Hi, Mr. Styles

Two

Another box of cereal, potato chips Erin didn't recall choosing... Hope hummed innocently, pretending to check the grocery list, only she couldn't even yet read complicated words. High cheekbones gave her away as she pranced down the aisle in front of the shopping cart; she was caught.

"Excuse me," Erin rounded the side of the cart, grabbed the chips and held them up. She almost bought the feigned surprise when Hope's eyes widened, her jaw dropping. "I didn't see that on the list, mija. Did you?"

"I did, I added it," Hope said proudly, shoving the notepad into Erin's face, or at least as far as she could reach. Sure enough, scribbled there with the pen in her left hand, she'd jotted down "chips", albeit with an extra 's'. It was clever enough that Erin could only laugh. She'd let her slide this once.

"Good one," Erin admitted, tossing the bag back into the half-full cart of items. She'd finally found time for an overdue grocery shopping trip, although she'd nearly put it off again and ordered pizza.

But that was something her parents always resorted to and it felt impersonal. Her mother, a housewife incidentally, hated cooking. The mere thought of lugging bags up to their second-floor apartment exhausted Erin but she didn't have a legitimate excuse for depriving her daughter of a home-cooked meal.

Besides, it was quality time. Hope usually wanted to help and while countless messes were made, they usually laughed too hard to notice. They traded jokes – knock-knock jokes were Hope's favorite – and stories about their days, often conversing in Spanish to expand Hope's vocabulary. Calvin was never particularly interested in Erin's second language, her heritage or anything of the like, which only further determined her to instill pride into her daughter.

Fajitas were on the dinner menu; quick and easy prep left more time for Monday Movie Night. Hope couldn't get enough of My Life as a Zucchini, despite having watched it several times.

However, Erin didn't mind, as its somewhat grown-up message resonated with her personally and taught Hope a thing or two. She often chatted about running her own orphanage someday. Erin took pride in her daughter's selflessness and nobody could ever say she was a bad mother.

Perhaps that accusation wouldn't be totally inaccurate out of context currently, as Hope had wandered further down the aisle while Erin compared tomato sauces and was talking to a stranger. Only he wasn't a stranger at all.

Erin suddenly wished she'd at least brushed her hair. It was a mess, the result of a long workday. Hope dragged him over by his hand, showing off the gap where her tooth had been a few hours before. The tooth fairy was due tonight; Erin would have to remember to grab cash at the register.

"Come say hey to my mom!" she insisted though she'd left him with little choice. He didn't seem bothered though, his smile reaching all the way up to his eyes as he gave her a little wave.

"Hello, Ms. Torres," he greeted, switching the shopping basket from one hand to the other. There wasn't much inside, just enough for one person. Erin couldn't admit it yet but she hoped he was single. Sure, he was her daughter's teacher, but he wouldn't always be. That kindergarten graduation Hope was so excited about was just around the corner.

"Please call me Erin, anything else sounds weird," she said, nodding at his basket as Hope ran off, having done her duty. "Eating light?"

"Every night since it's just me and Ace," he shrugged, poking at one of the TV dinners inside. "My German Shepherd. He eats the same thing every night so he's not worried." There was a small bag of dog food underneath it all. "Frozen dinners are an acquired taste, I guess," he added with a smile.

"Not really a cook, huh?" Erin asked, glancing just past Harry at Hope, shaking her head as her daughter held up a box of cookies she'd grabbed from an endcap. Whose bright idea was it to put that stuff where kids would be sure to see it?