“I need to go to the drugstore,” I blurt without thinking, and everyone looks at me. Crap. “I need to pick up shampoo and body wash.”

“We can do both,” June suggests, and everyone agrees, making me wish I hadn’t opened my big mouth. There is no way I can get what I actually need from the drugstore with my sisters and mom present.

“We haven’t had a girls’ shopping day in forever. I love that idea. After we finish breakfast, we can walk to the drugstore down the block, then since I drove your dad’s SUV and we can all fit, I’ll drive us to the mall,” Mom says excitedly, and my stomach sinks as I listen to them all talk about what stores they want to go to. I cringe when they start talking about having lunch and seeing a movie after shopping.

While they are distracted, I pull out my cell phone and don’t even look at the few texts I have, since I’m sure they’re all from my sisters and mom asking where I was this morning. I go to my search link and google information about the morning after pill, feeling relief when I read that I have to take it within seventy-two hours after unprotected sex for it to be effective.

“Did he text?”

At April’s question I quickly exit the page I was looking at and glance at her. “Umm.” I click on my messages, and my heart beats harder when I see he did—not once but twice. The first message from him came in late last night when I was already in bed asleep.

Home in bed, thinking about you.

The second message is from early this morning.

What are your plans today? I’m taking the boys to the batting cages this afternoon then coming home to watch the Mets on TV and eat junk food.

“He did,” I whisper in disbelief.

“What did he say?” April asks, keeping her voice surprisingly quiet.

“He asked what I was doing today.”

“Did you message him back?”

“Not yet.” I shake my head, looking back at my cell phone and wondering exactly what I should say.

“Tell him you’re spending the day with your sisters but you’re free tonight if he wants to do something.”

“It’s Sunday.” I sigh, knowing how crazy Sundays are for me and I don’t have kids. I need to get ready to face another week of school.

“So?” April prompts, and I look over to find her frowning.

“He has kids,” I remind her, and understanding fills her features. “He can’t exactly come see me without having someone to look after them, and I don’t know if we are at a place where he’d feel comfortable having me around his boys.”

“You’re right. Still, you can let him know you do want to see him. Unless…” She pauses, studying me. “Do you want to see him again?”

“Absolutely,” I say, knowing without a doubt that there is something between us worth exploring, even with all the hurdles we might have to face along the way.

“Then you should tell him that. I know we think men should be able to read our minds, but they can’t. They only understand directness.”

“How do you know that?” I raise a brow.

“Because unlike you, my sweet, rule-following sister, I have had to experience falling for a guy, thinking he could read between the lines, and the unfortunate luck of finding out he couldn’t.”

My heart aches and a lump forms in my throat when I see the deep hurt she always tries to hide. I know she’s speaking from experience and talking about her ex, Cohen Abbott—the only guy she’s ever really loved, and the one that got away.

“I….” I don’t even know what to say to make her feel better. I can’t imagine having the image of the man I once loved forced down my throat each time I turned on the TV or looked at the magazine rack at the store. Or worse, having to hear his voice every time I turned on the radio, singing a song about lost love that I know is directed at me. “Maybe—”

“Please don’t,” she whispers tightly, cutting me off, and I swallow hard. “Just text Gareth and let him know you’d like to see him.”

“Okay.”

She looks away, and I pull in a breath, look down at my phone, and start to type.

I just saw your messages. I overslept this morning and had to rush to meet my sisters and my mom for breakfast, AKA an interrogation session regarding you and our date last night. Somehow, in the last few minutes, I’ve ended up agreeing to go to the mall and maybe a movie. I should be home by five. I don’t know if you’ll be free this evening, but if you are, I wouldn’t hate seeing you.

I press Send before I can talk myself out of it then hold my breath when a bubble appears under my sent text.

Interrogation? Should I come rescue you? I’m not sure I can get away this evening, but if you feel like eating pizza and wings for dinner, you can join me and my boys in front of the TV at my place.

I read his text and breathe, “Holy cow.”

“What?” April asks.

I lift my eyes off my phone to look at my sister. “He said I could join him and his boys for pizza and wings tonight.”

“Awesome, are you going?”

“I don’t know.” I look back at my cell and type quickly.

Do you think that’s a good idea? Is it too soon for me to meet your boys?

My phone rings in my hand and his name flashes on the screen, making me feel elated and freaked. “I’ll be right back.” I don’t even lift my head, even though I feel everyone’s eyes on me. I slide out of the booth then step out of the restaurant, putting my phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“I want you to hear my voice when I say what I’m gonna say.”

“Okay.” I wrap my arm around my middle, not sure by his tone if I’m going to like what he has to say.

“You already know Mitchell.”

“I know, but that’s—”

“And,” he cuts me off before I can explain how me knowing Mitchell at school is completely different from me seeing his dad and going to his house. “I wouldn’t have you over if I didn’t know it was inevitable that you’d be spending time with my boys. I already wasted weeks trying to deny the way I feel and am pissed at myself that I lost time I could have spent getting to know you because I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” I whisper, feeling lightheaded by his words.

“Not anymore, which is why I’m not going to play this cool and see you when I see you, which, baby—” His tone softens. “—it wouldn’t be often. I work two jobs and have two boys. I don’t have a lot of free time to take you out, so if we’re going to do this, we need to jump in and figure it out along the way.”

“Three jobs,” I state.

“Pardon?”

“You work as a mechanic, a tattooist, and you’re a dad. So, really, you have three jobs,” I say, studying the sidewalk under my flats and wondering how he’s able to do everything he does. I have one job and myself to look after, and some days that seems like a lot of responsibility.

“I guess you’re right,” he agrees quietly then asks, “So what’s it gonna be Ember are you gonna run or jump?”

I think about every moment I’ve spent with him and all the things he’s made me feel since the we met, and ask, “What will you do if I run?”