#stepdad!h

At first, (Y/n) was a bit astounded by it. She knew he was a bit clumsy, of course he would be! It was in his DNA to be bad at sports, he had asthma and his own mother could barely kick a ball. But she didn't know this was affecting him negatively, she always thought he was more inclined to the arts, like her.

On the drive home, she and Cauã had a conversation and decided to try new things. (Y/n) suggested soccer, basketball, baseball, but he would deny everything, mumbling he was scared of the ball– No wonder he was her child.

So as they were passing by the beach, she realized they were in California. Why not try some water sports?

When she suggested surfing she could see the adorable toothless smile she was so fond of appearing on his face through the rearview mirror.

When they got home she immediately looked for Surf Schools near the area of Windansea Beach. It was the closest beach, only a ten-minute drive from their place. The sea was not rough there, so (Y/n) wouldn't feel so scared of having Cauã swimming and surfing there.

After some time researching on Google, (Y/n) found the perfect “school.” The lessons were held from 2 pm to 4 pm every Saturday and Sunday, and the best part was that you didn't need to buy a surfboard, they would lend one for each kid during the teaching.

(Y/n)'s wallet cried reading that. Raising a kid with only a small studio where she would teach art wasn’t exactly easy, but she always managed

The next thing they needed was a surf suit, Cauã wanted it to be yellow. So they both went shopping, and couldn't be happier to find one in a swim shop.

And that's how (Y/n) ended up getting dragged through the sand by her own child.

They were a bit late, (Y/n)’s art studio wasn't supposed to be open Saturday, but one of her students wanted to practice on their sculpture, so she couldn't say no. (Y/n) ended up closing the school 2 hours later, which made her and Cauã late by 15 minutes. It wasn't even that much, but he was being a little dramatic.

When they spotted the small group of children and their parents at the next lifeguard tower, Cauã left her hand and went running to them.

That left (Y/n) alone, looking like a crazy woman at the beach, with her overalls stained with clay and her hair looking like a bird’s nest due to the ridiculous wind.

"Cauã, don't run! You're gonna end up needing your inhaler," said (Y/n), running to him. She could see the head of the group ahead turning to them. Oh great. Now she was a late and crazy parent.

(Y/n) always tried to be the best parent she could be. Ending up pregnant at 19 wasn't easy, but being judged by her age was the worst part. She knew Cauã wasn't missing out on anything by having a young mother, but (Y/n) still didn't like the look people gave when she told them she was 25 years old with a 6-year-old boy.

They got closer to the group of people, right when a man greeted them. "Oh hello, you must be–" said the man looking at a blue notebook, probably one of the teachers, she knew this class had two. "(Y/n) and Caun?"

"It's pronounced as Kauan, sir, it's a Brazilian name!" answered the boy to the tall tattooed teacher. He wasn't what she expected a children's teacher to be. "My mom is a bit disorganized with her time so we–" continued Cauã.

"Hey hey, I'm not disorganized, mister,” murmured (Y/n) to Cauã.

"I'm sorry, I had a bit of a problem at my job, that's why we are only 15 minutes late," explained (Y/n), now looking at the teacher. He was probably Mr. Styles, since the other teacher was supposed to be a woman.

"Well, Mrs. Mila just finished talking to the parents and the kids about the rules while we are surfing, so they can go on and start doing some exercises. I'm afraid both of you are gonna have to wait a little more to get into action."

What an asshole, (Y/n) thought, they couldn't have lost that much information in such a little amount of time.

After the man finished scolding (Y/n), Mrs. Mila, a blonde woman in her 30s, called the parents and the kids to follow her to another part of the beach, closer to the sea.

Everyone besides (Y/n) and Cauã.

Cauã looked at his mom, face filled with disappointment. There was the worst part of motherhood, the guilt of not giving your best to your kid.

Before (Y/n) could comfort Cauã or scream at Mr.Styles – she hadn't decided which one to do first – the teacher put a hand on Cauã's back and told him softly.

"But it's ok buddy, you will catch up to them real fast, we just need to talk about how to be safe and understand the sea first."

"Ok Mr. Styles," answered the sweet boy, smiling at the man.

"Don't need to call me Mr. Styles, alright? Just call me Harry."

Maybe he wasn't that much of an asshole, at least he realized (Y/n) was the one to blame, not Cauã. She also recognized a British accent in his voice.

"So I see you got your surf suit on, it looks really nice on you. Is yellow your favorite color?" asked Harry sitting down in the sand. Cauã did the same thing sitting in front of him, happy to have a one-to-one time with the teacher.

(Y/n) didn't quite know what to do with herself, should she sit down with them? Stay standing? She decided on the first option, sitting by Cauã's side.

"Yeah! I love every color but yellow is my favorite, it's my mom's favorite too." Harry looked at (Y/n), looking at her yellow-and dirty–overalls.

"Yeah, I see that," hummed Harry.

“Cauã is here because the school thought he is a bit behind on his motor skills, so we think surfing is a good option,” interfered (Y/n), looking at Harry with attention this time. His eyes were green, and his surf suit was black, the tightness of it made the muscle on his arm show up.

“Mom, don’t tell him that,” mumbled the boy embarrassed, looking at her.

“It’s alright Cauã. If you really wanna stick to surfing, we need to have good communication, and that means talking about things we don’t like,” said Harry. He could feel the boy’s discomfort.

(Y/n) also heard how Harry said Cauã’s name correctly, most people don’t even bother getting it right, since it’s not an English name.

“While we are at the sea bad things can happen, so we always need to tell our colleagues what we are feeling,” he continued, looking at Cauã and then at (Y/n). “Is there something you want to tell me before we start talking about the rules?”

Before (Y/n) could answer for him, Cauã spoke quietly. “I have asthma. That’s why I can’t run as fast as the others.”

Harry smiled at his response, a weird excitement on his face. “Guess what!”

“What is it Mr.Sty- Harry?” bubbled Cauã, sitting now on his knees.

“I have asthma too! You and I are alike, don’t you think?”

(Y/n) could swear she saw stars in her son’s eyes. Cauã’s dad wasn’t around much, picking him up here and there to spend an afternoon in the park or at his place. But after he moved away to Nevada, almost 6 months ago, the boy never saw his dad again, not in person at least. Sometimes they would video chat for 10 minutes. It was good to see that he finally felt close to a man’s figure.

“Wow, that’s so cool! That means I can be strong like you someday.”

“Exactly! If you decide that surfing is your thing I will make sure you turn out even better than me.” Harry smiled. “But now we have to go through some rules, ok?”

The boy confirmed.

“If you ever feel any kind of pain or discomfort, you need to tell me, Mrs. Mila, or your mom because your well-being is what comes in first place,” explained the man with a serious tone. “Especially when it comes to your asthma, if you feel the need to use your inhaler while you’re surfing you need to let us know as soon as possible, so we can bring you to the sand.”

Cauã was nodding in response all along.

“I believe your mom keeps one with her, right?” asked Harry, looking at (Y/n), brows raised, waiting for a response.

"Of course! I always keep two in this bag and-”

“Ok, thank you,” interrupted Harry.

(Y/n) was growing mad at the teacher. He had the right to be mad about the lateness, but continuing to treat her harshly even after she explained it was due to her job?

"We have a very treat people with kindness policy, so we are always respectful. We don't hit and don't call names, alright Cauã?"

Look at the rude man talking about kindness, (Y/n) thought to herself. Good thing her boy would never do anything like that, he was the most gentle human ever.

"The last rule is you always listen to me and Mrs. Mila because the ocean can be dangerous, and I need to trust that you will follow our lead in any type of situation." Harry reached his hand out to Cauã. "Can I trust you? Do we have a deal?"

Without hesitation, he answered, grabbing his hand and shaking it, "Of course Harry, I'm a man of my word."

"Man? You barely lost your front tooth!" teased Harry, (Y/n) couldn't help but laugh. "Now you can join Mrs. Mila and the other kids, me and your mom need to talk for a bit."

The boy did so, getting closer and closer to the group of people who were only 10 meters away. The parents were talking while sitting on a blanket. The kids were mirroring the other teacher doing jumping jacks.

"Does he have any other condition?" asked Harry, the smile on his face long forgotten.

"He is prone to get pneumonia so if we have a cold day we probably won't come." She was now standing on her feet, just like the teacher was. "Oh and he broke his wrist 2 years ago, don't know if that's important."

He wasn't looking at her now, he was writing things on the notebook, probably repeating what she told him in the paper.

"It's good to know," he mumbled,"because punctuality is really important for us. I hope that won’t happen again tomorrow,” continued Harry with the same scolding tone as before.

“That won’t happen, Harry,” answered (Y/n). They were going to be the earliest people at the beach tomorrow and next Saturday. It was a promise she just made with herself. Maybe she could work later on Friday and be free all Saturday. Yeah! That’s what she was going to do.

“Please, call me Mr. Styles. I prefer to keep the relationship with the parents more professional than with the kids.”

(Y/n) could feel the blood going all the way to her cheeks. Fuck. She thought it was ok to call him by his first name since he let Cauã do so.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disrespect you in any way.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry Mrs-?”

“It’s Miss actually, Miss (Y/L/N).”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. His dad is coming to town in a few weeks, so maybe he’s gonna miss a few lessons. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

“It won’t, don’t worry.” The man just hummed in response, picking up his surf and turning around, going after where his students were.

(Y/n) couldn't help but look at his butt (respectfully). That suit was really doing wonders. But she stopped looking when his head turned to her.

“You have clay and yellow paint in your face, Miss (Y/L/N),” he simply said, leaving the girl alone to clean her face while she cursed herself over and over. Cauã could have warned her about it!

“Ok guys, everybody has their surfboards, right? I want you to put them in the sand and lay down on them. We are gonna learn how to paddle,” explained Mrs. Mila. The blonde woman seemed tougher with the kids than Harry since he was always joking and clarifying the doubts his students had with a smile on his face.

While Harry and Mila were giving instructions about paddling, (Y/n) and the other parents - three moms and two dads - were talking about their jobs and having small talk. (Y/n) liked Miranda, Clara’s mom. Clara was a girl the same age as Cauã she was also a teacher, but unlike (Y/n) she worked in a real school, not in a small rented studio.

“Okay, now that you know how to paddle, we are gonna learn how to pop up on the surfboard. The ones you have are longboards and they have more space to stand up, and if you applied the paraffin the right way there won’t be any problems,” (Y/n) heard Harry say. He was demonstrating while Mrs. Mila went around the six kids, making sure they were doing it right.

“The method we are using is called ‘sliding the knee’. You first slide both knees forward and into th- not like that Clara, position your knee first, and then your feet- Yeah, like that,” he continued. “You put the other knee into the surfboard and bring the front foot forward, in between your hands - Exactly Clara, now you got it right- and then you stand up.”

