“My mom is getting engaged.”
I almost tripped over my sneakers.
“Oh?” I asked, trying not to sound more curious than I should be as Maddie’s nanny and–perhaps–confidant. Ryan’s ex-wife was getting engaged.Did Ryan know?I had only rarely seen Ryan and his ex together, but they seemed to have a good relationship–hemustknow.
“Yeah,” Maddie said, shrugging, then looked up at me. “Do you think we could make something for me to wear to her engagement party? It would have to be fancy…” she said cautiously, as if she suspected my answer would be no.
But…
Ryan’s ex-wife–Maddie’s mom–was getting engaged, and Maddie wanted to make something to wear to the engagement party. Had that been at the root of her sudden outburst? It made sense.
Guilt rose suddenly in me. She had asked me for help. Maddie trusted me. And I was lying to her. What would she think if she knew I was…datingher dad?
“Yes,” I said. “We’ll have to get creative, but we can figure something out.”
Her face lit up. “Really?”
“Sure. Like I said, we’ll have to get creative, but…” I thought of the skirt pattern we were using. We’d be making this first project in a cute cotton print, but if we made it in a fancier fabric, and if I helped with a zipper instead of an elastic waist… “I think we can definitely find a way for you to debut your very first design at the engagement party.”
“Thank you, Flora,” she said, as if I had told her she’d won a million dollars and could eat all the ice cream she ever wanted. “Can we do a sewing lessonnow?”
Maddie didn’t have to worry about me interrupting her flow today. She sewed and I supervised, but my mind was elsewhere.
Maddie’s mom–Ms. Talford–Tally–was getting engaged.
Ryan had almost kissed me that night in the kitchen after his work dinner, but he’d stopped himself. He’d sent me home, apologized, and never spoken of it again…
Until Friday.
Until Friday, when I kissed him and he let me, and he’d invited me over and made me dinner, and took me to his bedroom…
Was it after he learned of his ex-wife’s pending engagement?
The thought made my skin feel tight.
Did it matter?
It shouldn’t. Itdidn’t, I told myself as I admired Maddie’s neat rows of stitches, straight and curving and angled. Even if I was just a–a what, aseven-year-delayed rebound?–it didn’t matter. This was just a summer-long dream, a fling to take my mind off of my depressing job search.
I said nothing about it when Ryan walked in the door at 5:15, Maddie greeting him from the kitchen table where we sat together hunched over my phone, scrolling through skirt design inspiration pictures. He said nothing when I excused myself, telling Maddie I’d see her tomorrow, and that she should make a couple sketches for us to think about. Daniel, the driver, said nothing as I slipped into the black car Ryan had just vacated, the scent of his cologne still lingering, my romance novel on the seat next to mine. I must have left it there this morning.
I flushed. Ryan had obviously seen it. Had he read it?
Then I noticed the scrap of paper sticking out from the top. It was certainly notmybookmark; Edie was always getting on my case for dog-earing books.
I fanned through the book to the bookmark, a receipt.86th Street Dry Cleaners.I plucked it from between the pages and flipped it over, but found nothing.
Buzz, buzz.
I put the receipt aside, holding the book open with one finger while I dug through my tote with my other hand for my phone.
Ryan. My heart thumped heavily.
For tonight,the text read, and my eyes widened. I opened my book, already suspecting what I would find.
I was right.
…she sighed as her fingers slipped over her burning center, her silk nightgown feeling coarse against her sensitive skin…
