“Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
The word slipped out.
They both heard it.
Marcus left before either could examine what it meant.
For three days, they returned to normal.
Mostly.
Caroline left for work.
Marcus serviced broken AC units through Phoenix’s punishing heat.
Amara went to day camp.
Morning waves across the fence resumed.
Then Thursday evening Caroline appeared at Marcus’s door with red clay, poster board, miniature plastic cacti, and a bag of glitter.
Marcus looked at the glitter.
“No.”
Caroline walked past him.
“Amara requested volcanic effects.”
“She’s making a desert ecosystem.”
“There are volcanic regions in Arizona.”
“Not in our neighborhood.”
“Creative interpretation.”
Amara came running.
“Caroline!”
Marcus stepped aside.
The two disappeared toward the kitchen table.
He closed the door.
That became the pattern.
Caroline returned for the project.
Then for ice cream because Amara received an A.
Then because she had cooked too much pasta.
Then because Marcus repaired a loose gate hinge for her.
Then because Amara wanted help sketching a room for art class.
After two weeks, Marcus stopped pretending there needed to be a reason.
Amara began setting three places at dinner.
Caroline started keeping sparkling water in Marcus’s refrigerator.
Marcus left a spare phone charger on the side table because she constantly forgot hers.
Nobody discussed any of this.
Their neighbor Mrs. Morales noticed.
Of course she did.
She noticed everything.
One Saturday morning she caught Caroline near the shared mailbox.
“You’re good for them.”
Caroline almost dropped her envelopes.
“Excuse me?”
“Marcus and that little girl.”
Mrs. Morales smiled.
“He hasn’t smiled this much since Renee.”
Caroline became uncomfortable.
“We’re neighbors.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“That’s all.”
“Of course.”
Mrs. Morales walked away.
Caroline returned to her house and sat alone at the kitchen counter.
The place was beautiful.
She had chosen every finish herself.
White oak cabinets.
Polished concrete.
Custom lighting.
Large windows.
Clean lines.
It was exactly the kind of house magazines liked.
It had never felt emptier.
That evening she went to Marcus’s.
Again.
After dinner, she stepped onto the back patio because she needed space from how easily the three of them had begun moving around one another.
Marcus followed.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“That sounded convincing.”
Caroline looked at him.
“What are we doing?”
Marcus froze.
She folded her arms.
“I’m serious.”
He looked toward the dark yard.
“We eat dinner.”
“Marcus.”
“You help Amara with projects.”
“Marcus.”
“You insult my cooking.”
“I praised the chicken twice.”
“The chicken was dry.”
“Focus.”
He exhaled.
Caroline’s voice softened.
“I come over almost every night.”
“I know.”
“Amara expects me.”
“I know.”
“You trade security shifts so you’re here more.”
Marcus looked at her sharply.
“You noticed.”
“Of course I noticed.”
Silence.
Caroline stepped closer.
“I go home forty feet away and lie in bed thinking about you two.”
Marcus gripped the patio railing.