Page 32 of Home Sweet Home

“It’s all right. Iamtall,” West said, crouching so he was level with Ryleigh. “There. Now, who might you be?”

Kayla tucked a strand of Ryleigh’s dark hair behind her ear. “Ryleigh. My daughter. Remember Kenny?”

“Of course I remember Kenny. He used to have the best weed—”

Kayla clapped her hands over Ryleigh’s ears just as Ryleigh asked, “What’s weed?”

“Ryleigh’s father,” Kayla said with a sigh.

“I didn’t know you two were together,” West said.

“We’re not. Not anymore. But we co-parent.”

“I’m sorry,” West said. “For that. And for saying W-E-E-D.”

Ryleigh turned to Kayla. “Why did he just spell weed?”

“Don’t worry about it. It was for the best,” Kayla said. “And she’s going into the second grade. She knows how to spell.”

West sighed. “Well, I really screwed that up, didn’t I?”

Kayla waved him off. “Nothing she hasn’t heard before. There are enough quarters in our swear jar to buy a Lamborghini. Weeds are plants, Ryleigh. The kind that just pop up. There’s some right outside, see?” Kayla pointed out the window to the lawn, dotted with yellow and white dandelions.

Ryleigh nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer, and took her brush back to the wall to lazily paint streaks across the white plaster.

“Which wall should I take?” Evie asked Kayla.

“You andWestcan take that wall right there. The one with the dim lighting. Paint it whatever color your little heart desires.”

West grabbed a roller, and as he examined the paint cans in front of him, his eyebrows scrunched like he was doing calculus, not just choosing a color. “I’m feeling pink. What about you, Peach?”

“No preference,” Evie said, the room suddenly too warm.

“Pink, it is.”

As West made his way toward the wall, Kayla, with unbridled glee on her face, thrust a roller into Evie’s hands. “Have fun. Practice safe sex.”

Evie glanced back at West, hoping he hadn’t heard Kayla, who hadn’t bothered whispering. “You really need to learn how to use an inside voice.”

“And you really should be thanking me,” Kayla said, waggling her eyebrows. “Fifteen-year-old Evie would have sent me a fucking fruit basket for making this happen. Be more like fifteen-year-old Evie.”

Evie opened her mouth to object, but Kayla had already turned to grab her own roller and was settling in next to Ryleigh.

As Evie made her way to her and West’s wall, the lighting changed dramatically. Unlike the rest of the salon lit by fluorescent bulbs, the space was lit by only one dim bulb overhead. Kayla hadn’t been exaggerating. Evie glanced at Kayla, who winked before turning back to keep Ryleigh from coating the floor in paint.

“You sure she’s turning this into a salon and not a nightclub?” West asked, rolling pink paint over the white drywall.

Evie dipped her roller into the paint tray. “Kayla likes colors.”

West chuckled. “I’d noticed.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, and the repetition was meditative as Evie found a rhythm. She dipped the roller in the paint tray, smoothed it onto the wall until no white showed through, then rinsed and repeated each time the paint started streaking.

Occasionally, she caught a glimpse of West, his forearms flexing as he worked, his face twisted in concentration.

“What?” he asked, one eyebrow raised, when he caught her looking.

“Nothing.” Evie focused on filling a white patch of the wall, but his eyes were still on her. She was purposefully avoiding looking at him, but she didn’t need to look to know, because she could feel his gaze. “Are you missing LA?”

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