Page 61 of Power Play

“Black, no milk, no sugar?” I move toward the coffeemaker Drake and Angie bought me when I first moved in.

“Yes and yes. I’m impressed that you remember.”

“Well, with how many cups of coffee we drank together, it’s hard to forget,” I tell him, starting the coffeemaker. When I turn around, I catch his gaze on my ass, and my cheeks gradually become warm. “Do you want something else? A sandwich? Cookies?”

“No, I’m good. I’m still full after that wholewheat pasta with tuna.” We stopped for dinner at this little restaurant in Monterey—delicious. He chuckles, threading his fingers through his hair. The auburn color that I used to love so much makes his skin stand out, his freckles a bit more pronounced under the bright light of my kitchen. “Take a picture, Mama, it will last longer.”

If my cheeks were warm before, now they’re blazing hot. Instead of answering, I busy myself with getting out mugs. Once the coffeemaker dings, I pour us some and go sit down on the stool across from Clay. His eyes are on me the whole time, and he’s not even trying to mask it.

“Why is Maya wearing glasses?” he asks after he takes a sip of his coffee.

I stiffen, wrapping my palm around the mug. The warmth it radiates sinks under my skin, fueling me with the courage anddetermination to get through this evening without making a fool of myself.

“Remember she mentioned we were at the doctor’s?”

Clay nods, his eyes never leaving my face.

“Throughout the past couple months, I noticed she kept rubbing her eyes, and some really weird thing was happening with her right eye when she was tired. So I took her to the doctor, and she told us that Maya probably has strabismus.”

I divert my attention to the fridge, my eyes glossing over the magnets and pictures I put there. His gaze is on me. I can practically feel it, a featherlight caress on my skin. I don’t look at him as I keep talking.

“It was that day you picked us up from the coffee shop. I was so stupidly distressed after the appointment, I was scared to drive. It’s one thing if it’s just me, but with Maya in the car? I couldn’t risk it.”

Clay’s warm palm covers mine, and my eyes prickle with tears. A deep, shaky breath rambles out of my mouth as I start talking again.

“Dr. Hernandez is great. She’s not an ophthalmologist, but she still explained what it could be, and she landed me an appointment with her colleague whose opinion she trusts. Well, Dr. Silver confirmed the diagnosis. Maya indeed has strabismus—intermittent exotropia.”

“What does that mean?” Clay asks quietly, and I turn to him with tear-filled eyes. He gives my hand a squeeze, his features softening. “If you don’t want to talk about it?—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” I smile weakly despite my tears. “Sometimes her right eye deviates outward. Like, away from her nose, while her left eye remains aligned properly. It might happen when she’s sleepy, or tired, or feeling unwell. There are so many reasons why, it’s hard to narrow them down to one or two.”

“And glasses can help?”

I nod. “Yes. They’re prism glasses, actually. They help to align both eyes for ‘proper binocular vision.’ She’s not a fan, but she’s accepted it—that’s why they are pink. But she also needs to wear an eye patch on her left eye. It encourages her right eye to work normally. It trains it.” I blow out a harsh breath. “It’s the hardest part because she hates it. The first time I tried to convince her to wear it, she was hysterical. Crying and screaming and looking so scared of me that it broke my heart.” I sniff, tears lacing my face. “We made a deal, though. She only wears it at home, when it’s just us, and for a few hours at a time. Hopefully, all that will help her, and we won’t need surgery and she will avoid significant vision loss. She was diagnosed pretty early because I noticed what was happening to her eye, so we have a chance.”

“You’re a great mom,” he says in a soothing voice.

The smile that blooms on my face has no reason to be this big, but I can’t help myself. “Thank you. I’m trying my best.”

I think it’s the only thing I’m good at…and maybe floristry. In other areas? I suck big time.

“Is there anything else that can help?”

“I let her play games on my phone while she wears the eye patch. It pushes the right eye to be more focused.”

Clay crooks a smile. “I still love playing games.” His words make me snort as I lift my mug to my lips and take a sip. “How about you two come over to my place sometime? I can download some games for kids her age.”

Even the thought of going to his place brings warmth to my cheeks and neck. An easily recognizable heat develops in my lower abdomen, forcing me to shut my legs. It’s not what he means, but my brain has little to no control over my body when it comes to Clay.

“The regular season starts in a week. You’ll be busy,” I mumble, suddenly finding my mug so interesting that I prefer to look at it instead of at him.

“I told you, I’ll always find time for you. Please, Layla. I promise it’ll be fun.”

“Okay, let’s try.” I give him a hesitant smile. “Though I’m not sure Maya will agree to wear her eye patch in front of you.”

“She will,” he counters with a confidence that, for whatever reason, makes me believe him. “I know how to convince her.”

“We’ll see, Mr. Baby Whisperer.”

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