(Y/n) could see that Cauã was having a bit of an issue understanding how to do it properly. Mrs. Milla was having to position his knee for him. The other kids seemed fine. Clara was a bit uncoordinated too, but Harry was there helping her.

She felt like she made the right choice choosing such a small class. There were only 6 students, so the teachers really took their time with each one of them. Cauã didn't have that in PE class so if he was having a hard time the teacher would only tell him to pick another activity.

As a teacher herself, (Y/n) knew how hard it could be to teach. Normally she would only teach teenagers or adults how to paint or draw and they weren't a handful, but kids? They were hard.

“Let’s try the pop-up until everybody gets it,” said Mrs. Mila to all six kids, still trying to make Cauã put his knee a bit more forward.

The class was almost over, the kids were training to paddle and pop up together and all of them were getting better at it. Clara and Cauã weren’t confusing the right foot with the last foot anymore.

“I think that’s good for the day guys, it's already 4:05. Tomorrow you're gonna train how to paddle and pop up the water! No riding waves though,” said Harry, helping the kids by putting the surfboard inside the lifeguard tower. He probably asked for the key, or he was committing a crime against private property. (Y/n) wouldn't be surprised by it. “Ok, I think we are all done here. Does anyone have any questions?”

All parents said no, waving goodbyes, wishing a good evening, so Harry came back to organize his belongings. He pressed a kiss to Mrs. Mila’s cheek before she turned around, in the direction of the street.

Cauã headed to (Y/n) and she congratulated him. “You did so well, baby! I’m proud of you.” She noticed it was becoming a bit chillier. “Put this jacket on, it's windy right now.”

She helped the boy put on his clothes, the yellow of the suit making a pretty contrast between his green jacket. “Do you think I’m too slow, mom?” asked Cauã while (Y/n) put his arm through one of the arm’s holes.

“Of course not honey, why do you think that?” (Y/n) questioned, placing her warm hand on the boy's shoulder and closing the coat’s zipper.

“Jake could stand up without stumbling on his feet right away,” answered the boy, looking down.

“People learn things in different ways, and at the end of the lesson you did get it right a handful of times, and that’s what matters, ok? Now let’s go home. Guess what we are ordering tonight,” said (Y/n), trying to comfort him.

She knew it worked when she saw that adorable smile and heard him bounce in excitement.

“It’s pizza, isn’t it?!”

“Exactly, my smart boy,” she laughed, hugging him by the shoulder, leading them away from the beach.

“Hey, Miss (Y/L/N),” she heard Harry say.

“Yes?”

“Make sure to clean your face tomorrow.” A smirk appeared on his face.

(Y/n) turned Cauã away from Harry and showed the teacher her middle finger. He just smiled, turning away to pick up the paraffin packets, heading in the opposite direction.

“I think Harry is really funny, mom,” said the boy, heading to the car.

“Oh yeah, Mr. Styles is lovely,” answered (Y/n) with sarcasm. Cauã didn’t get it. “Now go on and buckle up, you can choose the song for the road.”

When they got home, (Y/n) made sure Cauã had his shower and afternoon snack. The boy started to eat so much, she was gonna be bankrupt if he kept the habit of eating one package of cookies every single day.

After Cauã was all set up in his Avengers pajamas, (Y/n) decided to finish some drawings she had been working on. It was difficult to get inspiration lately, every day was monotonous and uninteresting.

Maybe this summer she could make a little trip with Cauã and rent an Airbnb. She was going to be insane if she kept her little routine of teaching and coming home, of course now both of them had gatherings at the beach, but (Y/n) still missed something. She was eager for something more.

"Hey, what about after the week you spend with your dad we go on a little vacation? We could go camping for a couple of days, or rent a cottage in the mountains somewhere," suggested (Y/n) to the boy playing with the Legos.

"In the mountains?" asked Cauã, looking up, abandoning his toy. "What if a bear eats us, mom?"

"No bear will eat us, they will all be frightened by me," played (Y/n), flexing her arm. "Look at this muscle. I'm strong, baby."

"Mom, I'm sorry, but I don't see any muscles there."

"Oh, you don't? Could you please tell me who opens your peanut butter jar every morning?" smiled (Y/n) getting closer to him. It was time for the tickle monster to appear. "Who built your bed? Me! Me and my muscles."

(Y/n) was getting closer and closer, Cauã's eyes were big and alert. "What are you doing, mommy?" asked the boy, getting ready to run at any moment.

"It's tickle time!" screamed (Y/n) going after the boy, his laughter filling the whole room.

He first jumped on the couch, and then both of them ran circles around the table before (Y/n) finally got the boy, tickling him.

"Mom!" laughed Cauã when (Y/n) got closer to his belly. It's where he was the most ticklish.

(Y/n) noticed he started to be out of breath because of the laughter, so she stopped, putting him on her lap.

"Ok, I give up, you won. Now breathe a little," her hands were making circles on his back, chin resting on the top of his head.

"I'm good now, mom, It's fine."

The sound of the house bell was heard, and the door handle opened. A tall woman got inside the house, a pizza in her hands.

"Auntie Jesse!" screamed the boy hugging Jesse, (Y/n)'s older sister.

"Hi bug, how are you?" she asked, putting the pizza on the table, greeting (Y/n) with a kiss on the cheek.

(Y/n) had given one copy of the key to her when they first moved in years ago. It was safer considering Cauã only had her and Jesse as caretakers. If anything were to happen to (Y/n), Jesse would be able to get into the house.

It was also good to have a key copy with her because (Y/n) tended to lose her keys a lot. One day, she and Cauã had to wait two hours outside their own house because (Y/n) lost the key and they needed Jesse's.

"I'm good. Did you know I started surfing today?"

"Oh, your mom told me. How was it? Did you like it?"

(Y/n) listened to Cauã tell his aunt about their day at the beach while she got the table ready, placing the plates and the cutlery. Yeah, they ate pizza with forks and knives. It was a “Brazilian tradition” her dad taught them. (Y/n) and Jesse couldn't quite let it go, even after his death 6 years ago, the same year Cauã was born.

"– And Harry is the other teacher, he is super cool, auntie," continued the boy. He was so happy talking about the teacher, (Y/n) almost felt sorry for rolling her eyes when Harry was mentioned...almost.

As they sat to eat, they would make small conversations, Jesse told (Y/n) about her new gigs as a photographer, and (Y/n) made sure to fill her in about how the art school and the lack of inspiration. Even Cauã added to the conversation, complaining about how boring his cartoon was becoming.

"Mom, can I watch Netflix? Please?" asked the boy after they finished eating, putting his dish on the sink.

"You can, but only the cartoons and movies are available for the kids’ profile," warned (Y/n).

Last month (Y/n) caught Cauã watching Big Mouth and almost had a stroke. He got into her profile thinking it was his. Since then she's been paying more attention to the things he was watching.

"Here, let me help you with the dishes," offered Jesse. "So it's been hard to paint again?"

(Y/n) grabbed the dishcloth and started drying the dishes Jesse was cleaning. "Yeah, it's like I can't find anything beautiful to paint. I only keep on making sketches of Cauã and random flowers. How can I teach art if I can't make new drawings?"

"Well, I think you are too stressed out these past few days, Cauã's dad coming to town and you having to bring him every day to the art classes you teach,” said Jesse.

She was only 2 years older than (Y/n). They grew up together as best friends due to the small age gap. Jesse, short for Jéssica, was the rebel child, so you can imagine their parents' reaction when sweet little (Y/n) was the one who showed up pregnant.

"I think you should go out. When was the last time you went somewhere without the little bug?" asked Jesse, finishing the last plate. "You know you can count on me to take care of him for a few hours. Maybe try going to a pub. It's summer now, you should be able to rest a bit.

If (Y/n) was honest she sincerely couldn't remember the last time she went to a place that wasn't filled with toys or kids running around.

"I think you are right. I've been so caught up with work lately. My art shouldn't even be considered a work, you know?" she admits, sitting on the couch with her sister. "I love teaching and I love art, why is it so exhausting? And Cauã is the sweetest boy in the world but he sure is impatient. I bring him to work and he only complains about going home. But what should I do? Leave him home alone? Hell no.”

The words were spilling from (Y/n). She truly needed to talk about this because she was so tired of handling everything on her own, and her sister was always the one to make her say the things that needed to be said.

"What about this: I take Cauã next Saturday night for a sleepover and you got to The Spot? I've been there a few times and enjoyed it."

She really wanted a night out, even if she didn't particularly have anyone to go with her because she was a grown woman! She could enjoy her own company for the night.

"Hm, okay! I guess Saturday will do, Cauã's lessons end at 4 pm, so I have plenty of time to dress up, I can even wash my hair."

"Yeah! Good, maybe you can even get laid. It's also been some time, right?" joked Jesse. "The last time you dated someone was last year. I think you should give it a go."

John was the guy's name, they dated for 8 months and broke after he decided it was too much for him… Cauã was too much for him.

After he left, Cauã was so sad. He enjoyed the guy's company and that’s why (Y/n) wasn't going to date anybody until her son was older, they didn't need another person leaving them alone.

"Definitely not dating anyone," laughed (Y/n). "And not getting laid too, I have my hands, thank you very much."

"Alright alright, whatever you want," teased Jesse, getting her car keys, ready to leave.

"I will be here Saturday, just call me when you're ready. Me and bug are gonna have an amazing time."

"Bye, love you," she kissed (Y/n) cheeks, yelling goodbye to Cauã on her way to the door. The boy yelled back, saying he loved the aunt too.

And in a few moments, the little family was alone again, it's always been the two of them together. It was tiring but she wouldn't have it any other way.

It was already 10 pm, 30 minutes past Cauã's bad time, so she made her way to her room, where the little boy was watching tv.

"Come on baby, it's time – Oh god! You’re watching trailer park boys? What have I told you about those types of cartoons?" The boy was looking at her like a deer in the headlight. "Ok, it's over for you. Bed now. No more Netflix alone from now on."

"But mom." Whined the boy, jumping off his mom bed

"No, don't wanna hear a thing. Let's go to bed. You have surfing lessons tomorrow again. You need to be well-rested.”

With a hand on his bed, she guided him into his room, tucking Cauã to bed, making sure he didn't need anything.

"I love you, ok?"

"Ok mom. I love you too. I’m sorry."

"It's alright, just no more snooping around on my profile mister. You have your own for a reason. Now go to sleep. Close your eyes and–?" She waited for him to respond to their well-too-known sentence.

"–dream of the prettiest skies," he gave a big stretch, already closing his eyes.

When (Y/n) flipped the switch the room went dark, and she was alone again.

The next day (Y/n) followed with her promise. She was at the beach by 1:25. Even the teachers weren’t there yet, so she decided to do some drawing in the sketchbook she made sure to bring. Maybe the ocean and little seashells could help her bring out the art inside of her.

