Moonlight on Nightingale Way(48)

I had to do it.

Shoving the moment out of my head, I moved into the doorway of my guest room to see Maia packing her clothes into the suitcase I’d left out for her. “Nearly ready?”

She looked up and gave me a tremulous smile.

“Sweetie, are you all right?”

She shrugged, and then she was crying again. “I’m going to miss you.”

I walked into the room and drew her into my arms. “I am not going anywhere. I will be right next door, and you can come see me anytime you want.”

I let her cry for a little while longer, and finally she pulled away to start packing again. “I’m a wee bit nervous,” she admitted.

“That’s perfectly natural. But you and Logan are going to have an amazing time making up for lost years.” I gave her a teasing smile. “Still, try to take it easy on him.”

Maia giggled and nodded. She gave me one last hug, and I walked her to the door. Logan was waiting in his doorway, and he came over to take the suitcase from her.

It was only a few steps, but it felt like miles as I watched him lead her across the landing. She gave me a watery smile and disappeared.

Logan nodded at me, and I gave him a little wave before shutting my door.

Sliding down the door, I landed with a little bump on my bottom as I stared despondently down my hall.

My despondency did not last. I didn’t have time for it because any concerns I had about not seeing Maia (and yes, maybe Logan too) were put to rest when it became perfectly apparent than neither she nor her father had any intention of forgetting about me.

Two weeks later I was standing in my kitchen. The first week in May had passed us by, and I found myself doing something familiar.

Eating dinner with Maia and Logan.

Somehow we’d fallen into this pattern together. After school Maia usually spent time at either Leigh’s or Layla’s house for an hour before coming home to me. She’d do her homework and I would help if I could, while I got dinner started in time for Logan to finish work. If I was too busy with my own work to cook, I ordered takeout for us all.

“Layla said what?” I shook my head, thinking I’d heard wrong.

“Layla said that she thinks our history teacher, Mr. Tatum, is having an affair with the music teacher, Mrs. Rogers.”

I shared a worried look with Logan.

We were sitting around my kitchen counter eating Chinese takeout. “And did Layla witness something that made her think this?”

“Yup. She said Mrs. Rogers fiddles with her wedding ring every time she’s talking to Mr. Tatum.”

“How bored must this girl be to notice that shit?” Logan looked as flummoxed as me.

“I think the more important point here is that Layla should not be spreading rumors based on a woman fiddling with her wedding ring.”

Maia shrugged. “I didn’t say it.”

“Well, maybe you should get Layla to stop saying it.”

Maia bugged out her eyes at me. “It’s Layla. Only the British Army and a Challenger 2 tank could get her to stop talking.”

Logan choked on the bite of food he had just taken.

I took a sip of water to hide my smile. When I felt composed, I faced her again. “Maia, spreading rumors is wrong.”

“I know. I won’t do it,” she promised.

“Pass the prawn crackers.” Logan gestured to me, and I slid them over the counter to him. “I found out who was stealing at work,” he said as he piled rice and chicken onto a cracker.