What was worst...the fact he hadn’t thought of Charlene during the invitation. Guy wiped a hand down his face. With a sigh, he removed a picture of Charlene from his wallet. Was that really how she’d looked? Slowly but surely, his brain struggled to recall her exact features. The wallet-size portrait had become his memory as time had slowly erased the mental images he could conjure.
The picture had become worn, marking the numerous times he’d looked at. He held it in his hand and stared at the love knot in the other. How had life gotten so complicated?
Once upon a time, he had lived to see Michelle’s face light up when he whispered “Chelle belle” in her ear. Then he had met Charlene years later and knew what real love looked like. Now he was seeing Michelle again. In person. Alive. She was something Charlene would never be again. Here. In the present and it was eating him alive.
Not knowing what to do with all his emotions, Guy stuffed the picture back in his wallet and slipped the ring into his front pocket. Resting his arms against the bench, he leaned back and stared out at the lake. It was time to clear his mind of all thought and rest.
Guy’s alarm went off shortly after, reminding him it was time to pick up the twins. He headed to Nana Baker’s house, but his mind had failed to become blank. Instead he was plagued with life questions. How had his life become so routine? He needed it to be, especially for the girls, yet he craved more. He thought about the night out with the guys.
They had reminded him what it was to just be. Not to have to be a hero and slay the closet monsters or those creepy beings who Bekah insisted lived under her bed. He didn’t have to be the tough law enforcer for the young deputies, or even the stoic boss for Holly.
When he hung out with Evan and Darryl, he was just G. Personality wise, he fell right in the middle of his boys. He wasn’t a goofball like Darryl, although he could tell a good joke. He wasn’t the charismatic good boy like Evan, but he didn’t have to be. They let him be just Guy. Not even, Guy, like his mother pronounced it. They had no expectations but for him to be their friend. Be himself.
He needed that.
He was tired of filling and meeting the demands of those around him. What would Michelle demand of him? Come on! He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Why can’t I get that woman out my mind?”
His breathe came out in huffs finally subsiding to normal as he picked up his girls from Nana Baker’s home. Still, his mind was aware of how Michelle always seemed to linger in his thoughts. Never mind that he had to act normal around his kids. No, Michelle would wait until he had the time to focus on her. It’s maddening.
As he entered his house, Guy hung up the girls’ light coats as they continued chattering.
“And Nana let us bake cookies. We both helped, Papa, and then we got to lick the spoons.” Rachel stopped and looked at him with a mischievous smile.
He could only imagine what the sugar would do to them. He was glad their stomachs were no longer upset, but he didn’t know how he would handle the excess energy that was probably ready to implode at the first sign of silence. “What kind of cookies did you make, Peanut?”
“Chocoa’ chip cookies, Papa. With nuts!” She clasped her hands together and he wanted to laugh. She looked like a prim schoolmarm.
“I ate the nuts, Papa,” Bekah said, smiling shyly.
“Good job, Jellybean.”
Her smile widened, and he felt his heart warm. There was no doubt he could use a vacation, but their sweet smiles made it all worth it. What would he do without them? He snorted in derision. Probably fall apart. He walked to the kitchen. “What do you girls want for dinner?”
“P-ghetti!” Bekah cried, clapping her hands in delight.
“Not again.” Rachel looked at her twin and frowned.
The annoyed look on Rachel’s face erased his earlier foul mood. Holding back laughter, Guy turned to Rachel. “What do you want for dinner, Peanut?”
“Cheese sticks! Miz Chelle made them for us. They were yummy.”
Michelle cooked?
He paused, the fridge door held open. Of course, she did. He hadn’t expected the girls to go hungry, but he figured she’d stop at McDonald’s or something. But cheese sticks?
“You ate cheese sticks for dinner?”
Rachel propped her hands on her hips. “Silly, Papa. It was for our snack. We got to dip the cheese in crumbs and bake them.”
“Vewy yummy, Papa,” Bekah said.
She made cheese sticks from scratch?
Guy didn’t know which surprised him more—that the girls had fun at her house, or that Michelle cooked food from scratch. He’d assumed she lived strictly on takeout.
“Can Miz Chelle come ove’ fo’ din...dinnuh, Papa?” Bekah clasped her hands in supplication. Her big black eyes reminded him of a puppy dogs’.
“Uh...”
“Yes, Papa, you have to invite her over.” Rachel looked at him expectantly. “Call her.”
Did he have a choice?
Sure he did. He was the adult. Just say no. Yet something inside him tugged at him to extend the invitation. Guy picked up his cell and dialed Michelle’s number, hoping she wouldn’t answer. For a brief moment, he thought about praying for it, but the thought made his collar suddenly seem too close to his skin.
“Hello?”
She answered. He closed his eyes in defeat. “It’s Guy.”
“Oh. Is something wrong? Did you find out anything else about Mr. Davenport?”
“No, actually I was calling because the girls wanted to know if you could come over for dinner.” His insides clenched, part of him hoping she would say no and the other dreading she would say yes.
“Oh.”
The shock in her voice made him want to cringe. The girls stared at him, hope making
