If It Makes You Happy(95)

I blink at her. “What the hell are they teaching you in school nowadays?”

She slouches. “I don’t like it when you mope.”

“I’m not moping. Wait, did Carol tell you to say that? Or Lars?”

“I wouldn’t mind if you dated Michelle.”

My stomach drops. I know time has passed, but I always assumed Emily would feel betrayed, having another woman in the house who isn’t Tracy. Brittany is too young to remember me and her mom as a unit. But Emily is sixteen; hell, at this point, she probably knows more about dating than I do.

I tilt up my chin. “Aren’t you supposed to be mad at me?”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees. “Gotta keep that up for another few days at a minimum.”

“Makes total sense,” I say through a half smile. I sigh. “And, yes, Michelle and Sara can come over for a girls’ night. As long as we never talk about me dating ever again.”

With a grin, Emily jerks out her hand. “Deal.”

I shake it. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

With a satisfied hmph, Emily strides away from me, leaving me in the drama section by myself to cope with this news of a sleepover with a woman I can’t be with.

There’s some irony in there somewhere.





CHAPTER 30





Michelle




Popcorn topples down from the couch cushion again, missing Sara’s mouth by almost a foot.

“Okay, try one more time,” she says, leaning on her knees.

Brittany rears back and tosses the kernel. Sara twists, it lands, and she raises her arms in victory. Carol, Emily, Brittany, and I clap and cheer.

I’ve never had a girls’ night with anyone except my sister. Then again, I’ve never had many friends aside from Sara either. At least not close enough to be invited to pajama parties. I don’t know what that says about me.

We’re in the Burkes’ living room under a makeshift fort of pillows and blankets. Bedsheets hang from the top of the couch, knotted to corners of kitchen chairs with hair ties and scrunchies and pinned behind the television, so the entire world is blocked out aside from us and Rock-a-Doodle. Snacks fill bowls, plates, and the ground.

“Miss Shell, can you braid my hair?” Brittany asks, squirming on a pillow.

“I’d love to.” I sit on the couch as she straightens up on the floor below me.

A door outside our fort creaks open, and my spine stiffens the moment I hear it.

“How’s it going in there?” Cliff’s voice asks.

I haven’t spoken to Cliff in nearly two days. Forty-eight hours of only seeing his daughters and waving from afar. But now his voice strikes a bolt through my nerves, and I’m stock-still.

“It’s fun!” Brittany calls.

“So-so!” Emily answers sarcastically with a wide grin toward me. She’s continuing to get her kicks messing with her dad.

“Terrible!” Carol adds.

“Good,” Cliff says with a low chuckle. His laugh … “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Dad, are you going to the kitchen?” Emily calls.

“Yeah. What do you need?”

“Gummy worms.”

“How many have you eaten?” he asks suspiciously.

All of us stare at the large bag with four remaining worms.

“None,” she lies.

“Who cares?” Carol amends. “It’s a girls’ night!”

“Girls’ night!” Emily adds through cupped hands.

“All right, all right,” he says with a husky laugh. “Be back.”

The moment his footfalls disappear, I feel like I can breathe again.

My fingers thread through Brittany’s hair strand by strand, and when I finally look up, Sara is staring back at me with one gummy worm hanging between her lips.

She sucks it in and mouths, Are you all right?

I nod stiffly and return to braiding.

I’m not all right. I’ve been thinking about Cliff’s words for two days now.

“Because I’m really confused about us and I’m trying to sort through it.”

“Because you mean more to me than just a simple, confusing kiss.”

We haven’t talked about it like we said we would. The inn has been too busy, he’s been trying to soak up as much time with his girls as possible before they leave for their mom’s, and honestly, we’ve been avoiding each other.

I want to talk to him, but I don’t know what I’d even say. I miss talking with him so much that it hurts. I miss our nights on the front porch. I miss racing down the inn steps together. I miss his sarcasm. I miss the way he challenges me.

My neck tingles again when I hear Cliff approaching. The curtain to our fort slides to the side, held by Cliff’s big hands with trailing veins and defined knuckles and wrists. I miss those hands—touching my knee, my back, my hair. I hate that I miss those hands.

And then his head pokes in.

It’s a weird thing, seeing someone you know so well but feeling like they’re a stranger. He’s only a few feet away, but it’s so distant at the same time. My hands, tangled in Brittany’s hair, suddenly feel clammy, like he’s a popular boy in high school I have a crush on instead of Cliff Burke. My Cliff Burke.