Page 110 of Endgame

The man gives blue vagina like it’s his goddamn job.

“I…I…am a woman of high class. I would never do such a thing.

Navy snorts. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter. She knows me better than that.

“Right. Remind me to bleach my ears when I get home. This conversation is a reminder of why men inherently suck.” She’s laughing, butIknowherbetter than that. It looks like my best friend and I are also due for a chat.

My guess is that she kicked Luke to the curb.

Or maybe that’s my hope for her.

“Alright, children, that’s enough. I’m glad to see everyone is enjoying each other’s company. Dakota, sweetie, we are so happy to have you here.”

I couldn’t love her more if I tried.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hayes. I know I never got to say it, but thank you for being there—at the funeral. It means more than you know.”

Her support was what helped me get my helpless ass out of bed and keep going.

I was dead inside.

Mrs. Hayes and Navy ensured I cared for myself and never gave up.

I’ll never be able to repay them for their kindness, but I can at least tell them how appreciative I am.

Mr. Hayes speaks up instantly, “Sweetheart, you are family. That has and will never change. No matter the last name you decide to keep or gain.”

My eyes find Callaway’s baby blues; they’re steady set on a wall in the distance with a look of numbness crossing hisfeatures. He can’t be that interested in a canvas of a vintage Elvis Presley, so my guess is that his dad’s statement surprised him.

He’s lost in thought.

My brain is processing ways to respond that won’t throw Cal off even more. His behavior is clearly the result of our strained moment earlier, and I hate that I put him in this head space. Before I can thank Mr. Hayes, Delilah changes the subject swiftly.

“Dakota, honey, would you like to help me clean up in the kitchen?”

“I’d love to.”

Delilahand I gather the dirty dishes and carry them to the sink.

Her home is warm and inviting.

I remember all the times Navy and I would come home for the holidays during college and find her covered in flour and smelling like spices.

She was always baking something.

I wait patiently as Delilah fills the sink with soapy water and hands me a drying towel while she begins washing.

It feels good to spend time with her. She makes me miss my mom. Though, I know she’s not coming back, and that makes me even more grateful to have Mrs. Hayes here for the motherly perspective.

In fact, there are some things I’d really like to share with her.

I’m planning on laying it all out there to Callaway. I want him to know how I feel—how much I love him.

This is typically a time when I’d find myself calling my mom to ask for advice and to make sure I’m doing the right thing, which is probably why I feel comfortable enough to share with Delilah.

After all, Callaway is her son, and I want her to know how crazy I am about him.

Delilah’s humming calms my nerves, her quiet tune bringing a new warmth to an already charming home.

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