time for you?”
He nods, reaching for a toolbox next to the door. “I’m ready.”
“Can I help with watching Sierra?”
Dominic glances toward the living room where his daughter is curled up with an afghan watching cartoons. “That would be great. She still gets distracted while she plays outside and doesn’t watch for cars.”
“No problem, you’re doing a huge favor for us, so I appreciate it.” I point to Arlo, who lifts his arm with a small wave, the action drawing my attention to his very defined muscles and has me remembering what it felt like having his arm around me not too long ago…
“Us?” Dominic asks, breaking my trance-like state.
I snap my gaze back to him, and his grin lets me know that he most definitely caught me staring. “What’s that now? Us? Us who?” God, I couldn’t sound more off-kilter if I tried.
His grin doesn’t lessen. “Should I grill him? Ask him all the embarrassing questions? Tell me what you want to know. How many girlfriends he’s had? Why they’ve broken up?”
I shake my head. “He’s actually Rose’s friend. Well, my friend now, too, I guess. But it’s not like we’ve labeled it or anything. Not that there’s anything to label … we’re just taking it day by day … you know, being friends, that is.” Well, look at that, I just outdid myself.
“Friends. Got it.” He gives me an exaggerated wink as he passes.
My heart thunders in my chest, praying he doesn’t say anything to Arlo that makes me sound like I said something to imply we’re dating. I roll my shoulders and pop my knuckles—something I haven’t done for years.
“Hey, Sierra,” I say, stepping into the living room. Dominic’s apartment is bare, making Rose’s and my apartment look homey and comfortable in comparison. He has a single black leather couch and a giant TV in his sparse living room.
Sierra looks at me, untucking a Barbie from the blanket. “Hi, Olivia.” She knows my name because I met her yesterday on my way to pick up our mail, where she proceeded to tell me every detail about her doll collection. I listened because she’s quite possibly the cutest mini-human on earth, and there’s a spirit about her that is contagious. It reminded me a bit of Arlo and my mom’s ability to see good and positivity in everything. Well, Arlo, when he’s not paranoid about the curse, that is. I soaked up the small amount of sunshine peeking through the clouds and listened to her tell me about her room at her mom’s that they’d painted purple, how much she loved blueberries, and why she thought she should get a pony for her birthday.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching cartoons.” She turns her attention back to the TV.
I sit beside her, my thoughts wandering to the time my mom and I painted my room yellow for a short time, and of Arlo outside with Dominic, likely hearing something embarrassing and untrue about my feelings or intentions. My thoughts slowly settle on brunch with Rose’s dad. Even knowing Rose as well as I do, my understanding of her relationship with her dad feels like a finger-painting: messy, incomplete, and novice.
“That’s the bad guy,” Sierra tells me, pointing at the TV. She proceeds to tell me about each character, the plot, even the different outfits worn. It has me feeling like I’m six again and watching my mom’s best friend from the third row of the theater. My feet propped up on the hard, wooden backs of the chairs with a dozen untouched toys still in my backpack. The same level of enthusiasm had captured me then, and it leaves me wondering if she has the same love and how she might apply it later in life.
“Wait.” Sierra’s attention flips from the TV to me. “Do you like my daddy? Are you guys special friends?”
I nearly balk and then swallow a giggle as I shake my head. “No. We’re just neighborly friends.”
Her eyes narrow with scrutiny. “Are you sure?”
I smile. “Positive.”
“Mommy says boys and girls can’t be friends.”
“Why not?”
She lifts her narrow little shoulders.
“One of my best friends, when I was little, was a boy—he was my age,” I tag on, wondering if this advice was more of a warning that’s being repeated without proper subtext. “Friends don’t have to fit a specific model. They just need to be kind.”
Sierra tilts her head. “Daddy says Mommy isn’t very nice.”
I inwardly cringe, wondering what kind of landmines I’ve stumbled upon. “My parents didn’t live