Cauã was also very happy because that meant time to play in the sand and build sandcastles. (Y/n) made sure to draw Cauã having fun, playing with little seashells.

The parents all began to show up. The first one was Miranda, Clara’s mom, a little girl with beautiful curls and tanned skin, who went to play with Cauã while her mom talked to (Y/n). Cauã decided that she was the warrior and he was the king of the sandcastle.

When it was 2 pm, everybody was ready to start the lessons. The parents were sitting at their usual spot and the two teachers had all the surfboards ready to go.

“Hi, little people. As we said yesterday, we are paddling,” said Harry, with a smile on his face as usual. “I’m gonna form 3 groups, 2 of you in each one, so this way Mrs. Mila and I can assist you guys better.”

“There won’t be any sharks there, right?” asked Penny, a red head two years older than Cauã. “I watched Jaws. They are big and eat people.”

All the kids looked up at Harry with a terrified face, waiting for what the teacher had to say.

“No kids, you don’t have to worry about that. We are only going on the shallow part.” The next part he said was in a lower tone, so Mrs. Mila, who was waxing the surfboards, wouldn't hear it. “And all the sharks would be scared if they saw Mrs. Mila. She’s quite scary, isn’t she?”

The kids only laughed, after each one pinky promising they wouldn’t say anything to the other teacher.

“Alright, let me make the groups. When I say your name, go and stand next to your mate. Group 1 is Penny and Nick, group 2 Jack and Malcolm, and last but not least group 3 with Clara and Cauã.”

The little surfers were all organized. (Y/n) made sure to notice the boyish smile on her son’s face when he was teamed up with Clara.

“Group 1, let's go. Grab your surfboard and go with Mrs. Mila.” Harry took his surfboard, guiding the children. “Nick, you are with me. Penny, you go with her.”

And with that they started their lessons, training how to swim while on the surfboard, how to stand up on it and safety rules they must learn while at the sea. The other kids were at the sand playing, waiting for their turn.

All the groups were making rounds of 15 minutes each, the first 4 kids were getting the hang of it, but when it was Cauã and Clara's turn, the two of them were a bit… bad.

(Y/n) would never say that to Cauã, but that boy seemed like he had no control over any of his balance. Damn, she should have put him on sports sooner.

Every time he would stand up on the surfboard he would fall, Harry was quick to catch him, putting him back again, encouraging Cauã to try again. She could sense the boy was becoming frustrated.

That became clear when the lessons were over and Cauã and Harry got off the sea. Harry was saying something to the boy who had teary eyes. (Y/n) could only understand it once she got closer to them, feeling worried about the boy.

“That’s completely normal, Cauã. When I started surfing I didn’t even know how to swim! But I learned and today I'm even competing in championships!” (Y/n) heard the teacher saying. He was kneeling on the sand to be the same height as Cauã.

“Hey, what happened?” asked (Y/n), popping down on her knees next to Harry, looking at her son. “Why are you upset, baby?”

“I couldn’t stand up, mommy.” A pout was on his face. “And everybody else did it. I’m not good at it. I don’t wanna surf anymore.”

Harry was ready to interfere when (Y/n) started speaking.

“Baby, listen to me. You can’t give up every time you don’t get things right.” Harry was looking at her with a side-eye. “Surfing is like drawing. When you do an ugly one you take out a new paper and try it again and again until you get the results you want,” she explained to the boy the best she could.

“If I had given up on surfing on my first attempts I wouldn’t even be here in California.” Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. “I see a lot of potential in you little man, and I hope you can see it too.”

Cauã only nodded, hugging (Y/n) by her hip.

“Thank you, Mr. Styles. I’ll make sure to talk to him at home. He’s just a bit upset now,” explained (Y/n), stroking Cauã’s hair. “Say bye, baby, we need to go home.”

Cauã said his goodbyes, staying quiet the whole way home. (Y/n) just hoped he would be thrilled about the lessons next week.

The week went by fast. (Y/n)’s inspiration was slowly coming back thanks to the beach. She realized going there for a few minutes every night was making her lines more dedicated, and their little trips also made Cauã excited about surfing again.

So Saturday came around (Y/n) and Cauã were two bubbly little things, the boy about the lessons and the mom about her first date night after a long time.

While (Y/n) was sketching and making small conversations with Miranda she noticed the kids and both teachers were coming back from the sea, she didn’t understand it though, it was only 3 pm, the class was supposed to end in 1 hour.

The explanation came shortly after.

“I’m sorry guys, but I have to go home earlier today. My husband got a call from work and I need to be there to take care of my daughter,” said Mrs. Mila. “We will of course make the next class tomorrow a bit longer. I’m sorry again.”

The parents made sure to say it was okay, which made the blonde woman more calm. Everybody said their goodbyes until only (Y/n), Cauã, and the teacher were standing in the warm sand.

“Mom! Did you see how I stood up!” bubbled the boy, smiling at her.

He really did, after a few tries, he learned how to pop up while in the water. He only lost his balance once! Harry also made sure to acknowledge that, giving Cauã a high five every attempt he got right.

“Of course I did, baby! I’m so proud of you,” (Y/n) told him, opening her bag to apply more sunscreen on his face. “Hey, mommy needs to finish this drawing, so we can stay a bit more.”

The boy smiles at her, running to the shallow part of the water, so (Y/n) decides to finish her drawing with the watercolors she brought before she could paint the first line, a shadow covering her from the warm sun.

"You two are staying?" Harry asked her, his surfboard not too far away from him. He looked intimidating standing in front of her. Why didn't he leave with the other?

(Y/n) looked up at him, eyes pinching in a questioning stare, also wondering why he was being nice. "Yeah, Cauã went to swing a little and the weather is nice.”

“Yeah, it’s really hot, so the water is really cold though,” said Harry sitting down next to her,

What was he doing?

She decided to be polite and answer him, not wanting to create an awkward silence. “ “It’s also good for art making,” she mumbled. “The beach makes me want to paint again.”

"Again? Don't you, like, do that for a living?” he asked.

Now that they were closer she noticed a small mole he had on his chin and the dimples that would appear on his cheek every time he said something.

Her hands started playing with her dress. Even though he wasn't being a jerk today it was weird having a whole conversation with him.

"Yes, I have a little art studio, but sometimes it's hard to actually draw something for myself when I have students wanting to learn different techniques all the time,” she said. "But tell me, Mr. Styles, do you also have these types of conversations with the other parents?" She was looking at him with a teasing smile on her face.

“I actually do not, Miss (Y/L/N),” answered Harry in the same teasing tone. “But I’m sorry for acting like an idiot last week. When I saw you were late I thought you were one of those parents who didn't really care about their child, but obviously it's not the case.”

“I get it. I also have a lot of parents treating my art classes as a daycare. Last week a dad picked their child up 2 hours after the class was over. The poor thing was so sad.”

“That’s the exact reason why me and Mila decided to make the parents’ presence mandatory. We have a lot of bad experiences with it.”

(Y/n)’s alarm went off, indicating it was time to go. Jesse was probably at her house waiting for her already. “I have to go now, Mr. Styles, but I hope you have a good evening,” she says, bowing her head.

Harry matched the energy by bowing his head as well, saying sarcastically, “It sure was a delight, my lady.”

The woman just laughed, calling Cauã and going home.

Maybe Harry wasn’t that bad.

“Jesse, I look ridiculous,” says (Y/n), looking back at her sister through the mirror. “I like dresses, but not ones that are this tight.”

She was already regretting agreeing to this night out, she didn’t even feel like herself in this piece of clothing! When (Y/n) was younger, she didn’t have the chance to attend parties, and when she reached the legal age to drink she had a 2-year-old baby to take care of.

“Babe, you look stunning. This dress is making your butt pop out!” Jesse tried to boost her confidence, standing behind her. “But we can try finding another thing if you want.”

(Y/n) really thought about it, but she had nothing else to wear. Her usual clothes were comfy ones. Summer dresses and overalls that people wore to go to the market or play dates, but (Y/n) wanted to look sexy.

Once you became a mother it was like who you are was erased, your whole persona would be based on having a child and being a mom. She wanted to feel like herself again. After her most recent break-up, feeling confident was hard, but she was determined to bring herself up again.

“No, this one looks fine. I just have to get used to it,” she explained, bending down to put on her high heels that weren’t even that high, but baby steps were key.

“Auntie, let’s go. The video rental shop is gonna close.” Cauã rushed into the room.

“Video rental shop?” (Y/n) laughs, directing her sarcastic question to Jesse. “You sure are a millennial. You know we have a Netflix account, right?”

“Oh shut up. I’m trying to give him some culture,” Jesse defended herself, wrapping her arms around Cauã. “You remember how dad would always take us to rent movies? It was the highlight of our weekend.”

(Y/n) smiled, thinking of the sweet memories of her dad. He was a great man. That’s why she named Cauã after him.

“It really was. Cauã sure is impatient to go, right baby? What movie are you picking?” (Y/n) asked. She was ready to go.

“Maybe Moana or The Lion King.”

“Good, baby! Now go pick your bag to bring to Jesse’s, alright?”

The boy went to his room, leaving the sisters alone in the yellow room.

“Are you ready? You’re taking an uber?” asked Jesse, applying another round of red lipstick on (Y/n).

“Yes, I don’t plan on getting drunk or anything, but it’s safer.”

After Cauã was back with his bag, (Y/n) called the car. When it arrived she said goodbye to her family, kissing them on the cheek and hoping they had a good night. She got into the car, telling him the location of the pub and in a few minutes, she was there.

(Y/n) was feeling anxious, but she was gonna have a good time, she would make sure of it. She was hot and beautiful. She was gonna be fine.

(Y/n) wasn’t fine at all.

30 minutes had passed and the only person who she had made conversation with was the bartender in front of her. The chat wasn't even pleasing, he was trying to make jokes and flirting with her.

The pub was playing country music because somebody was celebrating their birthday on the second floor and that was the kind of song they requested, so the dance floor was dead.

“Can you make another one of these, please?” asked the woman to the barman, indicating the watermelon cocktail. If the night wasn’t interesting she might as well drink before she went home.

(Y/n) was feeling very lonely at the place, a lot of couples were sharing fish and fries, friend groups were getting together, like the one on her side, it seems like they didn't see each other for a long time.

“Of course I can, doll," replied the bartender, the name on his tag was written in the ugliest handwriting she had ever seen, but she guessed it said ‘Tomas’. “It will be done in a second, just let me go to the kitchen, the watermelon slices are over.”

The man was probably not that good at his job if he didn’t plan ahead the right amount of fruit for each drink, he also left the bar without anyone supervising it. Maybe he wanted to be fired.

“Excuse me, did you see where the bartender went?” asked a voice behind (Y/n), she slowly turned around.

