Page 17 of Promise Me Sunshine

When we’re on the sidewalk in front of their building, Miles suddenly stops walking. “Lenny—”

I just shake my head and point upstairs. “Gonna be late.”

I should probably be thanking him. For making sure I didn’t get serial killed last night. Or for preventing me from giving a grown man a wedgie. Or for breakfast.

But the thing about thanking someone is that it requires acknowledgment that the situation is, in fact, real. And I just can’t bring myself to do that.

“Check pleasssssse, baby!” Lou sings at the top of her lungs. “Because you’re my checkmate, my checkmate girl!”

She’s been obsessed with this song by the K-pop band 5Night for the last week and I’ve started hearing it in my nightmares. I love 5Night as much as Lou does. I mean, they have a no-skip discography as far as I’m concerned, but did I mention that it’s been on repeat for a week?

“Lou!” I scream, slamming my bedroom door open when I hear her start the song over again. “If you don’t shut this cursed song off…!”

“Make me!” she shouts defiantly, appearing in her own bedroom door, the two of us squaring off.

I lunge around her, faking her out as I make a break for her speaker. She gets me by the back of the sweatpants and attempts to wedgie me into submission. I kick her Bugs Bunny slippers out from under her, but unfortunately I also break her fall. She’s got longer arms than I do, but I’m squirrelly. I’m out from her grasp and I fall triumphantly over her desk, her speaker clutched between my hands.

“Nooooooo,” she cries from her bedroom floor. “Don’t do it, Lenny.”

My finger hovers over the power button. Peace is at my fingertips.

And then I impulsively smash the back button, starting the song from the beginning. She screams with victorious laughter and with a plunk I join her to sing on the floor.

Chapter Five

I take Ainsley to school and then that afternoon I meet her at the gate of the schoolyard with a hot pretzel and a bubble tea (her favorite snack, she informed me yesterday) and she’s practically airborne as she skips her way home. Her mom is almost back.

I smile as I watch her. Obviously, being a mother must be desperately difficult, but to be on the receiving end of that kind of ebullient love probably makes it worth it.

We mess around at home for a few hours, working on a puzzle, then tossing a bunch of stuff into the instapot and hoping it creates something edible for dinner.

When we hear Reese’s keys in the front door, Ainsley leaps down from the counter and sprints to the front hall. After a minute, Reese walks into the kitchen, holding Ainsley baby-monkey style, and it makes me grin. They look effervescent with joy to be reunited.

“Mom, I wanna watch a movie,” Ainsley whines in a voice I haven’t heard her use once all weekend.

“It’s a weeknight, sweetie,” Reese says firmly.

“But I want to!” Ainsley insists, immediately growing petulant.

“Ains—”

Tears burst out of the little girl and she squirms down from her mother’s grasp and disappears down the hall toward her room.

“Sorry,” Reese says, pinching at the space between her eyes.

“No apology necessary. It’s understandable. She was an angel for me. Which means she saved up everything else for you.”

“Exactly.” Reese sighs. She’s wearing a pantsuit and her hair down around her shoulders. For someone who just took a five-hour flight she looks impossibly fresh. I feel like a sewer creature in comparison. “Well, how was it?”

“A total dream. You’ve got a good one, Reese.”

She smiles. “She’s the best, isn’t she?…I was really worried about her after my dad died. He was a father figure for her. But I think she’s rebounding. So,” she says, changing topics with a clap. “Tell me everything.”

I fill her in on the weekend and then go say goodbye to Ainsley. She’s not receptive to much, obviously on total overload, and I’m relieved. I don’t think I could handle any more emotions right now. I hate that this is goodbye, but that’s the way it is.

When I reemerge into the kitchen, Reese is standing there, biting her lip. “Are you sure you aren’t looking for regular work? I just want to make it clear that the offer is out there.”

“Thank you,” I say quickly. “But I’m just here to help in a pinch. That’s…that’s what works for my life right now.” I try not to burst into maniacal laugh-tears at the wordlife.

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