Lily shifted her weight, and the movement caught my eye. She was stronger than she looked—holding a squirming toddler, steadying the stroller with her foot, and somehow making all of it look effortless. There was a softness to the way she bent her head to talk to her son, a kind of patience you didn’t see much anymore.
“Sorry if he’s too much,” she said, laughing as Noah tugged at the bag again. “He’s in a ‘touch everything’ phase.”
“It’s alright,” I said, looking at her instead of the bag. “He’s got a good grip.”
She smiled, and this time it was different. Less shy, more real.
A pickup rumbled past, throwing a fresh wave of dust over the sidewalk. Lily blinked, then stepped back, sheltering Noah from the grit with her body.
I found myself wanting to say something, anything to keep the moment going. “He’s got your smile,” I said, before I could think better of it.
She looked at me, startled, then down at her son. “Everyone says that, but I think it’s his dad’s,” she said. There was a quick shadow over her face, there and gone.
I wanted to say something comforting, but the words stuck. Instead, I offered Noah the handle of my bag, which he gripped with both hands and tried to lift. I pretended he was actually helping.
“Strong kid,” I said, glancing at Lily.
“He’ll be bench-pressing me by kindergarten,” she said, her voice lighter again.
“Why hasn’t your landlord fixed your faucet?” I heard myself ask. It wasn’t my business but I decided to make it my business.
She hesitated, then grinned. “Oh, he’ll get to it eventually. He’s about a hundred years old and probably has a laundry list of other complaints in the building. I put a bucket under the sink for now.”
Hmm. No. That wouldn’t do. “Where do you live?” The question probably would have gotten her hackles up normally, but she was distracted by Noah squirming to be let down.
“On the corner of Maple. Above the old pharmacy.”
“Perfect. I’ll be there at seven. That work for you?”
“Wait, what?”
“I’ll fix your faucet. No reason you should wait when I can easily do it.”
“Um, no. You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to. But I want to.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “Because.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “That sounds like an answer Noah would give me.”
“Little man knows what’s up.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Why?”
“Well, I mean . . . because.”
“Oh, you sound just like Noah,” I said, not stopping the corners of my mouth from turning up. Lily was fucking adorable when she was flustered. And I found it interesting that I seemed to fluster her.
She blew out a breath, making her newly blonde bangs swirl around her face. “You have too many important things to do than fixing my faucet.”
“Like what?”
“Like . . . I don’t know, running a company?”
