Page 14 of Home Sweet Home

“Every time I throw a rag at you, you flinch.”

“Look at my penguin,” Ryleigh said from the corner booth, her feet dangling six inches off the floor, kicking back and forth like she was on a swing. Kayla had sat her down with paper placemats and a box of crayons she’d dug up from a drawer in the office. The only colors left were brown, dark green, and golden yellow, all stubs with the wrappers peeled off. But Ryleigh didn’t seem to mind, biting her lip as she drew, considering every stroke.

“Sure it’s not an octopus?” Kayla’s eyes narrowed as her head tilted to the side like she was examining an inkblot.

Ryleigh’s chin up pitched up in defiance. “No. It’s a penguin. Her name is Cuddles.”

Kayla squeezed Ryleigh’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. “Cuddles is beautiful. Now Mommy needs to get back to work.” Kayla came back to the counter, empty salt and pepper shakers lined up in neat rows. “I’ve created a monster. A genius. But a monster.”

“Kenny can’t keep bailing like this,” Evie said. It was the third time in a few weeks Kayla had showed up at Joe’s with Ryleigh, yawning and rubbing her eyes, her hand tucked into Kayla’s.

Kayla shrugged. “He got called in to the shop early. Someone hit a deer on 49.”

“You have entirely too much patience for someone who isn’t your boyfriend anymore,” Evie said, trying to remember the last time they’d broken up. Evie was pretty sure it was a few months ago, but after their breakups hit more than she could tick off with the fingers of one hand, Evie had stopped keeping count.

“He may not be my boyfriend,” Kayla said, “but he’s Ryleigh’s dad. And we’ve known each other a long time. It’s not like we don’t still care about each other. But let’s talk about more interesting things, like how you’re about to get up close and personal with Mr. Baseball.” Kayla waggled her eyebrows just as the door chimed, and a cocky smirk appeared on Kayla’s face when she saw who had walked in. “I’m a goddamn witch.”

It was West, aviators perched on his forehead. Rich was by his side, looking as though he’d stepped through a portal into an alternate universe. West’s face brightened when he spotted Evie, and when he waved as he sank down into a booth, she turned toward Kayla, pretending not to see him.

She couldn’t pretend for long, though, because he’d sat down in her section. She opened her mouth to tell Kayla she would bake her favorite lemon pie if she would do this one thing for her, but with impeccable timing, Ryleigh whined, “Mom!” Kayla dashed over to the booth, leaving Evie to her fate.

As West and Rich looked over menus, Evie inhaled, steeling herself, and with each step toward their table, she wondered if this was what Marie Antoinette had felt as she walked to the guillotine.

“What can I get you?” Evie asked, order pad in hand.

Rich held the menu between his index finger and thumb, like if it touched any more surface area of his skin, it would contaminate him with some incurable disease.

“Joe still makes his cheeseburgers with pickles in the patty?” West asked. He leaned back, and the cushions groaned underneath his weight. He was wearing shorts today, tight against the tops of his thighs.

Evie’s eyes lingered a beat too long, and when she noticed, she whipped her head toward his face, the appropriate place to be looking, praying to whatever higher powers existed that he hadn’t caught her. “Sure does.”

“Two of those,” West said. “Medium rare, please.”

“Fries or salad?”

West grinned and patted his hands over his belly. It was more like a plank of marble—flat, smooth, and, she assumed, just as solid. “Gotta be fries.”

“Sure.” Evie took his menu. “What about you, Rich?”

Rich looked at her, nose twitching like he was a dog who had picked up on a smell coming from somewhere.

She sniffed too, wondering if it was her. The morning rush had been particularly hectic.

“Is there anything on this menu that isn’t fried?”

There is if you actually fucking read it.Evie plastered a smile on her face. “Cobb salad’s a favorite.”

“I’ll have that.” Rich handed her the menu and thumbed through his phone before adding, with one finger in the air, “No bacon. No cheese. Dressing on the side.”

If she could have guessed his order, it would have been exactly that. “Coming right up.”

As Evie turned to put the order in, the lightest touch brushed against the underside of her wrist, sending a jolt through her. When she turned around, she saw West’s outstretched fingers, and she whipped her hand away, cradling it like he’d injured her. Maybe he had.

“I was just wondering if you’ve thought about what I asked you,” West said.

Rich looked up from his phone, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m thinking about it,” Evie said.

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