Page 65 of Anything But Lonely

“What are you going to do when you’re done singing?”

The question catches me off guard. I stare at him for a second, trying to figure out how to answer something I’ve spent months avoiding.

“I haven’t really figured it out yet, buddy.”

Crew considers my answer, his little brows pulling together like he’s trying to solve a problem I haven’t been able to solve myself. His eyes drift back down to Pepper curled up on his lap, and he runs his fingers softly through her fur as she nuzzles into his leg, purring beneath his touch.

My son’s cat now permanently lives with us since Talia’s neighbor, who was helping out with her, is moving, and I have to figure out arrangements for the damn cat. I can’t afford my son, my son’s nanny, and my son’s cat on tour if I want to avoid an aneurysm.

For a moment, I think I’m in the clear. Crew’s eyes are back on the movie playing in our living room.

Then—

“When can I see Ems?”

I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head despite the smile tugging at my mouth.

This is the third time Crew has mentioned Emerson since Talia dropped him off this morning, and I’ve had to explain three different times that we’ll see her soon, when the tour starts back up again.

Leave it to my son to be a constant reminder of the woman I’m trying my hardest not to think about.

“We’ll meet her at the bus in a few days,” I tell him, leaning forward to grab my phone from the coffee table to order some food. “Now, are you hungry?”

“But I want to see her today,” Crew whines, his attention immediately snapping back to the conversation I was trying to move past.

I can’t help but laugh under my breath.

Of course he does.

Ignoring every attempt I make to redirect him toward lunch, he hugs Pepper closer and looks at me like I’m the one being unreasonable.

Apparently, my son inherited my inability to let something go.

“Ems is busy with other stuff,” I tell Crew, pretending I don’t like how much my son’s nickname for Emerson feels on my lips. “Do you want pizza for lunch? Or maybe a cheeseburger? We can go to the place with the curly french fries”

I think I have him for a second with the mention of his favorite type of fries, but he shakes his head, jutting his bottom lip out as he furrows his brows. Pepper’s eyes loll towards me like she couldn’t be less impressed with me and my excuses.

“Come on, buddy, we need to figure out what we’re doing for lunch. Then maybe after that we can see what Ems is up to.” I can always text her to see if she can squeeze in a quick phone call or FaceTime with Crew, just to hold him off until Sunday.

“Pinky promise?” He holds out his little pinky, and I raise a brow.

“Where did you learn about pinky promises?” I’ve never done them with him, and I”m pretty sure Talia hasn’t either.

“Ems taught me.”

The answer lands heavy.

It’s a stupid little thing. A pinky promise. Barely even a gesture.

But somehow, she’s found her way into the small spaces of his life without me noticing.

The things he says. The things he remembers. The little pieces of her he carries around with him.

I should probably be more concerned about how quickly Crew has attached himself to her. I should probably remind myself that she’s his nanny, that this is temporary, that eventually this tour will end and routines will change.

But the smile on his face when I curl my pinky around his is enough to put off the inevitable for now.

Something I feel like I’ve been doing a lot lately.