“- I saw him lea- Miss (Y/L/N)!" said Harry, smiling at her, an empty glass in his hand, it was weird to see him wearing a shirt instead of the usual surf suit. “ Hi! what are you doing here.”

“Um, hi!” She greeted him back, pointing at her empty glass. “Waiting for my drink, he said he was gonna go to the kitchen to get more watermelon.”

“Oh, you took the watermelon cocktail? The one with gin?”

“No, the vodka one actually.”

“Even better! Let me wait here with you, I also want a watermelon drink anyway” Harry looked around, searching for an empty stool that he quickly found on the end of the bar a few meters away. “I’ll be right back!”

(Y/n) just murmured in agreement, was he always that open with acquaintances he met at random pubs?

He smiled in her direction, bringing the tool to her side, but noticed the space between her and the group was too small. “Hey, can you go a bit to the side so I can talk to my friend here? Thanks!” he said, not even waiting for a response, putting the stool on the girl’s side and practically shoving the group to move to the right.

(Y/n) noticed the bad look the other people were giving him, but she just decided to ignore them the same way Harry did. sitting close to her, their knees almost touching

“Friends hum?” she questioned. “Friends don’t call each other by their last name.”

She knew she didn't really have to be so formal since they were at a pub but she wanted to tease him a little.

“I’m sorry about that, some parents don’t take my job seriously, that’s why I asked them to be formal and stuff,” laughed Harry. “It struck my ego too.”

“But we can call each other by our first name if that’s ok with you?” Continued him, tapping his fingers on the counter,

“Yes, we can, but only because we aren’t at the beach.” joked her. “I would never want to be in the way to hurt your ego.”

“Well, sweetheart, you are the one who calls me Mr.Styles the most, the other parents slip a ‘Harry’ here and there, so you would be the last one to wound my poor self-esteem.”

“ Well, Harry it doesn’t seem like you have a bad self esteem, you’re just a bit of a narcissist."

“You are not wrong about that," he laughed, nodding slightly while his other finger was playing with the glass. “Are you from California?”

“Yeah, born and raised.” Answered her. “ I’m from Sacramento actually, but when my sister Jesse moved here I decided to do it too, she helps me take care of Cauã.”

“So I must thank her that I got to meet you here today.”

(Y/n) laughed, feeling her cheeks get warm “Yeah, I guess so. But what about you? You sound very much British.”

“That’s because I am an angel,” he snickered.

Angel, that made the inside of her thighs contract, the word sounded wonderful coming from his lips.

“I moved here for University, I got into UCLA, graduated 7 years ago”

Seven years! That would make him 28/29 years old, she thought he would be around her age or younger. “What did you graduate in?”

After he could respond, the barman came back, the smile quickly falling from his face as soon as he saw Harry there. (Y/n) couldn’t care but compared the two men together, Tomas was so not beautiful. She had to admit, Harry was pretty and very attractive per say.

“You got lucky, huh, Mrs.,” he said, looking between you and Harry. “There were only some slices left, just enough for your drink.”

“OH good! And it’s Mis-”

“Thank you, Tomas, me and (Y/n) will share it, make sure to put a bit more sugar," said Hary before she could speak, putting his arms around her, (Y/n) went still, giving him a side-eye.

“Actually Tomas, don’t put sugar, just squeeze a bit of lemon in it, I like my drink sour.” She never agreed to share a drink with Harry!

“Ouch, didn’t know you had problems sharing.” A dramatic expression on his face.

(Y/n) took his arms off her shoulder once Tomas turned their back to them “I don’t, but it is indeed my drink, he went to the kitchen for me.”

When the man finished the drink he made sure to put it right in front of (Y/n), leaving quickly after being called on the other side of the bar by a small group of people.

“I’m sorry for putting my arms around you like that, I know Tomas, he is a jerk.” Apologized Harry, sincerity on his face. “He always hits on people, and not charmingly like me.”

“That’s what you’ve been doing all this time, hitting on me ‘charmingly’?” laughed (Y/n), taking a sip of her drink and offering it to Harry, who accepted it.

“Of course not! I’m talking to you as a friend, a very sweet one,” he said after he finished the drink, getting closer to her face “It’s a shame you don’t enjoy sweetness though.”

(Y/n) grinned, taking the glass from his hand and bringing it to her lips. “It is a pity, yeah.”

Harry’s eyes darkened, his hand suddenly went to her face, really close to her mouth. “You left a bit of the drink spill out love, gotta be careful.”

“You’re getting very bold, Harry,” whispers (Y/n).

She told herself over and over that she would not be hooking up with anyone, that tonight was only a chance for her to let go and try to be herself again, but then Harry happened, her son’s teacher.

Well, that little detail didn’t matter right now, maybe because of the drinks she had, the only thing she was sure of was that she wanted Harry.

Just for tonight, she thought to herself while creating the courage to ask him the question, just for tonight she could let it go, just for tonight, she could have the pretty and sweet man.

“Harry, do you wanna go to my house?” stuttered (Y/n), embarrassment filling her body as Harry’s brows were raised in surprise that was quickly replaced by a boyish smile.

“To your house, angel? For what?” he asked him mischievously, putting a hand on her knee.

“You know what Harry.” Damn, she was already regretting this.

“Yeah, I know," he said standing up from the stool, helping her out in the process. “Got everything?”

Was that a yes? “Uhum, I only brought this purse," he hummed in response, putting a hand on her waist guiding her to the payment place.

“Harry, did you agree to that? You weren’t very clear.”

She heard him laughing over her shoulder “Of course I agreed, how can I not when you are here, looking so cute in this dress.” His voice was getting deeper and lower. “And the best part is that I’m the one taking it off, right?”

(Y/n) ignored his last sentence. “You know this is only a hook-up, right?”

“I know, love, don’t stress over that," replied him with a smile.” “But I still enjoy being pampered.”

After a moment of quietness between them, Harry said, “I’m glad I’m going to yours, Kiara is at home and I-”

(Y/n)’s eyes went wide and she stopped walking

Wait, wait, wait.

Kiara? Who was Kiara? A fiance? a child?

“Harry please, for the love of God tell me Kiara isn’t your girlfriend," said (Y/n) angrily.

“What?! Of course not, She’s my dog!” he explained, looking hurt that she would think such a thing of him. “I just don’t want her looking at me differently. We would have to do the walk of shame and Kiara would be there, laying on her purple bed judging us.”

“You scared me, you idiot,” answered (Y/n), relieved.

“Would never do that love," he said sweetly, petting her back. “Now go wait outside while I pay, my car is the black range rover.”

“No, it’s ok, I can pay.” She was about to take her credit card off when Harry’s hand met hers.

“I might be an idiot but I am still a gentleman,” Smiled him. “Please, let me do it, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

(Y/n) shrugged. “When I pay for the lessons at the end of this month, I will make sure to put in an extra 40 dollars.” And then she left, looking for Harry’s car, a smile on her face.

The decision to go out today was a good fucking one.

You sipped at your coffee, partially grateful to at least be braless in your own kitchen again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means having Harry here was fun.”

“We had fun before Harry was here.”

“Sometimes,” Maeve said.

CeCe echoed her sister’s sentiment. “Yeah, sometimes.”

This plucked at something in you: mom-guilt, single-parent paranoia. “What about when we went to that beach in Malibu? We brought those floaties and made sand castles? That was fun!”

“Can you imagine if Harry was there for that?” Maeve turned to CeCe. “He would have helped us build a giant castle with, like, moats and towers.”

CeCe nodded and milk dribbled down her chin, you tried to not take it as an insult.

“We’ll be okay without Harry, you guys. We were fine before he came.”

“But I like Harry!” CeCe frowned.

“I know,” you nodded.

“Me too, for the record.”

“I know, Maeve.”

The front door pushed open, Jeff offered a timid smile when both girls turned to see him. “Hi Uncle Jeff,” CeCe said robotically.

“Hi,” he said, his eyes glancing in your direction as he came towards the kitchen. “How are we doing?”

He was taking the temperature, you were sure of it. A glimmer of hope in his eyes told you that he came here half expecting that you’d changed your mind and everything would be back to normal--well, the version of normal that Harry’d been a part of.

Maeve let out a sigh and swiveled on her stool. “Terrible, thanks for asking.”

You ignored her remark. “We’re good, Jeff, how are you?”

“Fine,” he nodded, lifted his hand to hold up a brown paper bag. “I brought donuts.”

“Donuts?” CeCe smiled at that, reaching out when he handed her the bag.

“Is that really why you came?” You eyed him suspiciously when he took a seat on the other side of CeCe. She was elbow deep in the bag now, a greedy smile on her face when she pulled one out.

“Did you come because you feel bad for us that Harry moved out? Or should I be mad at you since he’s living at your house now?”

“Mad at me?” Jeff pointed at his own chest, Maeve nodded in response and you simply sighed as you moved to pour Jeff a cup of coffee. “I didn’t do anything! She’s the one who made him leave.”

Both Maeve and CeCe’s heads snapped in your direction, Jeff’s eyes went wide when he realized he said too much.

“You made him leave?” Maeve asked, her voice angry when she dropped the chunk of donut she’d taken from her sister. “You said he was just busy!”

“Maeve, you don’t understand,” you said quickly, defensiveness rising in your chest when Jeff bit his lip in regret.

“I do too! I do understand! You made Harry leave and no one wanted that!”

“I wanted that!” You told her, anger laced your words and CeCe shrunk at your volume. “My feelings count too, okay? I put you two first all the time and I do what’s right for you but sometimes mommy needs to put her own feelings first.”

You took a deep breath, tried to settle your pulse when she stared at you with narrowed eyes.

She hopped off her stool, pushed her plate forward to show she was done with breakfast, and more importantly, done with you. “I hate you,” she said quickly, “I wish I could live with dad.”

You rolled your eyes and she took off up the stairs before you could reply. CeCe nibbled on her donut still, eyes glancing between you and Jeff as she waited for someone to break the silence.

“Sorry,” he said, two syllables stretched out in hesitation. “I didn’t--I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“You made Harry leave?” CeCe asked.

You looked at her, another wave of guilt when you wished you could lie. “I did, but I needed space, honey. We have a lot going on right now after losing grandpa and moving here and--I just figured it would be best for us to all go back to normal.”

She nodded, though she likely didn’t understand your words entirely.

Innocently, she told you: “I felt normal with Harry here.”

Jeff reached over and ruffled her hair. “It’ll be okay.”

You nodded, you hoped it would.

**

Three days. A whole 72-hours since Maeve had spoken to you aside from using CeCe as her go-between. She sat at the dinner table and when you asked her how things were going with Hayley, CeCe informed you--after Maeve mumbled--that this week had been good. Hayley bought her chocolate milk at lunch.

She sent you a text one night, too, simply informing you that she had to stay late after school to work on a project.

