Leah
Bella met Liam on Friday afternoon.
I almost canceled three times.
The first time because Bella had come home with glitter in her hair and an entire story about the playground cat that somehow involved a lunchbox, a missing cracker, and a boy named Lucas being “not a good detective.”
The second time because Liam texted at three-ten.
Still okay for me to come by?
And my stomach did the thing it had been doing lately whenever someone asked instead of assumed.
The third time was when Olivia showed up ten minutes early and looked at my face.
“Oh, honey,” she said. “You’re in your hostess panic.”
“I am not hosting.”
“You wiped the counter twice.”
“It was dirty.”
“It was scared.”
I gave her a look.
Olivia walked past me into the kitchen with a paper bag from the bakery near he
