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CHAPTER THREE

Suki

I’m reaching out to ring Carter’s doorbell for the third time in a row Monday morning when he whips the front door open, glowering.

“Um, hey,” I say weakly, my brows hitting my hairline as I take him in.

He’s only wearing a white towel wrapped around his waist, water glistening on his muscular chest like he just walked off the set of an ad for a manly body wash. His chest hair is just a tiny bit darker than his short brown hair, which is also dripping. And his abs are...not at all disappointing.

“Come on in,” he says, stepping aside. “It’s a shit show in here. Olivia tried to cook breakfast while I was in the shower and it set off the smoke alarm.”

My heart rate kicks up with concern. “Oh God, did something catch on fire?”

He shakes his head. “No, I think it was just smoke. But when Hallie yelled outside my bathroom door that the fire alarm was going off, I tracked water all over the floors running down here to make sure everyone was okay.”

The proof is in the wet footprints on the wood stairs of the open stairway, continuing across the living room and into the open kitchen. There’s still a cloud of smoke in the kitchen and from the smell of the air, it was bacon that Olivia burned.

“Olivia didn’t wait for you to make breakfast,” Hallie says to me in a tattletale tone.

I smile brightly. “Well, she tried to do something nice. And--” I fall silent when my gaze lands on Charlotte.

It looks like someone cut her beautiful chestnut hair with a dull knife. Her bangs are just a short row of spikes atop her forehead and the back is jagged. I turn to Carter, whose expression is neutral.

“Like I said, shit show. She cut her own hair yesterday.”

“Where were you?” The accusatory question flies from my mouth.

He lowers his brows and grinds out, “I can’t be in three places at once. I was coloring with Hallie.”

I walk over to Charlotte and tuck her hair behind one ear, wanting to wrap her in a hug. A drastic haircut is a universal female cry for help, and poor Charlotte has to be hurting.

“Well, this is a look,” I say, smoothing a hand over the top of her head.

She shrugs. “I like it.”

I cup her cheeks in my hands. “Do you really? Because I can take you to a salon today to have this fixed.”

Her eyes widen hopefully. “You can?”

“If your uncle is okay with you missing school today.”

“That’s not fair,” Olivia gripes as she walks into the kitchen. “I have to go to school because I didn’t chop off my own hair?”

Ignoring her jab, Charlotte and I both look at Carter, who shrugs. “I don’t care.” He gives Olivia a sharp look. “I’m going to finish my shower now. No more cooking. You guys can have cereal for breakfast.”

“I’ll make breakfast for them. Do you guys want French toast?”

It’s one of the few things they all agree on every time I offer it.

Carter stalks back toward the stairway, and I can’t resist a quick glance at his broad back. Which isn’t just broad but also muscular. And maybe he’s not stalking , but it sure seems that way because of his size and his mood.

I crack the kitchen windows to let in some fresh air and start gathering the ingredients for French toast. I always follow the recipe I learned from my mom, mixing up eggs, milk, flour, sugar, cinnamon and vanilla. Just the smell of the ingredients reminds me of my childhood.

Olivia is packing herself a lunch to take to school and Charlotte is organizing a folder of papers when Hallie blurts out, “I saw Uncle Carter’s butt .”

I turn to her, amused. She’s covering her mouth with her hand and giggling.

“Gross, Hallie,” Charlotte mutters.

Hallie continues in a loud whisper, undeterred. “There’s hair on his butt.”

“Ew.” Olivia glares at her younger sister.

“Suki, do all boys have hair on their butts?” Hallie asks me.

I never thought I’d be discussing that with a six-year-old. “Some do. We’re all made differently.”

“Do girls have hair on their butts?”

“Hallie.” Olivia gives her an exasperated glare. “Enough.”

I set the first piece of dipped bread into a hot pan. “It’s okay to be curious. Most women don’t have hair on their butts, no.”

“Do you?”

I pretend to peek in the back of my black leggings. “Nope.”

Hallie is so sweet. It hurts my heart that she lost her mom so young. Of the three girls, Hallie is the one I can tell craves hugs and kisses the most, so I make sure to give her lots of hugs and I kiss the top of her head every time I drop her off at school and leave the house for the day.

“Nancy isn’t as nice as you,” Charlotte says a few minutes later, the four of us sitting around the table.

I had a protein shake at home, so I’m sipping coffee while they eat their French toast. “Who’s Nancy?”

“She’s the lady who comes over when you’re busy,” Hallie says.

“The weekend nanny,” Olivia explains. “She was here Saturday.”

“She’s on her phone all the time and she makes gross food.” Charlotte wrinkles her nose.

Carter walks into the kitchen, carrying a packed duffel bag and dressed in black shorts and a gray hoodie with his team name and logo on it. He pours coffee into a travel mug and then looks over at me.

“You’ve got the schedule for the week from the agency. I’ll be back on Thursday.”

Hallie gets up and runs over to hug him, pressing her cheek to his stomach. “Good luck, Uncle Carter. I hope you win.”

He pats her on the head, looking uncomfortable. “We’ll give it our best shot.”

