Page 32 of Promise Me Sunshine

I’m already spooning some into a bowl and don’t bother accepting an apology I don’t think is necessary. I’m suddenly famished.

We eat dinner together in silence, him still looking at the newspaper. I do the dishes, feeling energized by my nap andby the food. But as soon as I turn the sink off, I realize that the sun will set soon. There’s a cold pit in my gut and tears spring to my eyes. I don’t want to leave here, but I also don’t want to stay.

This is the time of day when everything I’ve ignored for the last few hours starts knocking.

“Hey.”

His eyes shoot up to mine. “Hm?”

“Let’s do homework.”

—

“Homework” means thatI drag him ten blocks south to a sporting goods store. It wasn’t in our original plan but it’s all in the name of Ainsley. I help him agonize over which baseball mitt to buy.

“Help” means that I fall in love with the sporting goods salesman (short king, full beard, looks like he’d know how to drive a Jeep down a mountainside) and Miles puts a hockey helmet over my head.

“So,” I say as I watch him put a tiny baseball mitt on, like, one quarter of his hand and try to open and close it. “You’re going with theCome play a game of catch with the old manangle, huh?”

He scratches at the back of his neck.

“It’s a good idea!” I reassure him. “I just wondered why you chose baseball.”

“I know it’s cliché…”

“It’s brilliant! But…what if you helped her get really good at a sport no one else is good at? Like…I dunno. That.”

“Badminton? That would require me knowing literally anything about badminton.”

“So, be bad at badminton with her. Learn it together!”

He considers the idea, then puts the baseball mitts back on the hooks and heads to the badminton area.

The salesman—aka love of my life—comes over to assist us and by the time we leave, Miles has a full bag of whoozits and whatsits and I’ve got hearts in my eyes.

“He was wearing a wedding ring,” Miles says, looking down at me while we wait at the crosswalk.

“Iknow.” I scowl back up at him. “Just let me fantasize from afar.”

He glances back toward the store and then down at me again. “So…you never actually approach these guys? You just want to…daydream about them?”

“It’s something to do.” I nudge him to start walking once the light changes.

“Crossword puzzles. Push-ups. These are things to do.”

“You’ve never fantasized about someone you’ve just met?”

His brow immediately, aggressively furrows and he’s looking at me likeExactly how much does this lady know about a man’s mind?

I burst out laughing. “I’m not talking about, like,sex stuff.”

He crushes down a laugh and shakes his head. “It’s involuntary.”

“I’m not judging you. It’s clearly normal. Who would it hurt anyhow? You’ve got a face like a bulldog. Nobody would ever even know what you’re thinking.”

“Face like a bulldog…” he murmurs, but I plow on.

“I’m talking, like, you’ve never met someone and thought, wow, I bet she makes a great double fudge brownie? Wow, I’d like to eat one of those brownies after I get home from work. Wow, I bet she’d like to learn how to fish and one day we’ll rent a cabin and fish and eat brownies and I’ll give her mygrandmother’s engagement ring and someday we’ll have twins?”

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