Now I’m the focus of Tyler’s deep brown eyes, and warmth starts at my toes and fills every part of me until I’m crossing mylegs.
“Congratulations,” Haley sayswarmly.
“Doesn’t matter much if you can’t pick yourcourt.”
My chest warms, and I almost don’t hear Haley ask me, “Are you ready for dress rehearsaltomorrow?”
“Think so.” I’ve practiced everything to death, and I’m going to go through it again in my mind tonight. I’d rather spend my time with Tyler, but that’llkeep.
“Glad to hear it. I feel as if I’ve barely seen you this weekend. What’ve you been upto?”
“Um, Pen and I worked on school applications today. Dad fell asleep and missed all ofEndgame.”
“Not all ofit.”
My gut twists sharply. I turn toward him, and there’s an intensity on his face that cuts through the dreamyhaze.
Did he hear Tyler come home? Seehim?
My heart stops in mychest.
If he did, that could ruin everything in one moment ofstupidity.
If he did, Tyler would be gonealready.
The thought isn’t as reassuring as I’dhoped.
But Dad doesn’t comment the rest of dinner, and the conversation turns to cute things Sophie’s doing, whether I’m going to work at the library again this summer, and a new charity project my dad’s takingon.
After we finish dinner, I help Haley clean up, then volunteer to take Sophie for a bit before herbedtime.
I’ve just put her on my hip when my phonebuzzes.
Tyler:I better hear you practicing through the windowtonight.
This one-handed typingthing must be an acquired mom skill, but I manage to respond without dropping mysister.
Annie:I’m doing a mental run-through.
Tyler:I’m doing some mental run-throughs of myown.
Okay,so now I have to leave time for getting off beforebed.
Not that it’s a hardship. I’d probably be thinking of himanyway.
The sound of a guitar from my dad’s office pulls me in thatdirection.
Normally he does paperwork there, but tonight, he’s playing. I watch him for a minute, the way he and his guitar speak their ownlanguage.
It’sbeautiful.
Sophie’s squeal has him looking toward thedoorway.
“It’s nice hearing you play,” I tell him. “You don’t do itenough.”
“I’m retired.” He shifts back on the stool. “It’s not my life anymore. You girlsare.”
“It doesn’t have to be one or theother.”