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I point behind me. “The child never lies.”
“Okay, so you listen to my songs. Whatever.” She’s biting back her smile.
Man, if I could get a hold of those lips, I would.
“Let’s change the subject,” she says, turning to look out the window.
“Fine. We can change the subject.” I laugh, watching as she continues to hide her face from me. Embarrassed Meg is my new favorite. “What were you doing at the school so late?”
“I had a lot to get done, and…” She plays with the bracelets on her wrist. “I was avoiding going home to my empty apartment.”
“Well, you’re not alone anymore. I’ve got a very cheap frozen pizza we can bake—”
“And don’t forget the sugar cookies,” she adds. “That’s literally the only reason I agreed to come to your house.”
“I hope it’s not theonlyreason.”
I point to the white two-story in front of us as I pull into the driveway. “This is it.” I open the garage and see a pile of Krew’s baseball stuff on the ground, and suddenly I’m worried. What did I leave out this morning? Are there dirty dishes on the table? Piles of shoes by the door? Wet towels on the floor of the bathroom? Right about now, I wish I had cleaned up a little last night instead of watching TV.
I’m planning on Meg being here a lot longer than ten minutes.
* * *
MEG
When I’m with Tyler, I want more. I want to throw caution to the wind and see where this fantasy life takes me. And basically that’s what I’m doing right now. Being here is like reading one of thosepeek-insidebooks. I’m lifting the flap, seeing what life with Tyler would be like. And from what I’ve seen, this peek inside is pretty great.
We go through the garage door into a laundry room. Stacks of clothes are on the ground, and there are little green rings of laundry detergent on the counter from where Tyler keeps setting the cup.
It's cute, picturing him doing laundry. It's actually more than cute. It's the sexiest thing I can even imagine. I'm seeing Tyler in a whole new way. Most women like men who race motorcycles and pump serious amounts of weights, but not me. I like good, old-fashioned dads. And seeing this dad in his domain might just push me over the edge.
“Sorry,” he says, kicking a shoe out of the way. “We're kind of a mess.”
I smile as I pass him by, making my way into the kitchen. There are white cabinets and white counters and a big window that looks into the backyard. Dishes are piled up in the sink, but other than that, the space is pretty clean.
“It’s not that messy.”
“It could be better.”
Krew drops his backpack and runs to me, grabbing my hand. “Come on, Mrs. Johnson. I want to show you my room and then the rest of the house.”
Tyler gives a nervous laugh. “Krew, I'm sure Miss Johnson doesn't want a tour.”
I glance at him over my shoulder. “I absolutely want a tour.”
Tyler follows behind us with hands in his pockets. He looks scared, as if at any moment I might see a dirty pair of underwear.
Krew weaves his way through the entire house, dragging me behind him; he saves the family room for the last stop.
“And this is where we watch TV,” he says.
I look around and notice one of my signs hanging above a bookshelf—the one that says “Family. A little bit of crazy, a little bit of loud, and a whole lot of love.”
I turn to Tyler. “Where did you get this?”
He walks up next to me, brushing his shoulder against mine. “This?” He gives me a playful smile. “I’ve had this forever.”
I shake my head. “No, you haven’t. This is a new design.”
