acting as if he talks, I don’t know, and yet I know he’ll find a way to communicate with me, just as I’ll find a way to understand. “All right, bud? Okay?”
“Say goodbye to Ally now, Dylan,” the principal says firmly. She’s put one hand on his shoulder and I can tell he doesn’t like it, although he doesn’t move. He simply looks at me with that fathomless, unblinking stare, and I want to hug him, but I don’t know he’ll react and it’s clear the principal and special ed assistant both want me to leave as quickly as possible.
So I do, straightening with a smile, giving him a little wave, and then walking quickly out of the building. I don’t know why I’m so close to tears as I head back to the car, forcing myself not to look back even once.
Two weeks ago, I’d never even heard of Dylan McBride—now I know his last name, along with his birthdate, his height, his weight, the bedtime stories he likes, the fact that his favorite color of Lego brick is green. A couple of days ago, I was half-hoping his mother would get him back. What has changed now, that is making me feel as if I’ve left part of my heart back in that school? Everything and nothing, and I don’t even know why.
I think of his grin as he handed me the puzzle piece a few days ago; the feel of his little hand limp in mine. The way his eyelids flutter when he sleeps. That trusting, unwavering stare. I draw a shuddering breath and then I get in the car.
The house is quiet as I unlock the front door and step inside; it’s the first time I’ve been alone in it in nearly two weeks, and it feels both unsettling and like a relief. I drop my keys on the kitchen counter with a clatter and I look around the gleaming, yawning space of the empty kitchen and wonder what to do.
Of course, there are a million and one things I could be doing. Work, for one. I’m more behind than I ever have been, and while the firms I work with have been understanding, they won’t be forever. And then there’s laundry, which has piled up for several days, along with the sacks of apples, and all the other housework—I don’t think I’ve changed Josh’s sheets since at least a week before Dylan came.
With a sigh, I decide the first thing I’m going to do is make myself some coffee and simply sit in the sunshine streaming in from the French windows and just be. Breathe and sit and think. It sounds wonderful.
I’ve just switched the coffee maker on when the front door opens and I hear Nick sing out a jaunty, “Hel-lo!”
“What are you doing home?” The question sounds a bit ungracious, but I’m surprised. He left for the office less than two hours ago.
“I thought I’d come back and see how the morning went.” He seems strangely buoyant as he comes into the kitchen, shedding his briefcase and then his suit jacket like a man who has been let off the hook.
“You could have just texted—” I feel slightly grudging of losing my solitude for the first time in weeks, although I try to hide it, because Nick seems so cheerful.
“And I wanted to see how you were doing.” He shimmies over to me and snakes his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. I put my arms around his neck, trying to smile, but the truth is I’m not really in the mood.
And I can tell Nick is, as he nuzzles my neck and says in a voice full of deliberate, Casanova-like swagger, “We’re alone for what feels like the first time in months.”
“Weeks, Nick, not months…”
He reaches down to pop the button on my jeans, and I manage a half-hearted laugh.
“Nick, it’s not even ten in the morning.”
“So?” He gives me a teasingly lascivious look, and I wonder how I can feel so utterly unsexy. This is really just about the last thing on my mind. Nick hasn’t even asked how it went, if Dylan settled, if he screamed.
He unzips my jeans. “Nick…”
“Come on, Ally. Don’t you want to?” He gives me a little boy look and I try to smile. “I came home specially.”
“I know you did.” I can feel myself crumbling, because he did come home specially, and we haven’t had any time together. If we can’t work in