Page 27 of If This Was a Movie

“Honey, you know that’s not how that works: we don’t tell people what to do. You heard me tell Jules she could stay here, no pressure. You also heard me tell her that she wouldn’t have to spend time over here if she wasn’t comfortable. We’re helping her out because her house is all messed up, not because we want her to be here.” Despite his calm, reasonable words, she’s still a five-year-old, and she pouts at her dad, eyes welling.

“But I do want her to be here,” she says, low and sad, and something in me breaks. Nate’s helping me out; I need to do the same.

“It’s fine, really; I don’t mind,” I say to Nate. Sophie looks at me, her eyes going wide and filled with hope. “Go get your pajamas on and brush your teeth and whatever else you normally do for bed. When you’re done, I’ll come in and say good night.”

“And you’ll read me a book?” I can’t help but laugh at the sudden look of determination on her little face and the way her hands go to her hips like she’s in a board meeting and trying to secure a deal. Something tells me she’s going to be an absolute powerhouse one day.

“Sophie,” Nate warns, but I’m fine with bartering.

“One,” I say.

“Three,” she demands, and I raise an eyebrow.

“One.” Her lips purse, and she looks at her dad and then at me.

I look to her dad, who is clearly fighting a smile but lifts his hands as if to say,this is your fight.“One,” I repeat, knowing from my past babysitting experiences that if you win the first battle, the rest are much easier to triumph over. If I do end up helping out and babysitting in exchange for a place to stay, I’ll need to start on the right foot.

Don’t ask me why I’m even contemplating staying as an option when it so very clearly is not.

She glares at me, trying to read me and determine if I’ll break before sighing.

“Fine. One,” she says with a pout, then turns on a foot toward the hall where I assume her room is, more sass than I thought could be possible for one small body.

I laugh silently as I watch her retreat before looking at Nate, who is leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed on his chest, and taking me in.

“You did good,” he says. “Showed her who’s boss. She can smell weakness, I swear.”

I smile and chuckle at him before shrugging.

“Like Claire said, I’ve babysat a bunch, and I teach a group of girls how to dance. Plus, my best friend is the sassiest person I’ve ever met, so I’m well trained. It’s almost second nature at this point.”

“You fit right in here,” he says, staring at me with a contemplative gaze. He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something else but closes it when a light down the hall turns on, and Sophie calls his name. Then, without a word, he heads to help his daughter.

As I watch him walk down the hall, standing in his kitchen and not feeling a bit out of place, I think to myself, that is exactly what I’m afraid of.

“So this would be your place,” Nate says as he walks me into the small cottage behind his house. It has everything one needs to survive in a cute studio apartment style. There’s a tiny kitchenette and bedroom sharing a space, a cozy-looking loveseat in a corner, and a small enclosed bathroom with a standing shower, sink, and toilet. It’s bigger and comfier than I could ever afford for any stretch of time and much nicer than I anticipated. “Will it work?”

I laugh at his nerves.

“It’s…it’s perfect,” I say, shifting curtains to see an arched window facing the woods that butt up against the back of his property before turning to look at him. As much as this feels like fate at a time when I really,reallyneed just a hint of good luck or a right place, right time moment, my mind still can’t accept this as a reality. “I can’t thank you enough, really.”

“Well, it’s the least I could do, all things considered. I have a feeling I did something to make you want to block me.”

I close my eyes and sigh, feeling the blush burn at my cheeks but knowing I have to get this over with once and for all.

“I thought you were married,” I blurt out. “And that I was some side fling.”

He stares at me for long moments, and my heart pounds nearly audibly.

“You thought I was married?” he asks with a disbelieving smile, leaning against the doorway of the cottage, his arms crossed over his chest.

I wonder if this is some kind of signature move or if he uses it to get anything he wants because I can definitely see how thatwould work. It’s probably why I find myself rambling my excuse without trying to avoid it.

“I went to the grocery store, and I saw you there, Sophie on your hip with Sloane. I…” I sigh once more and roll my eyes. “Okay, I jumped to conclusions and didn’t give you any chance to explain, but in my defense?—”

“It was a perfectly reasonable thing to assume, and I hope when Soph gets older, if she sees a situation like that, she will do the same.” He pauses before he tips his head. “Maybe add in slashing his tires.”

I smile in return.

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