Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(42)

“Broker meeting should be interesting.” Britt says when we get in my car at eleven. We’re headed to a lunch meeting with an influential broker, the kind of person who can send us a lot of business.

“Um-hmm.” I input the address of the restaurant into my phone’s GPS and start driving. It’s twenty-five minutes away, someplace in north Scottsdale with a view of a golf course.

“What’s going on with you?” Britt rifles through her purse. She pulls out her travel make-up bag and flips open the visor mirror.

“Isaac asked us to move in.” I glance at her. She’s staring at me, lip gloss wand poised in mid-air.

“Are you kidding?”

“Do you think I’m kidding?”

“No.” She touches-up her make-up in silence. I merge onto the freeway and wait.

She finishes and replaces the little teal pouch in her purse. “You should do it.”

I groan. I knew that was going to be her response, but still.

“How about you tell me why you don’t want to,” she suggested, “and I’ll compose valid arguments for each of your points.”

“That sounds fun,” I deadpan.

“I’m waiting.” Her voice is serious.

“We don’t know each other well enough, I don’t want any drama, and I don’t know if my dad can live alone.” I say it all in one stream of air, then suck in a big breath.

Britt turns to face me and sticks out her hand, three fingers pointing up. “First point”—she grabs ahold of one finger—“how well does anybody really know anybody before they live together? And besides, you know him better than you think.” She folds down a finger and grabs the second one, on the other side of her middle finger. “I’m skipping to your third point because I need to know more about your second one. As for your dad, he’s an adult. He can live alone. He likes being alone. And you know that’s a fact because he’s hunting alone right now. Again. Like he has a hundred other times. All alone in the wilderness. Do you get my point?”

I nod, staring ahead, watching the cars around me. I worry about my dad hunting by himself. And this morning when I told Britt he was off on his own again, she rubbed my back and reminded me how capable he is. I stuff down my worry. “What do you need to know about my second point?”

She clears her throat in an obvious, look-at-me way. I glance quickly over and snap my head back to attention, but I’m grinning. Britt has counted down so that only her middle finger is sticking up in the air. I bat her hand down, but we’re laughing.

“Don’t be juvenile.”

“All jokes aside, why do you think there would be drama?”

I check my side mirror and move into the right lane. The GPS has informed me my exit is in two miles.

“What if something happens between us?”

“Is there something between you?”

“No…Yes. I don’t know.” That day, standing there in the foyer of his place, there was something. It was so intense, I had to physically remove myself.

“OK, let’s just assume there’s an attraction. Is that such a bad thing?”

“We’re in this really awkward situation I thought only happened on daytime television. Adding to the emotion sounds like a bad idea. It’s too much, too soon. Claire needs a mom and a dad. That’s why he asked me to move in. He wants to give that to her. And I, of all people, should know how important that is.” I exit the freeway and come to a red light, signaling a right turn. This conversation is getting heavy. Thank goodness it’s just three more miles to the restaurant.

“Your second point is a front for what you’re really afraid of.”

I sink into my seat, defeated. Britt is right, and we both know it.

“You’re scared out of your mind to trust Isaac. To let him in to your heart. Which might happen if you move in with him. But if you don’t move in with him? What happens then? Claire doesn’t get to have what you’ve always wished you could give her. The same thing life screwed you out of.”

Britt’s words are spot on. They fall perfectly in line with my truest thoughts and build on my dad’s arguments to give Claire the father she needs. Her words coalesce in my mind and form the decision I always knew I would make.



Claire fell asleep in my bed tonight, and that’s not something I usually allow her to do. I almost always make her fall asleep in her own bed, fearing the cultivation of a habit of nighttime waking I’ve heard other moms complain about.

Tonight I needed comfort. Broken arm propped on a pillow, Claire’s little body tucked into my chest, we read book after book until her eyes grew heavy. She closed her eyes, and I closed the book. I held her, listened to her breathe, counted the seconds it took for her chest to fill with air and then decompress. I carried her to bed, situating her so the extra pillow from my bed kept her broken arm at the right angle. I kissed her face and went to double-check the door locks.

Lying in bed now, after a shower, I’m waiting for a return text from my dad. I haven’t heard from him all day. Normally not hearing from my dad would have me worried out of my mind, but right now I’m filled with thoughts from my conversation with Britt.

My phone dings. I grab it, assuming it’s my dad. It’s Isaac.

My mom would like to have you and Claire over next weekend. She’s dying to meet her. And you.