Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(41)

She crosses her arms, as best she can, anyway. It’s more of an awkward ‘x’ in front of her. “I told Mommy I wanted you to come here and say good-night, and she said we didn’t need to. She said you were probably asleep.”

“I see.” I nod.

“Mommy said I could call you, but I said no way, Jose.” Her little head shakes, and I catch my laugh in my throat, where I keep it firmly in place.

“Well, I’m here now. What can I do for you?”

“I want you to do that thing you said your mom did when you were a little boy. When she called you a bug.”

Ohhh. While Aubrey ordered Claire’s lunch at the zoo I’d told Claire a story about how my mom put me to sleep at night. I never imagined it would lead us here, to a late night meltdown.

“OK, hop into bed.” I hold back the covers far enough for her to slip inside. She wiggles down into them, and I pull them up to her chin. “You have a broken arm, so we’re going to do a modified version. Your right arm can go under the blanket, but your left arm sticks out. Deal?”

“Deal,” she nods excitedly.

I start down at her legs, tucking the comforter in on either side, working my way up until I’m around her right shoulder. “There,” I say, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Snug as a bug in a rug.”

She giggles. “Good night, Daddy.”

My heart lurches. “Good night, Claire.”

Her eyes stay on me until I close her door. I leave the house and find Aubrey in the same position I left her in.

“Where’s your dad?” I ask. His truck’s in the driveway.

“Asleep. He has an early wake up tomorrow. He’s going to Tucson for work.”

I lean against one of the brick pillars that support the patio roof. “Does that mean he’ll stay overnight? If so, you don’t have to eat alone tomorrow night. I can take you and Claire out.”

“That’s very sweet, but it’s only a day trip. He should be home by dinnertime.” Aubrey shifts, her eyes on me. “How was Claire?”

The laugh I held back comes out now. “She said she told you no way, Jose.”

Aubrey laughs too. “We’re going to have to work on her sass.”

“She wanted me to tuck her in.”

Aubrey rolls her eyes. “I know ‘snug as a bug in a rug’ as well as you.”

I shrug. “What can I say? Yours must leave something to be desired.”

She scoffs. “Hardly. I wouldn’t have given in so quickly if my dad weren’t sleeping.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s been killing me that I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning.” I look into her eyes as I say it. I need her to understand how serious I am. “I want to tuck her in. Every night.”

“Isaac.” Aubrey sighs. I can’t help that it makes me think of the last time she said my name like that, thought the tone might have been different that night five years earlier.

“Give you time, I know. I get it.” I push off the wall and head for my truck. When I get there, I turn and say loud enough for her to hear me, “If she wants me here tomorrow night, I’m here. OK?”

Aubrey nods. “OK.”

My truck thunders to life, and when I pull away, I see Aubrey hasn’t gone inside yet. Her head’s tipped back, her hands cover her eyes. Is she crying?

I nearly stop the truck, but something tells me not to. Whatever Aubrey’s feeling, she needs to feel it by herself.



Claire asks for me the next night. And the night after that. Then the next two.

The first two nights Aubrey leaves me alone to say good-night, but on the third night she sits on the end of Claire’s bed while I read to her.

On the fourth night, Aubrey tells Claire a bedtime story about a girl named Natalie who lives in Africa.

When Claire falls asleep, Aubrey walks me out to my truck.

“Where did you get that bedtime story?”

She smiles shyly and taps her head.

“Seriously? That came from your imagination?” I lean a shoulder against the closed door of my truck.

She looks down and says nothing. Does my open admiration make her uncomfortable? I start to ask, but she grabs me and pulls me in for a hug. It takes me by surprise and lasts maybe three seconds. She pulls back but I can still feel the heat of her against my chest, as if I’ve been seared by her touch.

“Aubrey, I—” I stop. I can't tell her that the three seconds she just spent in my arms felt more right than anything I've ever felt. I can't scare her away. Not now. Not when I'm so close to convincing her to move in. “Never mind.”

Relief floods her face. “So, um,” she rocks back on her heels and presses her lips tightly together. “Thanks for coming over again tonight. To say good-night to Claire, I mean. Drive safe.” She turns back and hurries up the sidewalk.

I climb into my truck for the fifth night in a row and pull away, my thoughts focused on Aubrey. What is she guarding inside that heart of hers? It must be extraordinary. Tonight, I caught a glimpse of it, and it felt like looking into the sun—blindingly bright in the moment with dazzling pulses of light to follow.





One of the benefits to working with my best friend is that I get to see her all the time. Sometimes, this positive becomes a negative. It’s hard to hide from people who know your heart.