Page 131 of First-Time Caller
“Oh yeah?” After tier three, I’m not sure I want to hear it. My brain is stuck on the phrasebumping uglies. From the mouths of babes.
“Tier four was falling in love,” she tells me, distracted, finding her other shoe beneath the kitchen table. Her body twists as she wiggles it on. “Aiden was a surprise,” she mumbles.
My throat feels tight, my stomach somewhere by my toes. I wish I was still doing the dishes, just so I had something to do with my hands. “What do you mean?”
She scratches her nose and starts hunting for her backpack. “I did my research before calling in to his show. He was grumpy most of the time, but he seemed like he’d be willing to help. I thought he could help you find what you deserve, but . . .” She gives me a sly look. “He got invested pretty quick, huh?”
“I don’t know. Not that quick.”
Maya tips her chin down and gives me a look. “Sure, Mom.”
I feel properly chastised. “He was a surprise for me too.”
Isn’t that how it goes? The most precious, delicate things wedge themselves between the plans you’ve made for yourself. They wiggle in your arms and wrap their tiny fingers around your thumb after nine months of bone-deep panic. They barge into your kitchen looking for condiments.
They answer a phone call in the middle of the night.
There’s a ribbon wrapped around Aiden and me. It’s taken me a while to undo the tangles, but I’m tugging on it now.
“I just feel like, all things considered, I deserve some ice cream,” Maya adds conversationally.
I roll my eyes, doing my best to subdue my smile. “We had ice cream last night.”
“Moreice cream,” she says, slipping on her backpack and straightening the straps. “Three times a week, at least.”
“Is that the going rate for those who intervene in their mothers’ love lives?”
She nods. “I’ll get it in writing. Have my people talk to your people.”
“Noted.” I muss her hair and turn her gently in the direction of the back door. I can see Grayson waiting on his porch. Mateo is fluttering around the kitchen, probably trying to salvage whatever disaster Gray came up with tonight. “Be good for your dads, kiddo.”
She hops down the stairs, backpack bouncing with her. She stops on the last one and turns halfway, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, her face pensive. My heart gives one painful, adoring thud, right in the middle of my chest.
“You tell me all the time you have all the love you need. That you’re fit to burst with our family and all the people in it. But I thought, maybe just this once, you could have the love you deserve too.” She smiles. “Tier four.”
My nose burns. “Maya,” I rasp. I have to swallow around the love that’s making my throat feel tight. She smiles up at me and I think she knows. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
“Duh, Mom.” She laughs. Somewhere on the other side of the fence, I hear Grayson’s laugh echo it. Mateo’s too. She bounds across the yard, hair flowing behind her in the setting sun. Like a comet streaking across the sky. “Tell Aiden I say hi!”
I hear him before I see him, his low voice rumbling down the hallway of the otherwise silent station. I asked him if he needed a ride tonight—his Bronco is still in the back corner of the shop—but he said Jackson was giving him a lift. Apparently, everyone meets for a staff meeting on the last Wednesday of the month. I guess that’s still going on.
I decide to raid the break room for Aiden’s latest coffee hiding spot when I hear my name. I pause, shift on my feet, and listen. I hear it again, coming from down the hall. Close to Maggie’s office, where the door is wide open. I put the cookie/coffee tin down and consider my options. Eavesdropping is juvenile, but curiosity is a bitch. I’ll only listen for a second, I reason. Theydidsay my name. Twice.
I creep closer.
“You haven’t told her.” Maggie sighs. “Aiden. We talked about this a week ago.”
“I know,” he says, sounding reluctant. I glance at the glass of the dark booth, a wavy reflection of them in Maggie’s office. It’s only the two of them, so . . . maybe not a staff meeting, after all. I watch mirror Aiden drag his hand through his hair. Anchor it against the back of his neck. “It hasn’t come up.”
“It hasn’t come up?” Maggie asks dryly.
“No. It hasn’t come up.”
“When will it come up?” Aiden doesn’t answer and Maggie makes another frustrated sound. But when she talks again, her voice is softer. “You can’t tell me you want her out of your booth and then boot her off the show without warning. That’s not how I want things to run here, Aiden.”
My stomach twists. He wants me out of his booth? Off the show? How long has he been talking to Maggie about this? A week? Longer?
Before I stayed the night at his place?
