“Okay, let’s go,” I say. “Bring the towels. I’ll return them later.”

“What’s for supper?” Dylan asks, and I shrug. “Can we have the rest of the pizza?”

“Works for me,” I say, thinking of the leftovers I was going to throw out.

“I want three slices,” he says when we walk back into the apartment. I put the pizza in the oven to warm up and then look at Dylan.

“Go grab a shower,” I say, and he nods, stopping to get an apple on his way to the shower.

“Do you want to shower before or after me?” Caroline asks me.

“Truthfully,” I say, and she looks at me. “I want to shower with you.”

She looks down and then shyly looks back up. “But I can go after you.”

She walks to me and gets on her tippy toes. Her hands go on my waist. “I want to shower with you, too.” She kisses the side of my lips and then walks away from me to my bedroom and then the shower. I make sure everything is set, and when Dylan comes out, I see he’s wearing some of the new clothes I bought him.

“It’ll be ready by the time I get out of the shower,” I say, and he nods.

“Okay, I’m going to go watch television.” He smiles at me. “I had fun today.”

“Me, too, buddy,” I say, and he stops.

“Mom never has fun,” he says softly and then makes sure that his mom is not around. “She cries a lot at night.” I want to tell him to stop, but he doesn’t. “And I know that my dad took my stuff and sold it.”

“You don’t know that,” I say to him, trying to defend his father.

“He takes anything that we have, which is why we don’t have anything,” he says. “He says he’s going to get better.”

“One day,” I say. He just shrugs and walks away, and my heart breaks for the kid who wants his father, who knows his mother cries, and who just shared with me a secret that I won’t be able to tell his mother.

Chapter Thirty

Caroline

I look at the pile of clothes I now have, but I separate them into one pile of the clothes I’ll wear, and the other of the clothes he will eventually return. Today with him and Dylan by the pool playing games, talking and getting to know him was everything.

Having not to think or worry or even care was something I don’t think I’ve ever felt. I flip through the clothes, not even trying to imagine how much it cost him. Or that he actually called his sister and she did it, no questions asked. I try to ignore the fact that his family is going to be coming this weekend and I want to be out of his hair.