Page 136 of The Offside Rule
From the kitchen, I looked over. “Cole cried during Moana?”
Catherine glanced at me. “He said it was allergies.”
“Allergies my ass,” Taylor said, then winced.
“Language,” Isla scolded.
“Sorry,” Taylor apologized.
Isla clutched the remote to her chest. “Okay, we’re watching Moana.”
I grabbed the popcorn bowl from the cabinet, because if I stood there much longer watching Catherine and Isla talk about Disney movies, I was going to start imagining things I had no business imagining. Like Catherine knowing where we kept the blankets. Catherine helping Isla pick a movie. Catherine sitting on my couch like she belonged there. I dumped kernels into the machine and forced myself to focus on butter and salt instead of the dangerous little ache behind my ribs.
Catherine laughed at something Isla said, and the sound moved through me like a hand under my shirt. I turned my back to the living room and stared at the popcorn machine like it had personally offended me. Get it together. This was not a date ora family night. It was definitely not some date thing where the woman I was falling for watched a movie with my daughter while her best friend acted as a buffer and pretended not to know everything. Except it kind of was. And that was the problem.
By the time I brought the popcorn out, Isla had started the movie and tucked herself deeper under the blanket. Catherine’s feet were curled under her on the couch. Taylor had already stolen a throw pillow and looked entirely too comfortable for someone helping me hide an emotional disaster. I handed Isla the big bowl.
She looked inside. “Did you put enough butter?”
“Yes.”
Catherine tried to hide her smile. I sat in the armchair because sitting on the couch would have been too obvious. Also, because if I sat anywhere near Catherine, I would spend the entire movie thinking about touching her hand, which would be both stupid and impossible. The movie started. For about twenty minutes, everything felt almost normal. Isla sang under her breath. I sat there pretending I was not memorizing the way Catherine relaxed around my daughter.
“That part always gets me,” Catherine said softly when Moana stood with her grandmother near the water.
Isla nodded. “Me too. But not in a crying way.”
“I get you. I only cry for super sad things,” Catherine said.
“Like what?” Isla asked.
“Commercials with dogs,” Catherine replied. “I always wanted a dog, but my parents were always too busy.”
“What kind of dog do you want?” Isla asked.
“A golden retriever,” Catherine replied.
That’s when Isla looked at me. “What kind of dog does Molly have?”
“I think she may be a golden,” I replied.
Isla’s eyes widened. “I love those.” My daughter seemed to be as head over heels for Catherine as I was. “Daddy does too.”
Catherine glanced my way like she was having a thought about all this dog talk. It felt like something deeper was passing between us. I was envisioning us as a couple, with Isla and a golden retriever standing between us. I wondered if she was thinking the same thing.
Then the doorbell rang. Every muscle in my body locked. Isla groaned. “No interruptions during Moana.”
“I’ll get it,” I said, standing too fast.
Catherine’s smile faded. Taylor’s eyes sharpened. I crossed to the door and checked the peephole. Then I closed my eyes. My parents stood in the hallway. Mom held a bakery box. Dad held nothing.
I opened the door halfway. “Hey.”
Mom smiled too brightly. “Hi, sweetheart.”
Dad looked past my shoulder into the condo. “We brought cookies.”
“Why?” I asked dryly.
