Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(40)

“I wouldn't describe you as wet-dog,” I mutter. It's the best I can do right now without terrifying her.

“And when...if you move in with me, you're going to have to get used to having wet hair in front of me. Among other things.”

Aubrey shifts uncomfortably, her eyes guarded. We say nothing, then suddenly she straightens, like a puppet whose string was pulled. She looks back over her shoulder, to the bathroom across the hall. “Ready, love?” She throws her question across the few feet of space.

I don't hear Claire's answer, but I guess it was affirmative because Aubrey steps away. Claire walks out, a swipe of frothy toothpaste on her chin. With one thumb I wipe it off, realize I don’t have easy access to a towel, and rub it into my scrubs. That’s what I’ve seen parents in my office do, but it’s not usually toothpaste. It’s most often snot, followed by food crumbs. I thought it was gross, but now I get it. Although maybe I’ll make it a point to buy more tissues. Snot might be a little too far for me.

I follow them to the living room, where Claire's backpack, lunchbox, and water bottle sit on the end of the couch.

Aubrey looks through her purse while I gather Claire's things. The family photo on the end table catches my eyes and makes me realize John hasn't made an appearance this morning.

“Where's your dad?” I ask on our way out the door.

“Hunting,” Aubrey bites her bottom lip after she says it. Worry clouds her eyes for a brief moment.

“Is he retired?” I lay Claire's things next to her car seat while Aubrey straps her in. She leans over Claire, her hair swirling around her head.

“He's a journeyman. He worked this weekend, so he's off today and tomorrow. I think he left sometime around three this morning.” She clicks the buckles into place and closes the door. I do the same, looking at her over the roof of her car.

“So your dad plays with electricity for a living and goes hunting? Is there anything else that could make him more of a badass?”

Aubrey smirks. “He was a Marine.”

My hands fly into the air. “Of course he was. He probably thinks I'm some weakling trying to come in here and steal his family.”

Aubrey snorts. “Hardly.”

“He doesn’t?” I raise my eyebrows, prodding.

“No.”

“What is it he thinks, then?” I can tell she doesn’t want to tell me, but this is something I need to know. John has more influence over Aubrey than anybody. Knowing his thoughts might help me.

Aubrey stares at me. The rest of her face is still, no emotion expressed, but I know there’s a tornado smashing its way through her insides. Aubrey may be a statue sometimes, but she’s not stone.

She breaks. Sighing, she mutters, “He supports your idea of us moving in. He thinks it would be best for Claire.”

“Really?” I'm grinning. “And what do you think?”

“I’m still thinking about it.” She peers into the window at Claire, then glances at the gold watch on her left arm. “We need to get going. Follow me?”

“See you there.” I walk to my truck, resisting the urge to skip or dance or do something ridiculous to let out this excitement.

John supports me. That's huge.

Now all I have to do is make Aubrey see that Claire needs both her parents under the same roof.



When my phone rings at nine o’clock the next night, it startles me. After a morning full of patients, an emergency surgery, and dinner out with my office staff, I’m beat. The words in the book I’m reading were swimming together, and my head was growing heavy. Until my phone rang, anyway.

Now I’m awake. I splashed cold water on my face and changed my clothes. I’ll be at Aubrey’s house in a few minutes.

I don’t live far, which is a good thing. As I drive, I think of what Aubrey said when I answered the phone.

“Claire is asking for you.” Aubrey hesitated over her words. “I’ve tried putting her off, but she’s in meltdown mode, and I really think she needs you.” Even through the phone I felt how much Aubrey hated admitting it.

I arrive in record time, thanks to the late hour. Aubrey rises from the porch swing as I hurry up the path.

Disappointment falls over me. “Did she cry herself to sleep?” I wanted this moment. I want to be Claire’s knight in shining armor.

Aubrey looks at the house as if she can see through the walls and straight to Claire’s room. “No. She agreed to calm down when I told her you were coming. I needed a break from the wailing.”

I try not to show my relief. “Can I go in?”

“Sure. I’ll just wait out here.” She sits back down and peers out into the darkness.

Quietly I slip through the house until I get to Claire’s room.

“Claire,” I whisper, tapping with two fingers on the partially open door.

“Daddy,” she stage-whispers.

I push through and find her sitting up on her bed, smiling. She looks adorable in her yellow nightgown, her hair messy around her face.

“Your mom said you needed me,” I say as I sit beside her on the bed.

“I needed to say good-night.”

“Was that it?”

She gives me an offended look. “Yes.”

“Your mom said you were really upset.” I was expecting to walk into a tantrum like ones I’ve seen in public before, the kind where the parents look like they wish a sinkhole would suddenly open up below them.