Page 5 of Single All the Way

She turned and smiled as she met my gaze with her pretty eyes.

I realized I should’ve saidThis is incredibleinstead. That was slightly less personal. Because for the next six weeks, I’d be living with my late best friend’s wife, who I’d had feelings for a lifetime ago.

“You seem to be having a crazy day,” Emerson said, “and part of that’s because you’re taking us in. This is the least I could do.”

I made a point of turning my attention to the food. “Better be careful. I could get used to this.”

I said it as a joke, but truer words had never been spoken.

Ineeded to be cautious, andIneeded tonotget used to any of this.

ChapterTwo

Emerson

Why was it that, when you were so exhausted you thought you might collapse, you couldn’t sleep once you finally went to bed?

Today had been crazy. Of course it’d been crazy. We’d had movers helping us for hours. Thank God for movers and for Kizzy’s generosity in paying for all of it, because there’d been a lot of moving parts.

First they’d moved the kids’ beds and some clothing and toys to Ben’s house for us to use for the next few weeks. Then they’d taken the rest of the kids’ and my belongings to one storage unit and anything that was left, which belonged to Kizzy, to a separate unit for her to deal with later.

After that circus, we’d picked up a couple of carryout pizzas from Humble’s and eaten a late dinner with Ben and his kids. Then everyone had gone to bed. Tomorrow was a school day and a workday for Ben. Though my hair salon was closed on Mondays, I usually went in to take care of the business and paperwork that piled up, like bills and payroll.

And here I was, wide-awake.

After some time at the salon, I planned to organize the kids’ stuff and figure out how to keep their detritus out of the way at Ben’s. He’d been so kind to invite us into his home, and I didn’t want to wear out our welcome before I found a place of our own. I’d done my best to teach my kids to pick up after themselves, but they were seven and four. Tidying was a constant battle.

On top of all the chaos and upheaval, I hadn’t slept much last night—or the past hundred nights or maybe a thousand. Ten thousand? I’d been perpetually sleep-deprived for years. I figured I could catch up when the kids were grown.

Now I lay in the double bed in Ben’s guest room with Skyler cuddled up beside me. When she’d first wandered in, lugging Waylon, I’d welcomed her. As tired as I was, I knew she was struggling hard with our family’s unsettled state. I just wanted to hug away her anxiety. Honestly I’d appreciated the contact too, content to pull her into me under the warm blankets and try to get used to the night noises of a different house.

That was nearly two hours ago. Skyler had fallen asleep almost immediately, but now my mind was spinning with all the things: Would any new real estate listings pop up tomorrow? What was that periodic clicking in the walls? Would my employees at Posh stay healthy for the upcoming holiday season, a.k.a. our busiest four weeks of the year? How awkward would Christmas at Ben’s house be? Was he really okay with Kizzy and her new wife joining us for the holiday as planned?

Shut up, brain. It’s almost midnight, and I need sleep!

I was no closer to slumber, with the exception of my arm, which was going numb. Very carefully, I pulled away from my daughter, holding my breath to make sure she didn’t stir. Then I lay there on my back, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what the light shining in from outside was. A barn light? Porch light? Full moon?

Did it matter?

Of course not, but my brain was not my friend right now.

Irritated, I inched away from Skyler, then rolled out of bed and tiptoed to the door, pausing to make sure she stayed asleep. I closed it without a sound and crept down the stairs. Halfway down, just after I stepped on a creaky step, I realized there was a dim light coming from the kitchen.

Before I could take another step, Ben stuck his head around the kitchen doorway and looked straight up at me. So much for sneaking back to my room.

I glanced at myself to make sure I was decent enough and realized I made quite a sight. I wore calf-high fuzzy slipper socks, boy shorts because I hated pants on my legs under the blankets, and a long-sleeve thermal pajama shirt that outlined my torso. I’d never been so conscious of the ten or fifteen pounds I’d failed to lose after Skyler was born.

“Oh, it’s you,” he whispered.

“I didn’t know you were up. I was just going to make a cup of bedtime tea.”

He gestured me into the kitchen with his head, so I descended the rest of the steps, my arms over my chest.

“What is this magical bedtime tea you speak of?” he asked as I came around the corner.

I didn’t immediately answer because I was too busy taking in the scene. Ben wore gray sweatpants and a long-sleeve tee that stretched over a nicely sculpted chest and intriguing biceps I hadn’t noticed before. His feet were bare and must have been cold on the old, wood-plank floor. Though I was sure he’d gone to bed when the rest of us did, he didn’t look at all mussed, just his usual competent, put-together, good-looking self.

The counter, which had been cleared and cleaned after dinner, was covered with loaves of bread and a large mixing bowl.

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