Maybe it was wrong to let it go on like that for a few days. Immature, bad parenting, whatever it was that a book or a blog would call it. But you felt drained and uncertain and shit out of luck.

On top of that, Tristan was texting you every five minutes, updates on numbers and percentages and sales across the country. The body wash was booming--hitting shelves from Seattle to SoHo--and while all of that was good, the rest of your life felt like an utter failure.

You sat in bed one night, Zoey on FaceTime as she filed her nails.

“I just don’t know if I’m supposed to force her to talk to me or if I’m supposed to give her space,” you shrugged.

“She’s stubborn,” Zoey said. “Probably best to let her come to you.”

“But how long am I supposed to wait?”

“She’ll get over it, Y/N--she’ll get distracted next week about some dumb middle school thing and you’ll be off the hook.”

“Should I bribe her? Let her have another sleepover with all those girls?”

She laughed, looked up at you with pitiful eyes. “Something tells me that it would be even more stressful than the first time without Harry there.”

You rolled your eyes at her statement, bothered both by the truth in what she said and the fact that she even went there to begin with.

“You know I’m right.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Okay. How’s CeCe?”

“She’s good,” you sighed. “She misses Harry too, though.”

“I thought we weren’t talking about him?”

“We’re talking about CeCe!”

Zoey put the nail file down. “Have you heard from him?”

“No,” you said simply. “I don’t think I will.”

“You don’t think you will?” She made a face at you.

“I don’t know--I mean, he hasn’t texted me or called me. I guess now we have no reason to talk, right?”

“He’s not just going to leave like that, I’m sure he’ll reach out at some point to see the girls or something.”

“Right.”

Quiet for a second, she filed away at her pinky and then looked up again. “Do you want him to reach out for you? Not for the girls?”

You braided a tiny strand of hair in front of your face. “I don’t know what I want.”

“That feels...untrue.”

“Untrue?”

“I think you know what you want but you don’t like that you want it.”

“Didn’t we say we weren’t going to talk about him?”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing him up!”

“Well clearly I’m an idiot. Every action of mine over the last few months proves that I make terrible decisions.”

“Hey,” she said, more serious now. “You do not make terrible decisions.”

“It was just so...out of left field, unlike me, I don’t know.”

“The heart wants what it wants.”

“Okay,” you held back a laugh. “You sound like a tacky greeting card.”

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled unapologetically. “Maybe you should buy Harry one and leave it at his front door. Apologize for being stupid and not having a beautiful little baby with him.”

“Okay,” you laughed but rolled your eyes. “That ship has sailed, I am never having another baby.”

“Good, cause I need your help with mine, so--”

“They just grow up to be evil pre-teens, so watch out.”

“She’s not evil,” Zoey laughed, defending your daughter. “She’s mad at you, and she kind of has a point.”

“What point does my 11-year-old have? Please, enlighten me.”

She looked up at you but was silent, “do you really want me to say it?”

When you raised your eyebrows at her, she laughed a little.

“You basically ruined the one good thing that you guys had this year. Ruined might be strong--I take it back. You ran away from the one good thing you three had this year.”

Her words felt eerily similar to Shelli’s: don’t let your past ruin your future. It echoed off the granite the night she said that and followed you up the stairs. It circled the drain of your shower the next morning and now it still haunted you almost a week later.

Harry’s words seemed to stick, too: do you not want to get hurt?

Maybe they all had a point. Maybe the people who knew you almost your entire life (Shelli, Jeff, Zoey) were aware of something you weren’t. Maybe they saw the look in your eyes when he tossed CeCe across the pool and she swam back to him like he was the one who’d raised her since birth.

Or maybe they were all stuck in the pipe dream with you. Maybe they just wanted someone who was kind and reliable and caring to be around, for you and for the girls.

But it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought, because on the fourth day when Maeve got dropped off after a playdate, she burst through the door with a smile on her face and for a second, she forgot she was mad.

“Mom, you know that boy Braden who’s in my reading class? He texted me when I was at Chloe’s and he said that he liked my hair today.”

She came up to the counter and slung her backpack onto the floor, eyes glued to her screen as she thumbed out a reply to someone.

“He did?”

“He did!” She smiled up at you. “Chloe thinks he likes me, but I don’t know. Maybe I’ll try to sit with him at lunch this week.”

You nodded, caught off guard by how natural it felt for her to be going on and on about the happenings of her day. When she met your gaze again, though, she remembered.

“Oh. Nevermind, forget everything I just said cause I’m still mad at you.”

“Maeve, we need to talk. You can’t just ignore me and pretend I don’t exist.”

“It’s been going pretty well for the last few days,” she shrugged, picking up her phone again.

“Do you think I don’t miss him too?”

She paused at that, looked up at you and blinked a few times. “Do you actually?”

You let out a breath, wondered if being honest with her was the best course of action. “Of course I do, but, it’s just not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“There’s been a lot of change this last year, sweetie, don’t you think? First we moved out of our old house and daddy and I got divorced, and then grandpa passed away and--”

“And when Harry moved in things felt normal for the first time since all of that.”

“I know, honey, but it wasn’t really normal. He’s not your dad and, y’know, he wasn’t going to stay here forever. We knew that going in.”

“I think he would have stayed forever.”

“Maeve--”

“What?! He liked us, mom! And he like-liked you.”

“Alright,” you waved her off.

“You like-liked him, too.”

“Okay, I did, Maeve. I do--I still do. But that doesn’t mean that he can just live here and we can act like we’re a family.”

You were slowly approaching territory that wasn’t appropriate to discuss with her. You came around the island before she could reply and pulled her close to you, smushed her face into your chest and kissed her on the head a thousand times.

“You are my family. My pain in the butt, sassy little family.”

She laughed but shoved you away, smoothed her hair out and then CeCe came running around the corner from the living room.

“Did I hear sassy?!”

“Yes, and I was talking about you, CeCelia Rose.”

She climbed up onto the stool beside her sister and smiled a toothy smile. “I figured you were.”

“Mom’s being weird, she’s hugging me and being affectionate.”

“Mommy--can we have Harry over for dinner?”

Whatever happiness you’d felt for a moment came shattering back down to the floor beneath your feet. “CeCe, I don’t know if that’s a good idea--”

Maeve made a face at you, wide eyes and a skeptical look when you put both hands on the counter. You changed your tune, “Maybe I could text him and see if he wants to take you guys out for pizza one night?”

Maeve smiled at you then, “I love pizza.”

**

You sent the text the next morning, sat behind your desk with blue-light glasses pushed up on your nose. Tristan was running late, said he’d grab lunch before your meeting and then texted you to report the traffic on Melrose was atrocious.

You’d thought about it long and hard, did you use an emoji? Did you ask? Did you just tell him that they missed him? Would he even want to see them or at this point was he already frequenting clubs and asking a higher power why he ever lived under the same roof with two kids?

A ding from your phone pulled you out of your anxiety spiral and had you reaching for the phone with a quick pulse.

Y/N L/N (12:43pm): The girls have been asking about you a lot. Don’t know if you’re up for it, but if you’d want to see them for pizza I think that would be okay.

Harry Styles (12:45pm): I would love that, as long as you’re alright with it. One night this weekend?

He seemed fine. He didn’t seem mad, he didn’t seem annoyed or bothered. You typed out a reply and noticed the tiny gray letters that told you he’d already read it. You waited as he typed.

Y/N L/N (12:46pm): Friday?

Harry Styles (12:46pm): Perfect. I can pick them up at 6.

“Hi, okay, sorry, didn’t know what a cluster fuck it would be to get a sandwich.”

Tristan’s voice made you jump, a hand clutched to your heart when your phone clattered to the desk and you pushed away in your chair. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he eyed you sideways when he placed a paper bag on the conference table in the corner. He lifted out a wrapped sandwich and then wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Are you sexting over there?”

“No, I’m not sexting.” You stood and came over to join him. “I was talking to Harry.”

“And that’s supposed to make me think you weren’t sexting?”

You faked a laugh and sat down. “He’s going to take the girls for pizza.”

“Oh, good, so you’re gonna work it out with him?”

You tugged at the wax paper that separated you from your lunch. “No--there’s nothing to work out. He’s just taking them out to pizza.”

He could tell you didn’t want to talk about it when he bit into his own sandwich. “Is Maeve talking to you again?”

“I think so--it’s on and off but she’s seeming less bothered by me.”

“That’s great.”

“The pizza thing is helping, to be honest.”

“So you’re bribing her?”

“No, I’m encouraging my children to have a relationship with someone who cares about them.”

He nodded thoughtfully at that, like he was taking it all in and considering your point of view.

“Heard from Luke lately?”

You let out a quick laugh. “Well, Maeve used her new cell phone to text him that she wanted to live with him after she got mad at me for making Harry move out. So he called me, asked what that was about. Luckily having his daughter live with him would cramp his style.”

“Did you tell him Harry moved out?”

“Yeah--he sounded quite pleased with that.”

“Of course he did,” Tristan rolled his eyes.

“Right, so, aside from that, just a text about CeCe’s ballet recital at the end of the month to make sure it’s in his calendar.”

“Oh yeah, when is that?” He pulled out his phone and scrolled three weeks out.

“June 28th. 3pm, it’s at this cute little theatre in Sherman Oaks. I’ll send you the address.”

“Is Harry going to be there?”

“No--I mean, I don’t think so. Luke is supposed to come so I hope not.”

“If they punch each other again I’m totally going live on instagram to document it,” he laughed.

“No you’re not,” you pointed a finger at him. “If you do, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me. You love me too much.”

“True, but if you’re stupid enough to do that, you deserve to get fired.”

He forced a sugary sweet smile at you, “Harry can totally take Luke. He’s so in shape and muscular.”

“Hopefully no one has to take anyone. My children have endured enough this year.”

“Is that what all of this is about? Is that why you broke up with him?”

“I didn’t break up with him,” you corrected. “Can’t break up if you were never dating.”

“Okay, yes, and this also isn’t middle school.”

“Whatever.”

“Answer my question!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you break up with him because you think your children have been through too much?”

You ignored his use of the same phrase. “I know my children have been through too much.”

“And you are choosing to ignore the fact that the four of you were incredibly happy playing house together?”

You set your sandwich down in frustration. “Why is everyone up my ass about this? Am I not allowed to make a decision for my own family?”

“You are,” he backed off a bit, dropping your gaze for a moment. “But--I don’t know, I just don’t think you should trade happiness for what you think stability looks like.”

Maybe it was the drama of the last week, maybe it was just the afternoon slump. “You lost me.”

“Okay, well, I’m not a therapist, but I did minor in psychology, and it seems like you fell for Harry and think that’s stupid because of your age, or whatever, and you basically self-sabotaged the whole thing because you were afraid it wouldn’t work out--so you know, you just ruined it before someone or something else could.”

