Page 8 of The Parent Pick-Up
He disappears down the hall, leaving Olivia and I bereft in the foyer.
Olivia clutches my hand tighter, eyes wide. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
I’m not sure, but what choice do I have?
“At least they have power. And something smells delicious.”
Inside, the house is even more beautiful than it looked from the outside. It’s a study in casual, coastal charm. The setting sun spills across wide-planked wood floors, and the walls are painted in a soft, welcoming blue.
The smell of Italian spices makes me aware of my empty belly.
A moment later, Owen returns with an apologetic smile. “Be right back. I have to check on Hannah.”
After he sprints up the stairs, Olivia and I drift into the living room, where the view blows us both away.
“Wow,” Olivia says.
My heart stops as I stare out the huge windows framing the bay like a living painting. The sun is just beginning to slip beneath the horizon, and the golden glow splashes across the rippling water.
A lone sailboat drifts lazily across the bay, its white sail gleaming against the vibrant sky.
I step closer, drawn to the glass, and press a hand lightly to the cool pane.
For one small moment, I forget about the boxes, the darkness, and the pit in my stomach that’s been growing since I decided to move us again.
All I can think is that maybe we’ve just landed somewhere special. Somewhere we’re meant to stay.
“Something’s burning,” Olivia says suddenly, breaking my trance.
Sure enough—smoke curls out from the kitchen doorway like a red flag.
We rush into the kitchen, where despite the smoke, the decor is fresh out of a magazine.
Double ovens. Giant marble island. Top-of-the-line everything. It’s like Julia Child and Ina Garten had a baby and it grew up to be this kitchen.
I dart to the stove, turn the burner down, and give the bubbling sauce a stir. It smells so delicious; I have to take a bite.
Holy mother of marinara. It’s good.
Footsteps sound, and Owen reappears. His hair is mussed like he’s been running his hands through it, and his eyes are wide. He fans his hand in the air to thin the smoke.
“You saved dinner?”
I lift a shoulder. “I can’t let a good sauce burn on my watch.”
Before he can reply, a miniature, female version of Owen wanders in. Her eyes are red rimmed, and she clutches a giant stuffed animal.
“Is that a Calvary Cat?” Olivia asks.
The little girl nods and hugs it tighter. “Do you have one?”
The girls dissolve into chatter like they’ve known each other forever.
I look over their heads at Owen, who is watching carefully. His gaze lifts to mine, and he gives me a small smile. We have a moment of bonding over our impossibly adorable little girls before I remember my dilemma.
“I just came for a flashlight. Our power’s out. My phone’s almost dead, and I wasn’t prepared for, well… any of this.”
He nods. “I’ve got an emergency pack in the garage. One sec.”
