With all three girls standing protectively around my legs and holding on to my waist, I watch Blake as he studies them all with respectful eyes. Then he looks back at me and sighs.

“Well,” he says, pulling my keys from his pocket, “This is going to be interesting.”

For once I couldn’t agree more.

I look at my girls and give them each a reassuring smile. I place my good hand on each of their heads as I make the introductions. “Nycole, Kyndall, Rylie, this is Blake Morgan. My very, very good friend. He was actually my best friend growing up.” I give them a quick wink and whisper quietly to them, “Now ease up on the poor guy, he’s not that bad.” I grin at Blake.

Blake flashes me his gorgeous smile, but immediately turns his attention to my girls. “It’s nice to meet you lovely ladies.” He crouches down so he can look them each in the eyes. “I’m really sorry about the accident with your mom’s hand. I promise all of you that I’m going to do everything that I can to make her feel all better, if you guys don’t mind me helping her out for a while.”

I internally cringe at the word help. I watch my girls, each of them mesmerized by Blake’s beautiful and endearing smile, as they shake his hand. As they smile innocently back at him, I feel a wall crash down from around my heart.

Well, I guess Blake was right again.

This is definitely going to be interesting.

Walking into our house, I look at the living room in dismay. If I would have known how the events of today were going to unfold, I would’ve definitely straightened up. It looks like a tornado has been through the interior of my entire house. I vaguely remember tripping over the Lego house that Nancy and the kids must have built before she took them to her house, when I came home last night, but I didn’t bother cleaning it up. Now there are Lego’s strewn all over the floor along with a soccer ball, Hello Kitty pillow, Barbie dolls, Ken dolls dressed up in Barbie clothes, a couple of these tiny little dolls that I absolutely hate because trying to put their clothes on is a very daunting task, my bra and shoes from last night – oops...all over the living room floor.

I lean down slowly to pick up the bra as Blake enters the house with the girls following him. Quickly lodging it behind the couch before he can see it, I feel my hand starting to throb more and more. Blake, thankfully, stopped by the pharmacy on the way home for my pain medicine. The main question is when I can actually take it. I don’t want to be knocked out all night. What if Rylie has another accident in her bed? What if Kyndall has a nightmare? She’s had nightmares ever since Derek died. I guess I’ll have to try to tough it out tonight.

I turn to watch Blake observing the unfortunate state of my house. A corner of his mouth tips up when he spots the Ken dolls.

“Don’t laugh, Blake. That might be you one day. Actually, I guarantee that will be you if you hang around here long enough,” I say, giggling. I know this is the truth.

Chuckling under his breath, he walks to the kitchen and places the prescription bag on the counter. He turns to face the girls who are still on his heels. “Well, it’s a good thing I look good in pink.” He shakes his fingers at the girls. “But no sequins! That’s where I draw the line.”

Giggles erupt. Yes, I think the girls have definitely forgiven Blake. Traitors.

“Girls, one accident is enough for the day, don’t you think? I need you to pick up the toys and everything else that’s on the floor that doesn’t belong there and take it where is does belong. Okay?”

The girls just stand there looking back at me. I’m sorry…am I speaking Greek?

“Girls! Please, do as I say. This place is a wreck and I want us to make a good impression for my friend Blake.” At the mention of Blake’s name, the girls spring into action. Shrieks and giggles fill the living room as they run back and forth to their respective bedrooms putting away their things. I haven’t heard them giggle this much in a long time. Thinking back to this morning when I actually giggled as well, I’m beginning to think this is just a Blake Morgan side effect. He should come with a warning label.

“Mom, what’s your bra doing behind the couch?” Nycole says, holding up my bra for all the freakin’ world to see. I walk over and snatch it from her hand and put it behind my back. She gives me an extremely calculating little smile. “Well, you should put your stuff away, too. I mean, it’s only fair, right? Lead by example – that’s what you always tell me.”

Oh. My. God.

Did that just come out of my child’s mouth?

I tilt my head and stare at her, raising only my left eyebrow. This is my code for “You have about two seconds to think about what you just said and correct it before you really get in trouble.” She has actually become very familiar with this code over the last couple of months. Needless to say, she walks behind my back and grabs the bra, still holding it where Blake can see. I’m pretty sure she’s doing this as an act of retaliation. “Sorry, Mom. I’ll put it in your drawer for you.”

“Thanks, Nyc.” I want to add a major lecture about how to appropriately speak to adults, mainly your own mother, but I figure I should wait until Blake isn’t around.

I turn and see Blake silently laughing in the kitchen.

“Nice job. That was obviously a very effective form of communication.”

“Yeah, well, you pick up a few useful things as a parent, such as telepathic chastisement. I’ve tried it on Harlow, but evidently it’s strictly a parent/child thing,” I state nonchalantly. I walk into the kitchen where Blake’s leaning against the counter.

I turn quickly to avoid thinking about how sexy he looks in his torn jeans, army green t-shirt (slightly resembling his G.I. Joe one – minus the letters) that makes his eyes look even more amazing, and his gorgeous hair – still flipping up behind his ears, but now evidently styled to look that way. Grabbing a glass out of the cabinet, I clear my throat – jeez, it’s hot in here. My throat feels like sandpaper.

“Want something to drink?” I ask.

“Nope, I’m good.”

Glass in hand, I make my way to the refrigerator and reach up to pull the door open. Mind obviously on all things Blake, I ram my gauze covered fingers right into the door.

“Ahh!” I scream. Tears immediately find their way to my eyes from the pain. Instinctively, I drop the glass in order to once again clutch my throbbing hand safely against my chest. Glass shatters all over the kitchen floor.

“What happened?”

“Are you okay, Mommy?”

I hear the girls cry out as they run into the kitchen to see what major calamity just occurred. Kyndall’s leading the pack, but when she sees the glass all over the floor, she stops abruptly. This leads to Nycole running straight into the back of her and Rylie running into the back of Nycole. It’s actually a very Three Stooges moment and if my fingers weren’t shooting pain throughout my entire body right now, I would’ve found it hilarious.

Before I can say anything, Blake immediately runs to the girls and herds them out of the kitchen using his arms. I watch Kyndall and Nycole jumping up and down trying to see over them, while Rylie sticks her little head just underneath. Concern etched all over their faces.

“Alex, are you okay?” he shouts over his shoulder as he signals for the girls to stay put.

“Yeah, I’m okay!” But I know I’m not. The tears that started from the pain continue from frustration. Still holding my throbbing hand, I look down at the floor. At the sight of the glass shards that are going to be an absolute bitch to clean up, my lip starts quivering and I know I’m about to lose it. Just as I hear Blake round the corner, I attempt to wipe my face with my hands. I quickly suck in a breath of air as the pain once again shoots up my entire arm.