Page 14 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

We mutter our assent.

Lennon steeples his fingers. “And you all have to quit calling me a hipster.”

Jake snorts. “Forget that.”

E downright guffaws. “Not happening.”

“But he is a hipster,” Cal says with exaggerated confusion.

“The clothes speak for themselves,” I say, gesturing to his skinny jeans and short-sleeved floral button-down, which he for sure bought at a thrift store.

He mouths, Fuck off, then points to his room. “You and I need to have a word in private.”

He marches ahead of me and swivels once we’re alone, pointing at my chest. “This is my livelihood, and those kids’ parents will be putting their trust in you. So I need a promise that you feel capable. That those courses you took sunk in.”

Instead of slapping his pointing finger away like I normally would, I blow out a rough breath and pull him into a hug. “Thank you for this. I know it’s asking a lot, but I took those courses seriously. I won’t let you down.”

He sags into me and hugs me really fucking tight. “I’ve missed you, man. This you,” he adds.

“Yeah.” I pound his back. “Me too.”

We step apart, and his hipster smirk returns. “Please tell me there’s a picture of you at the babysitting course.”

I raise my middle finger. “I’ve rented a small house in Ruby Grove. It’s an hour from Windfall. Close enough without inviting a shit ton of gossip, and most hiking trails are between the towns. Figured I’d put flyers around that area, and I’ll ask E to put some up in Windfall. Get as many kids involved as possible. Do you have something standard you do? Or should I make my own?”

“I have stuff. I’ll email you the basics, and you can fill in the dates. With the shorter notice, enrollment will likely be small, but”—he nudges my shoulder—“I appreciate the effort, brother of mine.”

“Like I said, I’m taking this seriously. Hopefully Sadie agrees to the plan.”

Her potential reaction is one of a million concerns that’s stolen my sleep recently. When texting each other the past weeks, I kept my intentions about our meeting vague, preferring to broach this proposition in person. I’ve also refrained from asking about her personal life. Max is my focus. I’m a new dad trying to navigate new-dad difficulties. There’s no reason whatsoever—absolutely none—to get personal with Sadie at this juncture. If she’s dating someone, I doubt I’ll even care.

Frowning, I rub the twinge in my chest.

Lennon scratches his neck, his attention darting between me and his hipster shoes. “You must be losing your mind about seeing Max.” His eyes flick up to catch mine. “You doing okay?”

On the verge of puking again most days—my new super fun, stress-induced habit. Thankfully, Mirielle has been extra pushy with the crocheting, which is a disaster for my thick fingers, but the focus occupies my mind. “The lead-up is a lot, but I’ll be fine.”

“What about Sadie?”

“What about her?”

“Have you asked if she’s single?”

The turbulent seas in my stomach take an uneasy sway. “It’s not important right now.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Because you’re worried about what she’ll say?”

“Because”—I lean into him and curl my lip—“it’s not important right now.”

And why does it suddenly feel so damn warm in here?

“You know . . .” Lennon clasps his hands behind his back and sways slightly. “I’m sensing a pattern with you.”

“Funny, I’m sensing you might get punched in the face.”

He waves his hand vaguely. “Your whole tough-guy thing, shutting out the family for months at a time, pretending you’re not dying to find out if Sadie’s single.”

“Is there a point to your useless observations?”