You stared at him, blinked twice and swallowed the bite you’d been chewing.

“But the kicker is that no one knows it wouldn’t work--I mean, weirder shit has happened.”

“Am I....that transparent? How did you--”

“So I’m right?”

“I don’t know--you’re the one who said you minored in psychology!”

He clapped his hands together. “You’re in love with Harry Styles, oh my god.”

“Oh my god.”

“Oh my god!” he stood up. “Are you gonna call him, text him? You need to tell him!”

You shook your head, bursting his bubble with a simple gesture. “I can’t.”

“You can’t? I just dissected your self-sabotaging behavior for you and now you can’t?”

“I don’t know, Tristan, not right now. I can’t just text him and say all of that. Maybe--I don’t know--maybe I’ll talk to him when he brings the girls home or something, I don’t see us having a whole lot of alone time now.”

He patted you on the arm, a silent encouragement when he knew your world was caving in and knew you had no clue how to stop it.

Luckily, Harry pulled into the driveway Friday night and the girls were so excited they bolted out the front door and waited impatiently when you took CeCe’s booster seat out of your car.

He met you in the middle of the gravel, extended a hand to take it from you.

“Thanks,” he said, an awkward smile like suddenly he didn’t even know how to talk to you. “I’ll text you? Have them home by eight?”

You nodded. “Yes, yeah. Thanks.”

CeCe tugged at his arm. “Let’s go! What are we waiting for?”

He looked down at her through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “We have to put this in, remember? It’s the CeCe seat!”

“Well let’s do it, then! We have to get pizza and also mom said she wouldn't be mad if we had ice cream by the way!” She scurried off to the car but smiled over her shoulder. “Just so you know!”

“I did?”

“You did!” Maeve smiled from the backseat. “I remember.”

Harry looked over to you again, a slight smile when CeCe waited impatiently near the open door to his car. “Maybe just a scoop or two.”

You waved them off, wished that Tristan’s words hadn’t been sewn into your heart the moment they left his mouth. “Okay, alright, just have fun and be safe.”

“Always do, always are,” he nodded.

CeCe watched as he clipped the booster into place. Maeve helped her buckle up and then he climbed back into the driver’s seat. “See you later?”

“I’ll be here.”

They drove off, left you alone in an empty house that felt quiet and sad. You poured a glass of Pinot Grigio and sat by the pool, ate a Lean Cuisine on the couch and checked the time over and over. It crept closer to 8pm and the second glass of wine had you almost convinced that if you kissed Harry he’d kiss you back.

When the girls came tumbling into the house right on time, Harry stood by the door with his hands in his pockets, awkward and hesitant.

CeCe raced Maeve to the backyard, they pushed through the open doors and Maeve did a cartwheel that CeCe rated a solid seven out of ten.

You looked at them in awe, arms crossed over your chest. “What did you do to get Maeve in this good of a mood?”

He smiled sheepishly, looked at them and shook his head. “Just told her that I won’t disappear. She made it Sound like it’s been a rough week.”

You looked away at that, reluctant to admit that everyone’s mood plummeted after he moved out. Instead of replying, you moved towards the kitchen, eager to ease the tension. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

He stood in place, as if his shoes were glued to the hardwood floor or like his limbs were anchored to the earth beneath him. “I, uh, should probably just get going.”

You stopped, turned to see him before you leaned against the counter. “Oh, okay. I mean, I’m inviting you--it doesn’t have to be weird.”

“Y/N, I just think we need space, right? I don’t want--”

“Mommy,” CeCe appeared in the doorway, cheeks flushed and ponytail disheveled. “Can Harry sleep over tonight?”

“CeCe, I told you that was a dumb question,” Maeve ran up behind her.

“--that to happen,” Harry looked back at you. He walked over to the girls and knelt down. “I’ve got to run, early start tomorrow for me, but, we’ll do this again soon, yeah?”

“Next week?” CeCe asked, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Next week sounds great.”

“Okay, love you!” She kissed his cheek and then took off to the swingset. Maeve hugged him as he stood up.

“Love you,” she said it quickly and darted away, like she thought you’d be mad if you heard her.

“Love you guys too,” he said, almost an afterthought when Maeve waved over her shoulder.

You stood there, rejected, and offered him a closed-lip smile. “I guess I’ll text you about next week, then.”

He slipped out the door and his car faded down the street. The girls climbed into your bed that night and Maeve stared up at the ceiling.

CeCe was the first to break the silence when you finished reading her a story.

“Mommy, are you sad like we are about Harry?”

Maeve looked over at you and waited for an answer.

“Sad that he doesn’t live here anymore?”

She nodded, pushed herself into a seated position and watched you with curious eyes.

“A little, yeah. But I think we’ll be okay.”

“It’s not that we’re not okay, mom, you don’t have to keep saying that.”

“Saying what?”

“That we’ll be okay.”

“Well, I know it’s hard to have another person leave, I know we’ve lost a lot this year.”

“I don’t feel like we’re losing Harry. He’s still in here,” CeCe pointed to her heart, smiled at Maeve when you pouted.

“You guys really love him, huh?”

CeCe nodded excitedly. “He’s so funny and nice and he’s good at reading stories.”

“And teaching me guitar, and helping me with homework, and driving me to my friends’ houses.”

You let out a sigh, unwilling to get into the same song and dance you’d been doing with them. You got it, they loved him. They wanted him around and they were sad that he was gone. Instead of trying to talk them out of it or remind them that you could do all of those things, too, you tucked them in and reminded them that you loved them.

But you knew that for them, that wasn’t enough.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: a little shorter but wanted to make sure you all got an update after waiting so patiently :) and just a friendly heads up that chapter 8 will likely be the final chapter!!! So grab your tissues now!

Maybe that was another parenting fail in the last year--giving Maeve a later bedtime. She had bargained with you long and hard. She wanted more time on her phone but you wouldn’t budge. When you had heard enough of the I’m practically a teenager, mom! you figured there probably wasn’t an easy way to tell her that in two years she’d look back at herself and laugh.

So you caved, which you were doing more of lately but only with the silly stuff: bedtime, playing outside, dessert before dinner on occasion and even a PG-13 movie at a friend’s house when Maeve really got snippy with you.

But your energy was draining. After all the shit you’d put up with, you figured that hearing a few swears or seeing a high school party wouldn’t kill your 11-year-old.

CeCe, on the other hand, might be the death of you.

She was more outspoken than her sister, if that was possible. She had lungs on her that carried her voice through the house, especially when she whined.

“I want to stay up late!”

“You can’t,” you told her firmly. “I’m sorry. You’ll thank me tomorrow when you wake up refreshed.”

She made a face at you in the bathroom mirror, she probably didn’t understand what you meant but you smiled back at her anyway.

“I don’t want to sleep.”

You didn’t reply, instead let out a sigh and ignored the way she pouted until she stomped her feet again. “I want to watch TV!”

She smacked a fist on the counter when you didn’t reply, your eyes went wide with shock. “Cecelia Rose,” you scolded. “You do not yell at mommy like that or bang your fist on the counter.”

Maeve was nowhere to be found, likely scrolling in a group chat with other pre-teens who sent too many emojis. You almost wished she’d pop her head in to intervene--sometimes she was good at talking CeCe off the ledge, even if just to distract her.

The next best thing, though, when Harry knocked on the door and peered through the crack. “Everything alright?”

“Just dandy,” you forced a smile.

“Mommy is making me sleep,” CeCe frowned up at him.

“She is?”

“She is,” she nodded. “And I’m not tired.”

“Well, mommy has good reasoning, you’ll be sleepy tomorrow if you don’t sleep now.”

She didn’t seem to care, she crossed her arms over her chest once you finished the braid at the base of her neck and clapped her on the shoulder. “I won’t be tired.”

“Do you want to read together?”

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, almost like she was waiting for the catch. When he smiled again, she let out a hefty sigh but headed for the door. “Fine.”

Harry smiled over his shoulder at you and followed behind her, trailing her down the hall until she took the left turn into her bedroom with a butterfly carpet. She walked over the bookshelf, picked out The Big Book of Bedtime Stories, and pulled the sheets back.

You were in the doorway, watching as she fluffed her own pillow and then looked up at Harry. “Are you coming?”

She patted the spot next to her, gesturing for him to get close enough for her to fall asleep on his shoulder. He hesitated, stole a glance in your direction and then did as she said. He adjusted the pillow behind his head and CeCe wriggled beside him until she was comfortable. When she was, she nestled right into him, looked up at you and then said: “are you coming?”

You paused, parted your lips to let her down gently, but then something in you tugged your torso towards his. He was surprised by this, too, shifted in the tiny bed to make room for you to crawl over and squish yourself between CeCe and the wall.

Harry, with a smirk on his lips, looked over at you when he opened the book to CeCe’s favorite story. “Comfortable?”

“Go ahead,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the silliness of the moment but somehow wishing it was routine.

You put a hand on her pajama pants, petting her mindlessly as you listened to Harry’s voice when he thumbed through the pages. You’d had moments like these with Luke, when Maeve was tiny and CeCe was barely a thought. It’d been a while since you laid in bed with another adult, your child between you as she let out sleepy sighs and fluttered her eyelashes against her cheek.

The lights were dim now, you watched as his fingers pulled each page and tried to forget the way they pulled moans from your mouth.

He stopped halfway through, looked over at you and smirked when her breathing got heavier, but he kept going. He’d learned: if you stop too soon, she’d bolt awake and tell you she’d never fallen asleep to begin with.

He carried on like that for a while, glancing over to see if her eyes were open, sometimes catching your gaze but looking away quickly. Timid, like he was just as unsure as you were.

He finished a story and started a new one, and for a moment you wondered if he kept reading just to not disturb the scene: the two of you with your daughter sandwiched between. If someone looked in on it from the outside, they’d think you were a family.

Eventually he cut himself off mid sentence, derailed the story of the princess and the pea to ask you: “should I keep going?”

“No,” you laughed a little. “She’s out. We’re fine.”

He shut the book and pulled away from her gently. You lifted her head a little and tugged your arm out from the sheets and he placed the book on the desk to the right of her bed. He stuck his hand out to help you climb over her quietly. She stirred, opened her eyes and looked up at the two of you.

“Love you mommy,” she said, you bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Love you too, sweetie.”

“Love you, Harry,” she said through a sigh, eyes already closing when you turned around to leave. His eyes locked on yours, caught off guard and unsure of how to reply, but he looked down at her, lips in a small smile.

“Love you too, CeCe.”

And just like that, your life turned to a personally targeted and especially cruel single-mom hell. It was already there, practically. He played outside with your kids? He drove Maeve to play dates and picked CeCe up from ballet? He cooked dinner and poured you wine and tucked deep inside your memory were images of his head between your legs and his fingers laced with yours.

