Page 71 of The Do-Over

“Being hard-headed.” Stretching a hand on the wall beside the door, he glared toward his apartment. “Move it, Lilah.”

“Not going well?” I asked.

“You know, my mom used to tell me she hoped I had a kid just like me when I grew up.” The door slammed and Lilah stomped down the hallway, arms crossed.

“Oh? You liked birds too?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Not quite. Let’s say I was… What’s the word? Stubborn?”

“I bet you were just focused.”

“No, ornery.”

“Determined?”

Nate grinned. “Obstinate. Willful. Mule-like. Cantankerous. Unreasonable. Trouble with a capital T.”

Nose in the air, Lilah brushed past us without so much as a hello.

He snapped his fingers. “Oh, I remember. Pigheaded.”

“You’re rude,” Lilah said from the living room.

“I really hate that my mother was right.” He put his hands on my shoulders and I ignored the shock that buzzed through me. “You are an angel for watching her. I could kiss you.”

“Yes, please. I wouldn’t mind at all.”

I realized my mistake in an instant. I hadn’t thought that; I’d said it. Out. Loud. My face went nuclear, and I was pretty sure I was one step away from disintegrating into a pile of burnt ashes and embarrassment. “No, that’s not what I meant to say. I meant, I wouldn’t mind at all if Lilah came over every day. That’s what I meant.”

He grinned slowly. His eyes warmed with humor and something else, something that made my stomach flip. It made me wonder what would happen if I leaned in just a little. What would he do? Would he kiss me again?

“Pu-lease,” Lilah yelled.

With a wink, he dropped his hands and shuffled around me. What had just happened? Absolutely nothing. Get it together, Perci. I fanned my face and took a steadying breath, before following him into the living room.

Lilah was sitting on my couch, feet propped on the coffee table. Already showered and in her pajamas, her hair resembled a tangled nest constructed by drunk birds in the dark.

She scowled. “Don’t you have to go to class?”

Nate dumped her backpack on the dining table. “Lilah.”

Lilah put a hand to her hair. “I hate when you brush it.”

“If you won’t let me brush it, we’re cutting it.”

Tears glistened at the corners of Lilah’s eyes. “You can’t cut it. Mommy said my hair was pretty.”

With a grunt, Nate dropped his head and ran a hand over the back of his neck, but not before I caught a flash of pain. Was he thinking about Lilah’s mother? And here I was, fantasizing about kissing him. Not that I’d ever ask him, but I couldn’t help wondering about Lilah’s mother. Had she and Nate been married? Was he grieving the loss of the love of his life? Did he think of her often and wonder how his life would be different if she were still here? Despite his heartache, he seemed to be adjusting well to life as a single dad. But maybe he was sad or lonely, even scared about the future?

It’s none of your business, Perci!

After a moment—I suspect he counted to ten—he raised his eyes and said, “Look, you need to brush your hair. And you can’t talk to me like that. Maybe I need to reconsider you being in that talent show.”

That caught her attention. Mine, too. I had heard nothing about a talent show. Lilah scrambled to her feet and held her hands out, palms up. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll brush my hair, I promise.”

After leaping over the coffee table, she grabbed her backpack and rummaged around before pulling out a wide-toothed comb. “See?” She stuck it in her hair and yanked. The comb didn’t budge.

She winced; I winced.