Page 3 of Promise Me Sunshine

Reese disappears with a wave and Ainsley does a double take at the doorway. “Oh. Hi, Miles.”

“Hey. I’ll be around too…if you need me.”

Ainsley looks instantly confused. “Why would I needyou?” she asks in that guileless yet utterly gutting way that children have.

For the length of a single camera flash Miles looks mortally wounded. But then his gaze hardens as it flicks over to me. “Just in case,” he grumbles.

Miles disappears and Ainsley turns back to the hem of her shirt.

Well, ohhhhkay. Guess we’ve got somefamily dynamicsto navigate here.

I spot some computer paper and help myself. Ainsley rolls a few colored pencils in my direction. Half an hour later—after her stomach starts making goblin noises—we’re exploring the fridge and pantry, chatting about what we could make and laughing at how bad the fancy cheese in the cheese drawer smells.

Twice I think there’s someone else standing there, but when I look up, we’re alone. The third time, it’s Reese in the doorway, smiling.

“I’m gonna head out in a minute,” Reese says. “Do you wanna come help me pick my jewelry for the weekend, sweetie?”

Ainsley scampers after her mother and I’m left in the kitchen to make lunch. I put my hands on my hips and start a slow perusal of my options.

“How old are you?”

I jolt at the unexpected deep voice behind me. Miles is at the other end of the kitchen, leaning up against the counter.

“Twenty-eight. Are you staying for lunch?”

“I don’t need you to feed me.”

Good thing I’m not easily scared off. “Do you think Ainsley would want the white cheddar mac or the double-cheese stars and moons?”

“I think her mother would prefer she eats something that isn’t pure chemicals.”

I deftly ignore that, because Reese is presumably the person who bought the mac and cheese in the first place. I start searching through the cabinets for a pot. “How old areyou?”

He frowns. “Got a lot of childcare experience?”

“Yes.”

He’s waiting for me to elaborate, but when I don’t he crosses his arms over his chest. “What are you looking for?”

“A pot. There’s a lot of real estate in this kitchen.” I’ve opened six sets of doors and have yet to find the cookware.

He doesn’t direct me toward it, which leads me to believe he either wants to make my life as hard as possible or he doesn’t know his way around their kitchen.

Isunclea euphemism? They don’t seem to know each other very well. Or evenlikeeach other very well. Based onthe way he’s acting, I might have wondered if he was perhaps Ainsley’s overprotective father, but Reese made it very clear when we spoke over the phone earlier in the week that she conceived Ainsley on her own and she’s a single mother. Probably so I wouldn’t put my foot in my mouth and ask Ainsley about her dad.

“Okey-doke,” Reese says, reappearing with a rolling suitcase in one hand and Ainsley attached to the other. “I’ve gotta jet if I’m gonna make my flight.” She bends and gives Ainsley a squeeze. “It’s gonna be great. And it’s only two nights. I’ll see you after school on Monday.”

Ainsley nods like they’ve already been over this. “I know.”

“Okay. Well, Lenny, thank you. You’re a lifesaver. Call me foranyreason.”

She gives Miles a nod and then heads to the front door. Ainsley trots after her and I migrate in that direction, wanting to give them some space for their goodbye but also wanting to be on hand.

Reese stops at the front door and slides her shoes on, saying something quietly to Ainsley.

“Iknow,Mom,” Ainsley says, somewhat petulantly. “Just go already. You’ll be late.”

Reese gives her one last kiss on her staticky head and then the door clicks shut behind her.

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