You're the only one in the old party without kids. Mike has three — one boy (7) and two girls (5 and 4). Eleven has twins (a boy and a girl, 6). Dustin has one little guy, 3. Max has a daughter, 4, and she's been dating Lucas for about a year now.

You and Mike have been dancing around each other for months. A lingering look when he drops his kids off at your place for playdates. A hand that brushes yours a second too long when he passes you a coffee cup. Text conversations that start about weekend plans and end at 1 a.m. Neither of you has said a word. It's your secret, and it's killing you both.

Max shows up at your door on a Saturday, her daughter already running past you toward the backyard where your niece and nephew are playing.

"Thank god," she says, kicking off her shoes. "I love her, but she's been asking for the 'big backyard' since breakfast."

You laugh and lead her to the kitchen. She pours herself a glass of iced tea like she lives here, then leans against the counter and watches you for a second too long.

"So," she says. "Mike's kids are here."

"Yeah, they come over most weekends. You know that."

"I do." She takes a sip. "You know his kids hate everyone he dates, right?"

Your stomach does something weird. "I... what?"

"Every single woman he's tried to bring around. The boy ignores them completely. The older girl hides in her room. The little one won't even look at them." She sets her glass down. "But your name? Your name comes up at dinner. 'When are we going to your house again?' 'You make the good mac and cheese.' The youngest, Lily, she draws pictures of you and tapes them to the fridge."

You feel heat creeping up your neck. "That's just—they're comfortable with me, that's different."

Max gives you a look. The kind of look she's been perfecting since 1986.

"Is it?"

You don't answer.

She sighs, but she's smiling. "I'm just saying. Mike's been single for two years. His kids have a veto power they don't even know they have. And you?" She points her glass at you. "You've already been pre-approved by the toughest hiring committee in Hawkins."

You stare at your hands.

"Also," Max adds, softer now, "the kid Lily told me last week that she 'wishes you were their mom.' So. You know. The kids are literally trying to set you up."

Your heart is pounding.

Max finishes her tea and stands up. "I'm gonna go watch the kids. Just... think about it."

She's halfway to the back door when you say, "Max?"

She turns.

"What if I mess it up? What if we mess it up? He's got three kids. That's not just a relationship, that's a whole life."

She smiles, small and genuine. "Yeah. It is. But you've already got the hard part down." She nods toward the backyard. "They already love you. The rest is just convincing the grown-up."

She leaves you standing in the kitchen, heart full, phone in your hand, Mike's contact already open on your screenYou're the only one in the old party without kids. Mike has three — one boy (7) and two girls (5 and 4). Eleven has twins (a boy and a girl, 6). Dustin has one little guy, 3. Max has a daughter, 4, and she's been dating Lucas for about a year now.

You and Mike have been dancing around each other for months. A lingering look when he drops his kids off at your place for playdates. A hand that brushes yours a second too long when he passes you a coffee cup. Text conversations that start about weekend plans and end at 1 a.m. Neither of you has said a word. It's your secret, and it's killing you both.

Max shows up at your door on a Saturday, her daughter already running past you toward the backyard where your niece and nephew are playing.

"Thank god," she says, kicking off her shoes. "I love her, but she's been asking for the 'big backyard' since breakfast."

You laugh and lead her to the kitchen. She pours herself a glass of iced tea like she lives here, then leans against the counter and watches you for a second too long.

"So," she says. "Mike's kids are here."

"Yeah, they come over most weekends. You know that."

"I do." She takes a sip. "You know his kids hate everyone he dates, right?"

Your stomach does something weird. "I... what?"

"Every single woman he's tried to bring around. The boy ignores them completely. The older girl hides in her room. The little one won't even look at them." She sets her glass down. "But your name? Your name comes up at dinner. 'When are we going to your house again?' 'You make the good mac and cheese.' The youngest, Lily, she draws pictures of you and tapes them to the fridge."

You feel heat creeping up your neck. "That's just—they're comfortable with me, that's different."

Max gives you a look. The kind of look she's been perfecting since 1986.

"Is it?"

You don't answer.

She sighs, but she's smiling. "I'm just saying. Mike's been single for two years. His kids have a veto power they don't even know they have. And you?" She points her glass at you. "You've already been pre-approved by the toughest hiring committee in Hawkins."

You stare at your hands.

"Also," Max adds, softer now, "Lily told me last week that she 'wishes you were their mom.' So. You know. The kids are literally trying to set you up."

Your heart is pounding.

Max finishes her tea and stands up. "I'm gonna go watch the kids. Just... think about it."

She's halfway to the back door when you say, "Max?"

She turns.

"What if I mess it up? What if we mess it up? He's got three kids. That's not just a relationship, that's a whole life."

She smiles, small and genuine. "Yeah. It is. But you've already got the hard part down." She nods toward the backyard. "They already love you. The rest is just convincing the grown-up."

She leaves you standing in the kitchen, heart full, phone in your hand, Mike's contact already open on your screen