Page 54 of A Simple Regret

Maren returns to the table with two cans of Sprite and finally has a seat. Without opening my drink or starting with my salad, I lift a slice of pizza and take a big bite. “Dang, Maren, this is good.”

She looks up, seeming a little unsure. “Really?”

“Hell yeah. Don’t tell my mom, but this might be better than hers,” I insist, not even joking a little bit.

She rolls her eyes. “Not possible, but I appreciate the compliment.”

“I’m not kidding, Shortcake. This is delicious.”

She shifts in her seat. “Well, thank you. It’s really nothing special, just some dough and sauce.”

“Not true. You made it from scratch and from memory. That’s impressive as hell. Not to mention the fact you had all those ingredients in your cabinet and fridge.”

She stabs at her salad with a fork and takes a small bite. “I, uh, make my own bread whenever I can, so I always have that stuff in my cabinet.”

Something tells me that’s one more thing she learned from my mom. She’s always baking fresh bread, saying it’s healthier and cheaper than buying it from the store. Of course, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t pick up a loaf when in a pinch, especially when we were younger. Feeding four kids in the summer is a full-time job in itself, so she’d have to buy loaves from the store to keep up with our sandwich consumption, but she’d still bake loaves when she could, and it was always so damn delicious.

Theo talks while he eats, telling me all about going to daycare tomorrow. Neither Maren nor I seem upset the conversation has shifted toward Theo. He’s a joy to be around, and listening to his carefree chatting is frankly the best part of my day. The high I always get when working on vehicles, especially diagnosing difficult problems, is the same I feel while hanging out with Theo.

And yes, Maren too.

After dinner, we clean up the mess all together, and I try to ignore my racing heart and the contentment I feel at completing such a simple, mundane task as washing dishes. Like a family. Theo helps me dry the stuff and together we put them away.

At first, he didn’t want to help. Instead, wanted to return to the living room and play with his blocks and watch TV. But when I explained that it’s our job to do our part and help clean up, especially after his mom made such a wonderful meal, he eagerly agreed. As long as I was helping too. The entire time, his wide, blue eyes have been focused on me, and I realize how closely he’s watching me, paying attention to my every move.

Watching and learning.

And for that, I feel like I’ve accomplished something impactful.

When the job is done, I’m prepared to leave. Even though I don’t want to. I want to stay, to engage in their beautiful little home life and the family they’ve created.

For the first time since I was eighteen, I feel hopeful, excited, and like that dream is within grasp all over again, and when it hits, it’s with the impact of a thousand bricks being thrust into my chest.

That’s why I should go.

No, that’s why I must go.

I open my mouth to politely excuse myself, but all that flies straight out the proverbial window when Theo beats me to the punch.

“You wead to me, Cam?”

Decision already made, I reply, “I can read you a book.”

“And pway bwocks?”

I chuckle. “I love to play with blocks.”

“Yay!” he says, throwing his arms up in the air in victory. “I go get ready,” he announces before darting off into the living room.

Maren clears her throat and meets my gaze. “If you need to skirt out of here, now’s the time to do it. I’ll make an excuse for you.”

“Do you want me to leave?” I ask quietly, knowing if she says yes, I’ll go without another word.

She holds my gaze, a mix of emotions swimming in those beautiful blue eyes. Finally, she slowly shakes her head. “No.”

The meaning of that single word lifts me up and causes an instant sense of relief, because even though I should walk away, I don’t want to.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”