I don’t get how anyone could do anything but melt into a puddle when Hallie looks at them with those big brown eyes. It’s all I can do not to open my arms and offer her a hug myself.

Hallie lets go of him and he picks up his travel mug and his bag, slinging the bag over his shoulder so he can grab his car keys. “See you guys later.”

And that’s it--he walks out the door and closes it behind him. I hold back an urge to roll my eyes. Anyone with a heartbeat should be able to give a better goodbye than that to three grieving little girls. He didn’t even make eye contact with them.

A quick glance at the clock reminds me I don’t have time to lament Carter’s lack of warmth right now. “Hey girls, we need to get going. One minute to finish up and get your dishes into the sink, okay?”

I send a quick text to Carter, reminding him to call Charlotte’s school to have her excused for the day, making sure I include the phone number, which I have on a list of emergency phone numbers for the girls on my phone.

Hopefully he can spare a minute from his busy day to do that.

This time, I do roll my eyes.

“It’s so cool,” Charlotte gushes later that day. “I love it.”

She hasn’t stopped smiling since we left my hair stylist Andi’s salon. Andi came in on her day off when I texted her and gave Charlotte a pixie crop and light-pink color. Her bangs still look unintentional , but it’s much better than before.

“You have the perfect face for that cut,” I tell her as we walk to my car from the ice cream shop we just went to.

Carter gave me a credit card to use for all the girls’ expenses, and today, I didn’t just use it for Charlotte’s hair. I also took her shopping for new clothes and shoes. She’s a natural at thrifting, and I got to hear about some of her mom’s great finds at secondhand stores. It’s the most Charlotte has ever talked to me, and it feels like an all-around win.

“Time to pick up your sisters,” I say as we get in the car. “Let’s not mention the ice cream.”

She gives me a conspiratorial smile. “I won’t.”

We pick up Hallie first, who spills all the first-grade tea. Apparently Stormi broke up with Aiden and Aiden immediately asked Stormi’s best friend, Ella, to be his girlfriend and she said yes.

“Ella, no!” I cry in mock dismay. “Sisters before misters!”

“They aren’t sisters,” Hallie says.

I grin at her in the rearview mirror. “Sometimes girls call their girlfriends sisters.”

“Do you like my hair?” Charlotte asks, turning around so Hallie can get a good look.

Hallie gasps. “I want pink hair!”

“Uncle Carter will say no.”

I give Charlotte a nervous look. “Crap. Should I have asked him before I let you get pink hair?”

She shrugs and sits back in her seat. “Too late now.”

I should probably break the news to him myself so Charlotte’s happiness over her hair isn’t ruined by his ire when he sees it.

When I pull up to Olivia’s middle school, she’s waiting for us. She sighs heavily as she gets into the back seat. “Suki, are you good at math?”

“Uh...I should be able to help if it’s sixth-grade math. What are you working on?”

“Areas of shapes. I have to memorize formulas.”

“I can definitely help with that.”

“Charlotte, your hair!” Olivia squeals. “Let me see it!”

Charlotte turns around. “Suki’s hairstylist, Andi, did it. Isn’t it great?”

“It’s pretty,” Olivia agrees. “Much better than before.”

I give Olivia a grateful smile in the rearview. “Girls, what would your mom think about Charlotte’s pink hair?”

“She would laugh!” Hallie says gleefully.

“I think she’d like it, but she wouldn’t have liked me cutting it,” Charlotte says.

“Hey, at least it’s not a tattoo,” I say. “It’ll grow back.”

“But I want to keep it pink, even when it’s long.”

I’m not sure that’ll fly with her uncle, but I don’t mention it.

“What should we have for dinner tonight?” I ask them. “I have groceries for spaghetti or tacos.”

Hallie and Olivia vote tacos and Charlotte votes spaghetti.

“Could we do spaghetti tomorrow night?” I ask her.

“Sure.”

When we get home, all the girls head off to do their own things. I know the silence won’t last long, so I take the opportunity to text Carter.

Suki: Hey Carter, just wanted to show you what we did with Charlotte’s hair. She’s very happy with it and I think she looks great.

I exhale hard before sending him the text and one of the photos I took of Charlotte at the salon. I’m about to set my phone on the counter and start dinner when I see that he texted me back right away. That’s probably not good.

Carter: OK.

I squint at my phone screen, reading his message again. OK? What the hell kind of response is that? I want to like the guy--really, I do--but he makes it hard. Just because his nieces are here because of an unexpected tragedy, that doesn’t mean it’s okay for him to show so little interest in them.

A pastel hair color deserves something more than OK . Ignoring my voice of reason, which is telling me to be quiet and not piss off my new boss, I fire back a quick response.

Suki: Hope you have an OK game tonight.

I set my phone back down on the counter, my pulse pounding. That wasn’t smart. Should I try to unsend it?

It’s probably too late. I turn my phone screen-side down and start gathering my ingredients for dinner. I’m not going to waste another moment thinking about Carter’s feelings.

If he even has any. Carter very well may be one of those cavemen who only think about sports, food and sex. In which case, he won’t even know that was an insult.

Problem most likely solved.