Page 76 of Between Never and Forever
I’m reading a flier about the town’s summer concert series on the water—a bunch of tribute and jam bands, including one that probably plays covers of my songs—when my phone chimes. I pull it out of my pocket but can’t read the screen with my sunglasses on. I pull the sunglasses down the bridge of my nose and unlock my phone screen.
Red
Your mutt has to pee.
So take her to go pee?
Come out here.
I roll my eyes. I’m not leaving my coffee just so I can walk down the block and be babysat while my dog pees in the grass.
Coffee isn’t ready yet. Just take her before she pees on your shoes again.
You’ll be right back. I’ll be fine.
The text bubbles pop up, then disappear, then pop up again, then disappear. I glance out the window and find Ziggy doing the puppy pee wiggle around Red as he frowns at his phone. I smirk. Just as I’m about to text him again, his response comes through.
I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.
I send him a poop emoji, then he puts his phone in his pocket and stalks away.
I bring my attention back to the bulletin board and scan some more fliers—a garage sale tomorrow on Chestnut Street, a lost cat named Nibbles, some kid home from college for the summer who wants to babysit, pet sit, house sit, or clean your pool—then a small gasp startles me. I glance toward the sound and find a little girl, maybe seven or eight, with wild brown curls staring up at me through wide, bright blue eyes.
I flick my eyes to the barista, then bring my finger to my lips. “Shhh.”
I point to the hallway with the bathrooms, out of sight of the barista and most of the customers. She nods quickly, then turns and skips toward the hallway. I follow.
As soon as we’re alone, she starts bouncing.
“Omigod are you? You are. You are, right? I mean you are but omigod, omigod.”
I laugh and nod. “I am.”
“Prodigious,” she whispers, and I laugh again.
“Prodigious? How old are you?”
“Seven and three quarters.”
“That’s a big word for a seven-year-old.”
“And three quarters,” she corrects, then grins wide, showing off two missing teeth. “I’m smarter than my dad.”
“You’re probably smarter than me, too,” I tell her, and she smiles bigger. “What’s your name, Miss Genius?”
“Brynnlee. You can call me Brynn. Some people call me Brynn. ‘Cept my dad. He usually calls me Boss.”
“I like Boss. Are you the boss?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” She glances over my shoulder. “There’s my dad! Can you sign one of my books? Dad! Can she sign one of my books?”
I’m all smiles when I spin to greet the girl’s dad, but the smile disappears immediately the moment my eyes land on the man in front of me.
He looks different, yet exactly the same, and for what feels like years, we just stare at each other. His shoulders are broader, his short sleeves snugger around his biceps. His sharp jaw is covered with a dark, neatly trimmed beard, but I can still see the little dimple in his chin, and a memory flashes through my head of pressing my index finger into it. His hair is shaggier than I’ve ever seen it, and the dirty blond has darkened, but the stern slash of his eyebrows is just like I remember, and his mouth is the same one I still see in my dreams.
He's holding a bag full of books, and I open my mouth to speak just as he places his hand on Brynn’s shoulder and moves her behind him. My stomach drops. The action is such a parental thing to do. Like he’s protecting her. I furrow my brow. Is he protecting her from me?
And then it hits me.
