Page 2 of Because of Blake
“Hi!” He doesn’t even glance in my direction as he rushes across the room, disappearing into the garage.
I laugh and turn off speaker phone, grabbing some bubble-wrapped glasses from the box. “So much for that.”
“What a punk. Where’s Syd?”
Glasses in hand, I crane my neck to see around the backyard, glimpsing my eleven-year-old daughter, Sydney, lying in the grass under a tree with her nose in a book. “Take a guess.”
“I don’t remember reading so much when I was her age.”
Sydney has always been a different type of kid. As a young child, she preferred to play alone, using her imagination in some wild ways, but as she’s grown, she’s gained an affinity for reading. Instead of creating the worlds on her own, she escapes to ones created for her. It’s a big thing we have in common.
Dylan comes careening back through the room with two popsicles in his hand. He’s out the door before I even turn around. “Well, I guess you’re not talking to the kids.”
“Whatever,” she says quietly, though I can hear the disappointment. “So, you go back to work tomorrow, but school doesn’t start for another week and a half. What are they doing while you’re at work? Your nanny still coming?”
I pull out the other glasses left in the box and pick at the tape on the bubble wrap. “No. As much as I love her, I can’t ask a woman of her age to drive across town.”
“Mags, Littleton is what, twenty-five miles away? It’s not a long drive.”
“For you or me, no, but this woman is like eighty. I don’t want her driving all the way out here, especially in the winter. Plus, the kids are getting older. We probably wouldn’t need a nanny much longer, anyway.”
“You’re actually thinking of letting the kids be home alone? For a whole day?You?”
My grip tightens on the glass in my hand, popping a couple of bubbles. I hate the implication in her voice. Yes, I may be a bit on the overprotective side, but these are my kids, and I know firsthand how accidents happen when you least expect them. “Not yet. They’re still too young.”
“How old do they have to be to legally stay home alone?”
“Colorado doesn’t have a minimum age for it, but I’m not ready for them to be home by themselves. The school system has a summer program for kids whose parents work, so they’ll do that until school starts.”
“Oh, I bet Sydney’s going to love it, being the social butterfly she is,” Michelle’s words drip with sarcasm.
“Well, she doesn’t have a choice. I can’t send Dylan to the program and let Syd stay home.” With the last of the glasses loaded into the dishwasher, I break down the box they had been in, pinching the edges of the cardboard between my fingers. “I’m sure she could handle it, but I don’t know how Dylan would fare.”
“Oh, please. You know he’d just be on that damn Xbox all day.”
“Exactly. At least this way, I know they’re getting outside and doing activities, all while being supervised.” I drop the flattened box onto the floor and run my hand over my head, stopping when my fingers get twisted in my bun.
“I don’t envy all the motherly anxiety you have, Mags. I’m not saying there’s anything bad about being a mom, but I’m glad I never did it.”
A chuckle escapes me. Kids were never in Michelle’s plan, and as hesitant as she was when we first met, she’s fallen in love with mine. They love her equally as much. She’s like family, hence the name Aunt Michelle. I knew I’d miss having her as a neighbor, but I didn’t realize there would be such a big hole in my life without her living next door.
Speaking of being neighbors.“Hey, what’s a good day for me to come get the mail?” I need to make an appointment with my therapist, and since her office isn’t too far from Michelle’s house in Aurora, maybe I can make one trip instead of two.
“What? No, I’ll bring it to you. I need to see your new place!”
“Oh, right.” I walk to the table, picking up my cup and swirling the remaining coffee. “Well, I’m off Tuesdays and Fridays now.”
“How about this Friday? So I can stay late if I want.”
“Sure. Will Tom be with you?” I tip my cup and swallow down the last few drops of caffeinated goodness, albeit cold now.
“Pfft. He’s such a workaholic; I doubt he’ll be around. Besides, I want girl time. Maybe we can scout the neighborhood for any hot neighborly prospects you might have.”
I roll my eyes. “Michelle, you know I don’t date.” A smirk dances on my lips as I think about what my online profile would look like. A nice picture of myself with my wavy brown hair cascading around my shoulders as I sit on my deck with a book in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other. The details, though, are where I’d rake in men by the thousands. I can see it now.
Thirty-five-year-old, widowed, suburban mom of two, employed part-time as a paralegal at the same firm for over a decade, with no other ambition, seeks man who–
My stomach drops. Betrayal creeps up my spine as my husband’s face jumps into my mind, his shining hazel eyes staring at me. I always told him his eyes put my plain old blue ones to shame. He never agreed, and I miss hearing him say mine were the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.