And now he said he loved one of them? You made a beeline for your bedroom, shut the door and didn’t say goodnight because you knew it would only get worse from here.

You were right. It was torture. Daydream, fairytale level torture when he helped Maeve with her homework the next night and even more painful when CeCe fell asleep with her head in his lap after a movie.

Maybe the worst part, though, was when you sat beside him on the patio a few nights later. The sun had set and you had a glass of crisp rosé in your hand when he turned to you.

“Look what CeCe brought home the other day,” he moved his phone to show you the screen. A drawing of stick figures, red and green and blue under a yellow house. He pinched the screen to zoom in, the actual artwork was nowhere to be found.

“What is it?” You tilted your head to the side and let out a quiet laugh. Her drawing needed work, but the color choices were bright and vibrant, just like her.

“Well, it’s us I think.”

“Us?” You looked up at him for a moment, CeCe hit the tennis ball into the pool and Maeve let out a frustrated groan.

“That’s her, with the tutu obviously. That’s Maeve and you right there--I’m assuming, by the way. This is all interpretation.”

You let out a laugh but watched when he zoomed in on the other stick figure.

“And that’s me, I think,” he tilted his head sideways now, looked at it closer. "With the guitar." You reached out your hand, brought his phone closer when he let you have it.

“When did she give this to you?”

“Monday--no, Tuesday, I think.”

“What did she say?”

He shrugged when you looked up. Maeve had gotten the leaf skimmer and CeCe clapped when the tennis ball was back on dry land.

“She said she drew ‘home.’”

“Home?”

He nodded, looked back over at you with raised eyebrows, a sense of nonchalance when he held his palm out to retrieve his phone. “Cute, right?”

It was cute, obviously. It was sweet and endearing and then you asked: “where’s the actual drawing?”

“On my nightstand.” He watched as CeCe tugged a hoola hoop from a bucket of toys. “Might frame it and show her, she’d be so excited.”

“She would be,” you nodded. “She’d love that.”

He left it alone, showed Maeve how to swing the bat better before you eventually decided it was too dark to sit outside. They sat at the island and ate ice cream, cherries and sprinkles and Harry even doused his in chocolate sauce.

Your heart ached for the family that CeCe drew: one with less complexity and one where age differences didn’t mean a thing. One where there was no such thing as death or divorce. Just four stick figures beneath a triangular roof with grass scribbled around the edges of paper.

You wished, desperately, that the four of you could be the stick figure family with no worries and no problems. You wished time could freeze and Harry’s house wouldn’t be ready in another 10 days. In a way you wished that Luke didn’t exist, you wished that your life was as simple as it looked on 8 x 11 inch paper with scribbled marker.

**

Zoey stood in your bedroom, lips pushed out in thought when you held up a different necklace. “This one is chunkier which I can’t tell if I like.”

She thought on it for a second, already dressed and ready to go like the timely human she was.

“I like the first one,” she nodded. “It’s more I’m the boss than that one.”

You laughed at her reasoning, held it up to your neck when CeCe burst through the doors with a scowl on her face. “Mommy, Maeve said I’m being stupid and annoying.”

You frowned at her but clasped the necklace around your neck, “that’s not very nice of her. Why’d she say that?”

“Because I was asking her to push me on the swing but she was too busy texting someone.”

You let out a sigh and made a face at Zoey in the mirror. Buying Maeve a cell phone was something you’d thought long and hard about. She begged and begged for one at her birthday, but something felt wrong about handing over a thousand dollar piece of technology to someone who was barely old enough to watch TV unsupervised.

Harry and Luke’s punching incident is what did you in, though. What if Maeve was at a friend’s house and something like that happened? You needed her to be able to contact you in case she felt unsafe or uncomfortable.

You also figured it would be a good way to distract her from what was really going on under your roof: mom fell for the guy who stayed in our guest suite and now it’s a hot mess.

“You’re not stupid or annoying,” Zoey reassured her. “Maeve just thinks she’s too cool for everyone now that she has a phone.”

CeCe let out a dramatic sigh. “You can say that again.”

A knock on the door, she turned around to see Harry. “Maeve said I’m stupid and annoying.”

Harry frowned and knelt in front of her. “That’s not true.”

“Oh I know,” she shrugged. “I just think that’s stupid and annoying of her to say that.”

You bit back a laugh when he looked up at you, shocked by her attitude and her wit before she ran off to her bedroom down the hall.

Harry stood back up and greeted Zoey. “Hi--how’re Shawn and Benny?”

“They’re great, and they’re on their own tonight which I am so grateful for.” She’d been dying for another night out of the house, she talked for weeks about what she wanted to wear and what she was going to drink. “You two should meet, you and Shawn. He’s not a musician by any means but he’s a killer steering wheel drummer when we have the classic rock hits on.”

Harry laughed, looked over to you quickly before nodding in Zoey’s direction. “I’d love that, maybe we could all have dinner.”

You nodded at the suggestion, hooked an earring into place before Harry remembered why he came in.

“Speaking of dinner, I have a meeting with my stylist but I’ll be there tonight, obviously. Probably around 7:15 though, is that alright?”

“Totally fine,” you nodded. He told you a few days earlier that you’d have to drive separately, quelling your anxiety about showing up together and going home together. Your living situation was no one’s business, but having Harry at the launch party to begin with was sure to stir up enough chatter, even if it was mostly from Tristan or Jeff.

You’d been trying to hide your anxiety. This was your biggest launch to date, arguably a step outside your comfort zone and feeling so uncertain about things at home left you feeling more nervous to have your employees and your friends in the same spot. The girls were headed to Shelli’s, a movie night and arts and crafts, she promised.

But it was setting in now, questions and thoughts and worries were bouncing around in your head like a pinball machine.

Would Maeve and CeCe behave for Shelli? Would they get along with each other? Would the launch party go well? Would Tristan bring a date? Would people like the body wash? Would Harry sit next to you at dinner? Would things ever feel normal between the two of you again or would he move out and fade out of your life like he’d never even entered it at all?

Zoey had stepped out into the hallway, phone pressed to her ear as Shawn asked a question about formula.

“You alright?”

Harry was still in the doorway, suit pants on and a white button down as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just nervous.”

“Hey,” he took a step towards you. “It’s going to be great. You’re going to be great.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and then withdrew it. “You are great.”

You smiled, appreciative of his kindness but already overthinking the way he pulled his hand away, like your skin was too hot to touch or like your bodies coming into contact was suddenly forbidden.

“I just want the body wash to do well and I want the dinner to go smoothly. Tristan always goes overboard with these events and I just hope that the food is good, I mean, I’ve never eaten here before--”

He laughed, “hey, it’s going to be fine. I might be a bit late but I’ll get there and Jeff and I can do something stupid to make you laugh and forget about the stress of it all. Everyone wins.”

You nodded, reassured by his words but also caught off guard by how easy it was to admit: “I’m really glad you’re coming.”

“Me too,” he nodded. “Kind of feels like we haven’t seen each other much lately.”

You lifted your eyebrows at that, a week since Luke’s surprise visit and a week since Harry had so much as looked your way for more than ten seconds. You hadn’t told him to stop, you never said you didn’t want to keep sleeping with him or anything of the sort, but he took your words on the patio to mean that, apparently.

How were you supposed to backtrack? How were you supposed to have a conversation with him about it when there’d never been one in the first place?

If you hadn’t defined it originally, how were you supposed to quantify the change that had occurred as the bruise on his skin faded to a pale yellow?

“Okay,” Zoey laughed, a shake of her head when she ended the call and came back into the master suite. “How hard is it to find the bottle brush in the drawer where it’s literally been for the entirety of Benny’s short life?” She cut herself off when she looked up from her phone to see how close Harry stood to you.

He backed up. “Good luck, you’re going to kill it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nodded. “Yes, right. Thanks.”

He turned on his heel and offered a smile to Zoey, whose eyes immediately flew to yours once he was descending the stairs. You briefed her over lunch shortly after Luke had shown up on your doorstep, but Zoey was decidedly team Harry and had a hard time even admitting that he shouldn't have gotten involved.

Her eyes were wide, lips set in a frown as if she’d just witnessed the most adorable thing. “He likes you so much.”

“No, Zoey, stop.”

“I leave the room for one second and you're having a heart to heart?”

“We weren't having a heart to heart,” you rolled your eyes. “He was just offering some encouragement.”

Partially true. His words were encouraging and that seemed to be the point of him coming up here. But you couldn’t admit to Zoey that part of your anxiety about the night was related to him. It felt stupid to admit that pulling back made you miss him, made you feel like something was missing.

Those feelings left your heart and your head a mess, unsure about what you needed and wanted and even more confused about what was right for everyone.

You turned back to the mirror to put your other earring in place. Zoey didn’t say more, she didn’t need to. She smiled at your reflection and you both knew that your words didn’t even begin to capture the complexity of it all. But you had a launch party to get to.

Your champagne flute was filled when you walked in, which was a great step towards quelling the nerves. Tristan was already working the crowd with grace and poise, smile plastered on his face when he bragged about all of the hard work your team had put in on this.

Zoey was excited to pump and dump in the bathroom, your employees were already plucking hors d'oeuvres from silver platters, and you just tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest of wishing your dad was here. He’d be proud, no doubt, he’d be excited for you and he’d be cracking jokes with Irv in the corner as Jeff tried to keep them under control.

The emptiness that he left in your life was something you’d live with forever, you were sure of this until suddenly there was a man in your house with a dimpled smile and patience for your children that you never saw coming.

Another look around the room, balloons in the corner, high heels and lipstick on the women that made your team what it was. A moment of excitement, of celebration, and yet your heartbeat picked up when you realized that you were here, alone.

You plucked your phone out to check the time, 7:24pm. He’d said 7:15--he clasped his hands on your shoulders like he meant it and you wondered where he was. Tristan pulled you over to another friendly face before you could sink too far down that rabbit hole.

Zoey had Shawn, Shelli had Irv, Jeff always had someone. Even Tristan had Tinder dates for the nights that he got lonely. You had the girls, of course, you had a life that you loved and a job you were proud of. But what did that matter if you didn’t have someone to share it with, to whisper to in the mornings when sun streamed through the windows and you were woken up too early by daughters that begged for adventures?

You’d grown used to feeling that way. Your marriage was over long before the papers were signed, but your father’s sudden decline left you reeling and unsure which way was up.

You’d never admit it aloud, but Harry showing up brought you back down to earth and kept you tethered to a life that felt manageable and doable and somehow possible.

Another glance at the time, 7:32pm. Tristan asked when you wanted to make a toast and thank everyone for coming to celebrate, you made an excuse and tried to buy yourself time like his absence was currency.

You wanted him here, you wanted his arm around your shoulders and you wanted to introduce him to your team--take a bite of his dinner and then bring him home like that was where he belonged.

