Page 29 of Falling for Keeps

“Which teacher did Penny get?” I turn my focus to getting a sharp line.

“Mrs. Bloom.”

I pause, looking over my shoulder at him. “That’s who I had.”

“No way. She’s been teaching that long?”

“I think she’s pretty close to retiring. Penny couldn’t have gotten a better teacher.”

“Mrs. Vest was pretty great, too.”

There’s a note of something in his voice I can’t identify. My hand pauses. “You didn’t ruin her life by taking her away from those friends and that teacher. Kids are resilient.”

“How do you know?” he asks softly.

I lower my brush. As a youth services librarian, I’ve had plenty of training in child development, but that doesn’t make me an expert. This man has been a dad for nine years, and I only know the things I’ve read in textbooks and what I’ve gleaned from working with kids for the last five years. I do believe every word I say, but I have a feeling citing studies or professionals isn’t what Carson needs to hear right now. “How old were you when you moved here?”

“Not much older than Penny.”

“Did it ruin your life?”

He quirks a smile. “The opposite, in fact.”

His scruff is well-trimmed, his hair a bit of a mess, and he looks tired. I want to run my hands through his hair and fix it, but he’s out of reach. His unkempt look is natural and down to earth. I need to focus on the matter at hand. “That’s proof enough, right? Besides, I can’t help but think she’ll be better off around Sharon than without her.”

“We agree on that.” He goes back to rolling the wall. “My mom is amazing. But Pen’s missing out on regularly seeing her mom. I wish I could change it, but you can’t force anyone to want a relationship with their child.” His bitterness is telling. I don’t know if it’s geared at his ex or something else, but the level of vitriol in his words is real. “I don’t think it’d be much different if we’d stayed in Tennessee, though. Jen moved to Nashville a year ago.”

“Were you far from the city?”

“Just over an hour, so it wasn’t terrible, but even if we stayed, she wouldn’t be taking Penny every other weekend or anything like that.” He moves faster, his irritation bleeding into his actions. “I got full custody too easily.”

“That really sucks.”

Carson faces me, lowering the roller. He pauses, trying to read me like I’m the latest Giants stats. “It does. It really, really sucks.”

Our gazes latch to each other as the tension in the room tightens. He sets the roller in the paint pan and walks toward me. I don’t know if he wants to reach for me, but his hands look anxious for something to hold.

He slides them into his pockets, his chin tipped so he can look right in my eyes. “You don’t pity me.”

Is this a trick question? It isn’t a question at all, but I sense something way deeper than a minor observation. “True.”

“Everyone falls into one of three camps when I talk about my divorce: pity, curiosity, or self-centeredness.”

I shrug. “Not everyone, I guess.”

“You aren’t going to ask me what went wrong?”

“It’s none of my business.” I’m insanely curious, but I’d never push him.

Carson shakes his head. “You’re the first person, besides my family, who has given me room to feel…I don’t know…annoyed, I guess.”

That can’t be true. The first? “How long have you been divorced?”

“A few months, but she asked for the divorce over a year ago.”

I lean on my right leg, popping my hip a bit. “There’s no way I’m the first.”

“Believe it.”