Page 110 of Spotlight
I nod, fighting back the anger bubbling underneath the surface. Listen, I know Greer isn’t perfect and that she might even be the villain in some other little kids’ stories on occasion, but none of that makes me any more reasonable. Actually, I take it back. Greer would never call someone a name and then tease them like it sounds like Sara did to her. My daughter is a lot of things, but she isn’t a bully.
“I’m not sure what the rules are for telling you this stuff…” He trails off.
“I won’t tell her that you told me.”
“Thanks,” he says, smiling and looking relieved. He steps closer and runs his hands up my arms. “If it’s any consolation, the only reason she didn’t tell you is she knew how much it would upset you.”
“She said that?”
“Yeah.” He wipes a water drop off my cheek and then brushes his lips over mine. “You’re a good mom, Olivia.”
I soak in his words and hope he’s right.
* * *
The next morning, I wake to my alarm. Flynn’s arm is draped over my middle.
“No,” he mutters when I move to silence the incessant noise.
I laugh and turn in his arms. Greer’s bedroom door creaks, interrupting our happy bubble, and Flynn and I both go wide-eyed. We hadn’t discussed him sleeping over or what Greer would think, but it seems like it’s too late to worry about that now.
She comes bounding in, all smiles, and bounces onto the end of the bed. Seeing her so happy for the first time in days lessens my panic a smidge.
“Good morning,” I say to her as I sit up.
“Morning, munchkin.” Flynn waves and then we both wait to see what Greer will do or say.
“Can we have pancakes this morning?” she asks.
“Uh…sure. I think we have time for that.”
“Okay.” Then she squeezes her body between us, right into the nook of Flynn’s outstretched arm.
My heart feels like it might burst.
“You have to get ready for school,” I tell her.
“I know.” Her voice is despondent.
“Five more minutes?” Flynn asks with pleading eyes that match my daughters.
“Yeah,” I agree and lie back down with them. “That sounds perfect.”
* * *
The extra minutes make our morning a little more chaotic. I get ready and start on making breakfast and Greer’s lunch.
Flynn comes in shortly.
“Perfect timing.” I add another pancake to his plate. “Food is ready.”
“It smells great.” He finds Greer in the living room packing her backpack. He picks her up and raises her onto his shoulders.
She squeals with delight as he walks her over to the kitchen and deposits her onto a stool, then takes the one next to her.
Everything about this morning has been so surreal but watching them eat together, drenching their pancakes in syrup the same way, and then taking equally big bites is the final punch to the gut.
I’m in love with Flynn. Not only am I in love with him, but I want this every day. Me, Greer, him, waking up and having pancakes and getting ready for the day.
