Page 35 of Promise Me Sunshine

I pile onto her and she smashes our cheeks together and we take a gorgeously unattractive photo. The only thing that looks good is the painstakingly elegant makeup that Lou’s done for us both.

She studies it for a second. “Should we upload it?”

My stomach flips. We used to upload pics of ourselves to our shared fan account all the time. I’m thrilled she wants to now.

“Yes.”

“Hopefully 5Night will see it and they’ll totally fall in love with us and DM us to be their new wives.”

I laugh. “Yes. Hopefully.”

Chapter Eight

“Sit down,” I hiss to Miles as he jumps up from the playground bench for the ninetieth time. He stares down at me and then back at Ainsley, who is dangling one-handed from a monkey bar. He uses his baseball cap to scratch an itch on his head and then plunks stubbornly back down next to me.

“You honestly don’t think that’s dangerous?” he demands, jutting a thumb to where she’s swinging like a wind chime.

“Of course it is! Playgrounds are state-sanctioned death traps. But I’m telling you, you donotwant to be that guy.” I use my chin to point toward a dad who is crouched down, arms out, at the heels of a toddler who is doing their royal best to escape his overbearing parenting.

“That guy looks like the only sane person here,” Miles grumbles.

“Yeah, maybe, but it’s no coincidence that his kid is clearly having the least fun.”

Miles grumpily crosses his arms over his chest but seems to concede the point when Ainsley does one of those slow, over-the-arm somersaults that would literally tear an adult’s rotator cuff. She releases from the bars, lands on two feet and two hands, and then jumps up, running off toward the mini climbing wall.

“Lesson number one to having a good relationship with akid,” I tell him. “They’re literally wired to have fun, so just get out of the way.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Lesson number one isn’t keep them safe?”

“Obviously. But you can’t make it seem like that’s what you’re doing. If they think you’re the safety patrol, they spend all their time trying to get farther and farther from you. If you’re the fun patrol, they wanna be around you and then it’s more likely that you’ll be there when they actually need help.”

He tips his head to one side. “I guess that makes sense. So, what’s number two, then?”

“Don’t treat her like you’re scared of her. Like she’s a baby tiger or something, and if you’re not careful she’ll scratch your face off.”

“I don’t do that!”

I stare at him, unblinking.

“Okay. Maybe I do that. But I just wouldn’t know what to do if she ever had a meltdown.”

“You’ve dealt with my meltdowns. You’d do better than you think.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is. Kids are scary. They’re ruthless.”

Ainsley comes running up to us. She runs like one of those giant blow-up dancing dolls outside car dealerships. All elbows and unexpected knees.

“Hit me!” she says, and opens her mouth like a baby bird. I take her water bottle and aggressively hydrate her. She laughs when some accidentally shoots into her hair. She turns and runs full speed back to the swings, which she lands on belly first, arms out, up up up halfway to the sky and back back back.

“Yes. Ruthless,” I deadpan.

When it’s time to go, I corral Ainsley, and Miles is right behind us. He’s got a small Nancy Drew–style notebook and a little stub of a pencil. He’s furiously writing something down, following in our wake.

Ainsley and I walk, holding hands and swinging our arms in wider and wider arcs until she almost falls down.

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