How embarrassing, though, you talked yourself up enough to let him come and introduce him to the rest of the girls at work, only to be stood up or forgotten or altogether abandoned. Your fantasy of being with him felt even more stupid and naive when you realized that it’d probably never be like that.

Your glass was refilled at 7:49pm, Zoey laughed when your head of marketing recounted the embarrassing moment when a picture of Maeve ended up on the company instagram story.

Frustration, anger, maybe both when the clock struck 8pm. Forty-five minutes late without a text message? But those emotions were drowned out by the judgment: why do you care, he’s not your boyfriend, this doesn’t mean anything.

You answered too quickly when he called, phone pressed to your face: where are you?

Pulling up, down the street, I’m so sorry.

You handed your drink to Tristan, pushed out to the parking lot to find him jogging towards the door in the dark sky.

“Hi, hey, why are you out here?” his smile faded when he could see you were upset.

“I had no clue where you were and you didn’t even bother to text me--” you were stopped dead on the sidewalk, the sky was a light purple and he grabbed your hand to tug you back towards the entrance.

“I’m sorry, I know, my meeting went late and the traffic was terrible, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“You said you’d be here at 7:15 and I’ve been in there by myself--”

He didn’t understand, his eyebrows dipped on his forehead in confusion and he pulled at your arm again. “I know, I’m sorry, but let’s get back in there so you can--”

“No, Harry,” you yanked your hand out of his grasp. A deep breath, a twinkling light above the horizon, a plane on final approach to LAX. “Just give me a minute.”

He sighed, looked over his shoulder to the big windows that allowed a peek into the party. He didn’t say anything, waited for you to speak when the light at the intersection across the street turned green.

“I was stupid for thinking this would be a good idea,” you said aloud, arms crossed in the parking lot. “But it’s fine, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s obviously a big deal,” he held a hand out, gesturing to the emotion in your voice. “I fucked up, I get that. I’m sorry--but I tried to call you and tell you I was going to be late, something’s wrong with my phone.”

Happy couples strolled out of the restaurant, arms linked with to-go boxes in hand. The air was still warm, streetlights illuminated the wrinkle in his forehead when he took a step forward. “Is this about more than the party?”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed by his ability to read you and sense the real tension beneath the surface. So you lied: “No.”

“Y/N,” he said your name like he knew your words weren’t true. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should break the silence that you’d both been living in for weeks. Unspoken, so far--the feelings and the sex and the uncertainty of what it meant had been woven into your life and now you were about to tug the thread and see if it unraveled.

“We’ve been kidding ourselves, Harry, don’t you think?” When he tilted his head to the side, you took it as a cue to continue. “We’ve been acting like a couple and you’ve been acting like the father of my children and we can’t do that.”

His lips parted and your heart seemed to stop when he didn’t say anything. He licked his lips, hands in his pockets when he said: “okay.”

“Okay?”

An incredulous tone in your voice put him on the defense.

“What do you want me to say?” His shoulders lifted to his ears, a shake of his head when he dropped your gaze. “Living with you and spending time with the girls has been the greatest thing I’ve had all year, I mean that. But it’s your house, they’re your children. It’s your family.”

He was right, but it didn’t mean the words didn’t sting like salt in a wound when he asked: “Do you want me to move out?”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

He scoffed, upset or bothered or maybe both. “I was never trying to overstep any boundaries.”

“I know you weren’t,” you said quickly. “That’s the problem, all of this happened so naturally and you fit into our lives so well and the girls fell in love with you and I--”

You cut yourself off, clamped your mouth together as if the words would pry their way out.

“You what?”

“I don’t want them to get hurt again.”

He pointed a finger to his chest, anger on his face. “By me? You think I would do something to hurt them?”

“Not intentionally, Harry,” you let your arms flail against your sides. “But that doesn’t mean that you won’t. Their dad left, their grandfather died, and then you moved in and suddenly it’s like you’re the missing piece they never had but that’s not realistic!”

“Why not?!” He was bothered now, more emotion in his eyes when his hands went up to run through his hair.

“Because you’re you. You’re a musician. You’re recording an album and going on tour and you’re not really able to be present. You couldn’t even show up tonight!”

“I’m not Luke,” he shook his head.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then why does it bother you that I was late? Why does that matter if I’m here now?”

“Because if you’d do it to me you’d do it to them. We don’t need to be left by another man this year.”

You didn’t mean for the words to come off so biting and harsh. He nodded slowly, chest deflated before he brought his eyes back up to you. “Fine. I can get my stuff and stay at Jeff’s.”

The shift in his demeanor felt heavy, his shoulders angled away and suddenly the magnetic pull between your chests was no longer there, like the thread had been snipped altogether and your words had been the scissors.

“I--I’m not trying to be a dick.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I understand.”

“I just don’t want them to get hurt.”

“Or do you not want to get hurt?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it,” he said, a few steps towards you when his face softened. “Tell everyone I say hi. I’ll go get my things before the girls are home and I’ll be out of your hair.”

He let his arm snake around your waist, a kiss to the side of your head before you could stop him--not that you would have.

He left you there in the parking lot, alone again for the third time this year, walked out on and deserted when your eyes welled with tears. You turned on your heels to head inside, hoping that Tristan had kept things together and hoping that the champagne was still flowing.

Jeff found you first, hand on your elbow when he spotted you in the hallway near the bathroom, mascara on your cheeks when you tried to soak up tears with a folded napkin. “Hey--where have you been?”

“Harry’s moving out,” you said it quickly. “He’s going to--uh--he’ll stay at your place, I think, for now.”

He looked over his shoulder and back at the gathering behind you. “Is he here?”

“I found him in the parking lot--he left, though.”

“What happened?”

Where did you start? When was the line crossed? Was it when he started playing with the girls in the backyard? Was it when he carried CeCe up to her bed after Maeve’s sleepover? Or was it all the way back when he came to your birthday party and kissed you at the top of the stairs in an empty house?

“Nothing, it’s just time for him to move out,” you shook your head, embarrassed by the emotion streaming down your cheeks. You tried to laugh it off, shook your head and blotted your face again. Now wasn’t the time for this conversation and it certainly wasn’t the time for the tears.

“Y/N, stop. You’re letting him walk out of your life just like that?”

You looked up at him, thrown off by his question. “You don’t even know what happened. I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

“No--I don’t know, but I also know that I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with him and the girls.”

“He’s twenty-four, Jeff.”

“So what? That’s going to stop you from doing what’s right for you?”

“How is it right for me? He can’t be the type of person that Maeve and CeCe need.”

“Can he actually not be, or is the age thing getting in the way?”

“I can’t talk to you about this right now,” you pulled away from him, bothered by his strong opinions and his know-it-all attitude. Some things never changed.

“Don’t ruin something good just because you don’t know how it will end.”

You gave him the finger as you walked away, forced out a laugh and tried to flip the switch: happy, grateful, excited and ready for another glass of champagne.

He dropped it then, you left him with no choice but to follow you back out to the party. He ate mini cheesecakes before the crowd started to disperse and drove you home, a kiss on the cheek before you climbed out. Call me in the morning, he said. Translation: I hope you change your mind overnight.

Harry’s car was gone, and if you had to guess, the bed upstairs was made and the drawers were empty. His keys weren’t on the hook by the back door and when Shelli dropped off the girls and they raced inside, Maeve’s face fell.

“Where’s Harry?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought this far ahead, still numb from the whiplash of emotions. “He’s at Uncle Jeff’s--he’s gonna stay there from now on, I think.”

“Wait, so he moved out?”

“Harry’s gone?” CeCe asked.

“Not forever, no, no--he’s just not going to live here.”

“Why not?”

“He has to work,” you spit out quickly. “He’s busy.” What were you supposed to tell them? Mommy’s an idiot.

“Why does that mean he can’t live here?”

“Because he just can’t,” you said, a sigh when you knew the answer wasn’t good enough for Maeve. She must have sensed the emotion in your voice, though, because she didn’t push it.

“Can you bring your sister upstairs and start getting ready for bed, please?”

Shelli was at the island, quiet and observant when Maeve let out a reluctant sigh but ushered CeCe forward. They climbed in silence, and when the faucet was turned on, all bets were off.

“What on earth happened?”

“He can’t stay here, Shelli. We can’t do whatever it was we were doing.”

“Which was...”

“Pretending that he was their dad or something and me pretending that sleeping with him was normal.”

“And where does being happy factor into this nonsense equation?”

“It doesn’t.” You busied yourself at the sink, grabbed for the sponge and wiped invisible crumbs from the granite to keep your hands busy. “After Luke and my dad, I was just stupid, okay? It was poor judgment.”

She set her purse down on a stool and watched you closely. “Why does your happiness always come last, Y/N?”

“Because! My happiness doesn’t matter if the decision is stupid. Me plus Harry just doesn’t make sense!” You whispered at her, voice wrought with emotion. “He’s so young and busy and he’s in the industry and--”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Which part?”

“The industry, him being a musician.”

You waved her off like she wasn’t sniffing the truth out of you with ease. “It’s just a piece of it.”

“Y/N, just because your parents’ marriage didn’t work doesn’t mean you’re destined for the same future.”

You stopped wiping at that. “Really? Cause I’m thirty-two and already divorced.”

“But that’s because Luke is an asshole,” she reasoned, “not because of you or the girls.”

A sigh from between your lips, fervent wiping again with the tough side of the sponge, you were sure you felt something sticky. “Well, I doubt Harry would ever be the kind to settle down. That’s unrealistic. He’s famous and busy and he probably is sick of being on carpool duty anyway--probably wants to get back to snorting cocaine off of someone’s tits.”

She let out a quick laugh, shook her head. “You are really in love with him, aren’t you?”

“No,” you looked up at her again and then back at the counter. “I’m just being honest.”

“I don’t think he was ever snorting cocaine off of anyone’s anything. I might not know him as well as Jeffrey does, but, he seems pretty happy here with you three.”

“The girls loved having him here,” you said the thought aloud, it escaped into the air before you could realize Shelli didn’t need anymore ammunition.

“And did you?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” you moved back to the sink, wrung out the sponge and then turned to face her. “It was nice, I guess.”

“Well, then I guess that makes four.”

“Four what?”

“Four people who were all happy with the way things were going. Before you went and turned it upside down out of fear.”

“Okay,” you held up your hands, hoping to end the conversation. It was too late and you were tired--the final glass of champagne had your eyes heavy in the passenger seat of Jeff’s car. “I need to sleep.”

She let out a sigh and picked up her purse, moved around the counter to come and wrap her arms around you. “Don’t let your past ruin your future.”

“Goodnight,” you said sweetly, hoping that your tone would usher her out of the house and into her car, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

She laughed, called over her shoulder when she made her way for the door. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

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AN: one word, yikes.