Page 67 of One and Only

But one wrong step, with this new awareness, these new thoughts, and everything we were building would come crashing down.

Chapter15

Greer

There was a problem with Olive’s new room. It took me three hours after Josie left to figure it out.

I sat downstairs on the couch sketching on my iPad, playing with some renders for a client, when the light bulb went off.

It happened with occasional sounds filtering down the steps—usually Beckett’s low, rumbling voice, punctuated with warm bursts of his laugh.

My pencil slowed whenever I heard it because I didn’t often get to see him laugh, and I wondered what Olive said that made it happen.

The problem in that room, as I’d discovered over the lonely three hours I’d spent on the couch, was that neither of them wanted to leave it.

It shouldn’t have seemed so complicated, whether or not I was welcome, but I sifted through all the reasons I shouldn’t go in there with them over and over and over.

In theory, I was her stepmom. Someone to act as a partner to her dad, but I wasn’t invited into Beckett’s life to mother her.

She had a mother, and a really good one from what I could tell.

In reality, I was her dad’s roommate. A backup if something went wrong, and an extra adult in the house for emergencies.

That roommate label was uncomfortable to slip into. I didn’t really like how it fit now that I was separate from them.

It was different when Olive had been gone. Easier to maintain boundaries between how we spent our time in the house.

I’d kept myself so busy in that room all week because it was something tangible I could do, but now that it was done, my role in the house felt incredibly uncertain.

Beckett laughed again, and I tapped a pencil against the side of my leg.

My phone buzzed next to me, and I smiled when I saw a message from Josie.

Josie: I just want to thank you again for her bedroom. I keep thinking about how much she’ll love it over the next year, and I’m so grateful that Beckett found someone so thoughtful.

Guilt tore through any happy feelings that the text might have brought, shredding at the edges of my already tenuous mood.

I hated being alone when the feels got too big. These were the moments when I’d go home, let the noise and chaos of my parents’ house stabilize my heart, and replenish whatever felt lacking. My chest felt tight and achy, and I carefully tapped out a reply.

Me: You’re very welcome. She’s been up there drawing and coloring since you left. We may never get her out of there!

Josie: Lol! I’m not shocked at all. Oh, but that reminds me, I forgot to tell Beckett that she’s been having some nightmares this week. I think it’s our departure around the corner. But don’t be surprised if she crawls in bed with you guys tonight!

“Oh shit,” I whispered.

I glanced over at the main bedroom, just at the bottom of the stairs. The bedroom where I had definitely not been sleeping since the wedding.

After sending a quick reply to Josie that I’d let Beckett know, I tucked my phone in my pocket and ascended the stairs.

Olive was chattering happily to her dad, and I waited just out of sight to listen, unbearably curious to hear her when she was fully relaxed, felt fully safe to be herself.

“There are fifteen small butterflies and six big butterflies,” she said. “I counted them all. And all the flowers behind the bed are like my own garden.”

“Please don’t water the wall. It would make an awful mess.”

She giggled. “You don’t water walls, Daddy.”

“Oh you don’t?” he said. “I’ve never been very good at gardening, sweet pea.”

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