the house with warmth, made it a real home. The family I had always wanted and never had. Laughter. Jokes. Even their shoes flung about, and dirty plates made Cliffside feel lived in as never before. The nonsense with losing the note that came with the roses… I brushed that aside. I’d been forgetful and my head scrambled since losing Juan.
I observed Dan now—he was always doing chores and favors for me—as he fixed a loose bolt on one of the sliding doors. His muscles in his forearms flexing, his eyebrows knitted in concentration locked beneath his tousle of hair, he smiled as he worked. I thought about his dead father’s dog tag that he wore every day. It must have been tough for Dan as a boy growing up, not having a father figure. He looked up and caught me staring at him. I felt mortified for a second as if he could read my thoughts, but he just grinned, which made me avert my eyes.
“What?” he said. “What are you looking at?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Nothing.”
“Something’s on your mind.”
“No, really, just watching.”
“Thinking I’m going to fuck up?”
“God, no, the opposite.”
“It bugs me the way it’s been rattling when it’s windy. Just need to tighten it up a bit.”
“I’m impressed, actually. I’m hopeless at handyman jobs. Can’t even change a tire.”
“Man, that sucks. Specially living round here where cell reception’s so crap. You need to know that shit.”
My ineptitude bubbled up inside me. “Just never got around to learning, that’s all. Nobody ever showed me.”
He winked at me. “Probably ’cause men always came to your rescue.”
I had no clever retort so said nothing. He was right. Juan had always taken care of everything. And before Juan, my father.
Dan smiled. “Daddy’s little girl?”
A burn of fury flared in my cheeks. My dad’s voice purred “That’s right,” in my ear—it did that a lot, his voice came out of nowhere, doling out advice, opinions, telling me how I needed him, how he’d “protect me” because “stupid weak girls can’t think for themselves.”
“I obviously need to give you a lesson,” Dan said.
“A lesson?”
“Teach you how to change a tire.”
“What? Now?”
“Yeah, why not? Now’s as good a time as ever. You need to learn to be self-reliant. Something my mom taught my sisters.”
“But I was living here all alone before you three turned up. I have been self-reliant.”
“It’s always a good thing for a woman to be able to get herself out of a bad situation, don’t you think?”
“Well, I—”
“Come on, put something warmer on and we’ll go outside. I’m going to teach you how to change a tire. You’ll be glad I did.”
I grabbed a jacket. Dan opened the door for me. How many twenty-year-olds open doors for women? Dan was always considerate. He’d also leave the last square of chocolate for me, thoughtful details like that. Accompanied by his broad smile, he made little gestures like passing me a cushion, or a throw to keep me warm when we were watching a movie, or handing me my e-reader, before even I realized I was in the mood to read. Sometimes he even suggested a book or author to me; he was surprisingly well read. I loved his taste in books. He was one step ahead of me and my needs. When Dan smiled, a little dimple popped to the right of his cheek. There’d be a wink or a nod, something to make me feel special. And it wasn’t just Dan. The girls, too, could be so adorable. Braided my hair while we watched a film, or sometimes Jen would put makeup on me: blusher, eye shadow, even false eyelashes. She made me feel pretty, brought out my confidence. “There, you see?” she told me one evening. “You look gorgeous.” She handed me a mirror. “See how the blue tones bring out the deep hazel of your eyes?”
The girls were organized, too. Always took care of loading and unloading the dishwasher and, since I’d had that chat with Kate in the laundry room, she and Jen did all my washing for me, to the point where I felt guilty. They’d been staying on friends’ sofas, poor things, so I’d encouraged them to bring all their laundry here. The least I could do.
These three were like the family I’d always dreamed of. Jen had even written me a song.
“I still can’t believe you don’t know how to change a tire,” Dan said.
We went outside. I trailed after him, remembering that somewhere, at