Page 92 of My Merry Mistake
Grace walks the boy over to Toya, says something to her, then nods at a backpack sitting on the table. The boy sits and pulls a textbook from the bag. His sister straightens, looking around the space. When she spots another boy who looks younger but otherwise identical to the one at the table, she walks over to him, sits down and wraps an arm around him.
“Is that her other brother?” I ask as Tasha lays out a stack of napkins.
Tasha follows my gaze over to the kids and stands up straighter. “Yes, that’s Bodie. He’s taking it pretty hard that their dad is away again so soon.” She smiles. “They’re lucky to have Grace. She’s such a good girl.”
“I wonder who takes care of her,” I say absently.
Tasha laughs. “We do, when we can—although Grace is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. You good?” I nod as she walks away, leaving me standing there to watch Grace and Bodie.
It’s all I need to see to understand this little girl. Because once upon a time, I was her. In a lot of ways, I still am.
Grace talks to Bodie, who sits and looks up at her. I can see his love for her on his face, but she looks like she’s still lecturinghim. An eldest daughter with all the traits that eldest daughters have. Strong leader. High achiever. Responsible. A good role model. Conscientious. Organized.
Perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
But just because Grace is capable doesn’t mean she should always have to. Once in a while, it would be nice if someone took care of her.
“Wouldn't it be nice if someone took care of you for a while?”
I grew up with people who would’ve definitely taken care of me . . . but I gave them no opportunity. I wouldn’t even know how to let them. And I haven’t been letting them ever since.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Finn
Raya is quiet on the way back to her house.
Not that I expect her to open up to me, but I do wish I knew what she was thinking. She helped serve the kids lunch, then sat in the stands for an epic game of dodgeball. I took one to the side of the head and one between the legs (which the boys thought washilarious), but thankfully the kids don’t throw that hard.
She sat. She watched. She smiled sometimes, but mostly she seemed lost in thought. Given her state a few days ago, it’s likely going to take her body—and her mind—more than a couple of days to heal.
“Thanks for playing along today. You were a good sport.” I don’t want to force conversation, but the silence is killing me. Is she okay? Does she need electrolytes? Has she eaten enough?
Is there anyone else in her life asking her these things?
“It was nice,” she says. “Thanks for distracting me.”
“Anytime,friend.” I put a bit more emphasis on that last word.
Her smile is soft, but I see it.
“You’re really great with kids, too,” she says. “They love you.”
I smile. “Kids under ten and women over sixty-five, I’m telling ya. That’s my real fan base.”
Her phone buzzes. She checks it, then tucks it in her bag without responding. I’d love to ask about it, but I don’t.
And then I do.
“Real Estate King?”
She shakes her head at me, but amusement lines her brow. “You shouldn’t call him that.”
“You’re right,” I say. “He’s probably more of a duke.”
She looks out the window, but I catch her smile.
I keep my eyes on the road but decide to test the waters a bit. “Are you guys . . . serious?”
