Page 20 of Pucked Up Plans
Walsh’s eyes scan my face. Unsure of what he seeks, I tense under his scrutiny. The cobalt color deepens the longer he stares. When he finds what he’s searching for—or realizes his stare is making me uncomfortable—he drags his eyes away.
An uneasy silence ascends the room, and I wonder how my comments about dolls seemed to have gotten us so off track. I can’t help but wonder what’s running through Walsh’s head, butmuch as I want to know what he’s thinking, I’m equally glad he can’t read what’s overtaking my brain.
After what seems like forever, he finally glances back my way. He goes to speak, but the girls return, my daughter leading the way this time.
“Mom, Lennon and me are hungry. Can we have a ’nack?”
“You had one not too long ago. But if Walsh and Lennon can stay for a little while, I can heat food for an early dinner,” I suggest.
Lennon, standing beside Aubrey, voices, “You got anything besides chili?”
“Lennon Victoria,” Walsh chides from his position on the couch, his voice full of mortification. “Where the heck are your manners?”
She feigns thinking about the question as if she’s going to give him an answer. Instead, her little shoulders raise in a shrug.
“Pretty sure I’ve got some chicken nuggets in the freezer I can cook for you.”
My girl faces her friend. “Mickey Mouse ones. Yum. So good.” To prove her point, she rubs her hand over her tummy.
“Tate, no. You do not have to serve her dinner. It’s probably time we head home. I happen to like Mimi’s chili.”
My eyes meet Walsh’s. Somehow the awkwardness from earlier has subsided. Also, I don’t want him to leave yet.
“If it’s because your mother’s expecting you at her house, then we’ll do it another night, but if it’s for any other reason…”
Lennon interjects, “We live at Mimi’s house. She not ’pecting us.”
Walsh’s palm slaps his forehead. “I swear, child. I don’t know what to do with you sometimes.”
I probably shouldn’t encourage this kind of behavior from his kid, but I can’t help it. And as I mentioned, I want him to stay.
“Chicken nuggets for Lennon, chili for Aubrey and me. Walsh, what will it be?”
Three sets of watchful eyes settle on Walsh, patiently awaiting his answer. Some of us more than others.
An internal debate wars in his head, and my breath stills as we wait for his decision.
Throwing his hands in the air, he declares, “What the heck? If you’re sure you don’t mind, we’ll stay.”
I don’t have a chance to confirm when the shrieks of two little girls ring out in the small space.
Can’t say I’m not celebrating the same way on the inside.
CHAPTER 7
WALSH
I’m not sure what makes me agree to stay, why I can’t just say no to Lennon, pick her up, and carry her out to the car.
Other than I have no intention of going home right now.
“What can I do to help?” I ask Tate as she shoos the girls back to Aubrey’s room while she prepares dinner.
“Keep me company in the kitchen.”
“I can do that.”
I follow her to the back of the small condo. There’s not much to the place. I’m guessing it has two bedrooms, and I can’t imagine they’re big if the size of the living room—and now the kitchen—is any indication. I noticed a few boxes against one wall in the living room, but the kitchen seems all unpacked.
