“She likes ‘Baby Shark’ too.”
“You talked to her?” Denver asks.
Calista nods. “She called three times.”
We all laugh, though mine is hollow.
I thought I had this in the bag. I’d never been surer of anything in my life. When Savannah had to move in, I thought it was a sign, but I was wrong. The Bailey boys are right. I have to put my desire for Savannah in a box and lock it up tight.
Calista begs for “Baby Shark” again and entertains us with a dance when her uncle concedes. Having her there allows us to ignore the discomfort of them having to come here to politely ask me not to pursue their sister. I never want a visit like this again, so my hands are in the air, surrendering.
Savannah Bailey will never be mine.