma!” I reply with the same level of enthusiasm. I set my grocery basket down and bend to scoop her up. Her little legs go around my middle and I hug her tight. I breathe in her scent: Apple shampoo, sweet-scented lotion, and sweat from the school day. “Hi, baby girl. How was your day? Where’s Dad?”
“Daddy is getting us chicken for dinner tonight. I saw you and he told me I could say hi.”
She looks down—a maneuver I know means she’s fibbing. But before I can ask, I see a harried-looking Jared appear from one of the aisles. His head is whipping around frantically. “Jared!” I call, waving him over. Relief washes his face clear of the stress that had been there moments before.
“Oh, thank god.” He makes his way to us and scolds, “Emma Marie Forrester! You scared me half to death. No running off without telling me where you’re going!” He bends over, hands to his knees, and blows out a breath. Emma hides in my neck, clutching me closer.
I gently pull her back and look at her contrite face. “Emma, you lied to me and said your dad knew where you were. That is not okay. Next time, you tell the adult you’re with where you’re going. It’s not safe for you to run off.”
“Sorry, Mommy. Sorry, Daddy. I just got real excited when I saw you. I wasn’t running off ‘cause I was coming to you, Mommy,” she explains, tears welling in her eyes.
“Yes. But, Emma, I didn’t know you were with Mommy. We both have to know where you are. It helps keep you safe,” Jared says gently, much more calm than before.
“I’m sorry!” She cries, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. On instinct, Jared and I both hug her. She’s sandwiched between the two of us, Jared’s arms around Emma and me while I’m supporting her weight. Over Jared’s shoulder, I notice Ryan pushing a half-full shopping cart and looking at the watermelons.I meet his eye and he gives me a wave and a small smile that looks nothing like the wide grin he gave me yesterday.
I pull my eyes away from him and disentangle myself from the hug, setting Emma back on her feet. I squat down to her height, cupping her soft cheeks in my hands. “It’s okay, Emma. Now you know what to do if something like this ever happens again, right? You tell the adult you’re with where you’re going. Always.” She nods and sniffles. I glance back to where Ryan was standing and find an older woman in his place.
“Alright, Emma, come on, let’s go get our rotisserie chicken for dinner.” Jared puts a hand on her shoulder. I nod at him before pulling Emma in for a quick hug and kiss her cheek. They head off through the sparse crowd in the direction of the deli. I feel a pang of longing as I watch them walk away. It still doesn’t feel real that I have to go days without seeing my daughter in person.
I do my best to shake off the sadness, pick up my basket, and rush to grab the rest of what I need. I don’t want to be late and leave Steph hanging outside my house. I set my basket on the belt of the checkout line and put down the divider before grabbing an extra bag of spicy chips off the rack for Stephanie.
A velvety, slightly rough voice says behind me, “Your daughter is adorable. How old is she?”
I turn to find Ryan in line, unloading his groceries on the belt. “Thank you. She’s six,” I say, perusing the gum and candy above the belt to avoid meeting his eye. I don’t know how to talk to him when we aren’t working. Those other situations have a script. I know what I’m supposed to say, how I’m supposed to behave. When he talks to me like this, I feel like an actor thrust on stage who forgot her lines and doesn’t know what to do with her hands. To keep mine busy, I grab a pack of gum for Sherry. It’s always better to be on her good side and small gifts are a worthy sacrifice.
“So, was that the ex?” he asks casually, his eyes on the groceries he’s lining up on the belt. I note that he’s purchasing my favoritesnack, sea salt kettle chips, and am strangely pleased to see we have something in common.
“Yeah, that’s Jared,” I say, while we both step forward in line as the customer ahead of us loads her bags and heads out.
