“My childhood was like that. I guess it’s why I’m the opposite. I like everything to add up, and for all the columns to balance.”
He pulled a sheet out of the pile, then handed it to Katie as he sat down again. “Well, one thing I’ve learned about having kids, no matter how organized and planned you make your days, you’re never going to get everything to add up perfectly. Kids...” His voice trailed off and his gaze drifted to the sofa, where Libby and Henry were laughing at the antics of the sponge and his starfish friend. “Kids change everything.”
“Yes,” she said softly, and her hand strayed to her empty belly, “yes, they do.”
He turned back and his gaze met hers, and held, for one long second. “Thank you.”
The praise made her shift in her seat. “I haven’t even done my job yet. Why are you thanking me?”
“Because...” Sam’s face clouded and his eyes filled, and his voice grew rough. “Because you got Henry to talk. I haven’t heard his voice in a long, long time.” Then, as if the emotion was too much, Sam got to his feet and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the middle of the table. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the paper. “I’m going to write down my cell number. Call or text me if you have any problems. I’ll be back after the interview, and Charity will be here any second, so you should be fine. Libby has a folder of practice sheets in her backpack that her teacher needs her to work on. If you and Libby get along, and this works for you, we’ll talk about a schedule for the next week when I get home. Sound good?”
She rose, too, and closed the gap between them to take the paper, adding it to the one from Libby’s teacher. “Sounds good.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, then to her eyes. “And...thank you.”
She was close. Too close to him. But she couldn’t seem to make her feet move in reverse. “You...you said that already.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just...distracted.”
She wanted to ask him if that was because of her or the job interview or something else, but the doorbell rang just then. The dog started barking, the kids started shouting, and a second later, a sullen twenty-year-old was in the kitchen, and the moment was gone. Charity looked about as happy to be there as a grandparent at a death metal concert.
Sam made the introductions and filled Charity in on Katie’s role. “Call me or text me if either of you have any problems at all. I’ll be back before you know it.”
A few minutes later, Sam was gone. Charity leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her slim frame. “Good luck,” she said.
“Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s just third grade math and reading.”
Charity scoffed. “Yup. And with Libby, that’s about as much fun as negotiating a nuclear war. So I say again, good luck.”
Charity stalked out of the room, scooped up Henry and took him into the backyard to play on the swing set. Katie turned and saw Libby standing in the doorway, arms crossed, defiance in her eyes.
Good luck.
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