Page 53

A pitch that is a cross between a slider and a curveball.
SYDNEY
You wouldn’t believe the shit calls I get over that damn room. Absolutely fucking random. Luckily for me, Sadie takes the calls while I deal with the bank and insurance. Tuesday morning, she tells me she has someone coming over to look at the room.
“No weird fetishes or thirteen cats he wants to bring with him?” I ask, driving to the school to pick up Tatum. We had one lady want to know if her daughter’s cage would fit in the room. Yes, fucking cage.
“He seemed normal. College kid. Said he could pay in full for his rent until August. He’ll be here around three to check the place out.”
“That would actually be perfect because then I wouldn’t have to worry about them being on time with rent.”
“Exactly. See, I did something right.”
“Thank you.”
She snorts. “Don’t thank me yet. I spilled some wine on your carpet.”
“Sadie.” I groan. Sadie spills everything. She’s worse than Tatum. “It’s eleven. Why are you drinking?”
“I mixed it with Tatum’s apple juice. It’s like Sangria.”
I pull into the school parking lot. “Did you try to soak it up with paper towels?”
“I did. I have to go. I’m late for Diesel’s gig tonight.”
Inching forward in the line, I use the mirror to comb through my hair and realize I don’t think I’ve washed it since Sunday morning. Two days isn’t bad though. I’ve gone longer for sure. “Are you coming over tonight?”
“No, I’m gonna stay at D’s place. Is that okay with you?”
I drop my hand in my lap and stare out the windshield at the rush of kids out the front doors. “You don’t have to babysit me.” I can’t deny there’s disappointment in my words. It’ll be the first night I’ve slept alone. Maybe I could invite Emmie over. Or I could convince Tatum to sleep with me. She absolutely hates sleeping in any bed but her own.
Most parents would love that, but when you really want a bed-buddy, she won’t do it.
I end up hanging up with Sadie just as Tatum comes running to the car. She’s wearing those same cowgirl boots she’s been wearing since Collin died and a long bohemian dress that’s purple, green, and neon pink, and an oversized old lady hat she found at an antique store with me last month. It’s freaking adorable and strangely similar to what a little old lady would wear but three feet tall.
The second I see her cute little face, I forget all about my morning at the bank, adulting, and trying to decipher a sense of normalcy I might not have for a while. “How was school?”
She rolls her eyes and flicks her hat up. “I hate school.”
I can’t offer her much on that one because I hated school too.
I take Tatum out for lunch at Chick-fil-A. We make it back to the house just in time to meet the college kid.
It’s shortly after two forty-five when I set Tatum up in the family room withFrozenand discover Sadie really did try to make sangria and spilled it on the white carpet in the living room. That’s what I get for having a white carpet though. I was asking for trouble with that one.
“You good with your movie?” I ask Tatum, kissing the top of her head.
She nods, practically buzzing with excitement and holding the remote in her hand, ready to fast-forward to Olaf. Kid can’t bother to use the toilet on her own, but she can use the remote perfectly fine. Go figure.
The doorbell chimes through the house.
Tatum gasps, eyes wide. “Pizza?”
At least she didn’t mutter under her breath, “What now?” because I certainly did.
“No, I didn’t order pizza.”
Her smile collapses. “I want pizza, pleez?”