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Meg:It’s not cute. It’s way too soon. He’s heartbroken and not in a good place to make a rational decision.
Brooke:It’s just lunch, Meg. Calm down.
Meg:Forget about the fact that he’s going to lunch with another woman. Aren’t any of you freaked out that she looks exactly like Mom?
Brooke:I cried when I saw the picture of her.
Tessa:Me, too.
Meg:I cried too.
Meg:I was beginning to think that I was the only one struggling with how much they look alike.
Matt:I don’t cry, but I can admit that the off-brand version of our mom is a lot to take in. You’re not the only one.
Meg:Okay, thank you.
It’s nice to know that I’m not crazy. We’re all dealing with grief and struggling in our own way.
An email alert pops up on my computer screen, and I’m more than happy to click off of Anna Mae’s face. I open the response—some parent who can’t figure out how to use the Google Doc to sign up for the field trip. I click on the link and the page pulls up. It’s a live document, so I can see who’s in it and who’s not. Five out of the six spots are already filled. There’s one spot left. A cursor with the name Tyler Dixon hovers over the square.
My heart skips a beat. Who knew Google Docs could be so romantic?
Tyler Dixon is signing up to come on the field trip with me.
No, not withme—he’s signing up to go with Krew.
This is a very normal parent thing to do that has nothing to do with me.
Except somehow, it feels like it haseverythingto do with me.
CHAPTER14
TYLER
“Krew, bring me your backpack,” I yell from the kitchen table. “Do you have homework?”
You better believe that ever since Meet the Teacher Night, I’ve been going through Krew’s homework.
It’s because of education.
Not to impress his teacher.
“We don’t have any homework because tomorrow’s Friday, and that’s when our spelling test is.”
Krew slings the backpack onto the table, hitting me in the face with the straps, then he runs off.
“Thank you for that,” I say as I rub my eye. I pull out his class folder, fact-checking my seven-year-old. It’s empty except for the October monthly project—something about gathering different types of leaves. It’s not due for two more weeks, but I read over the instructions anyway. It seems pretty self-explanatory. Collect leaves. Glue them to paper, and label what kind of tree they came from.
Maybe it’s Paul and the way he’s jumping head first into dating again, but I’ve been thinking about Meg nonstop.
I googled Etsy.
I’m not proud of it.
But you’d be surprised by the good stuff you can find there, including Meg’s designs. That’s right, I searched the depths of the website until I found her shop.
Made by Meg.
