I chuckle and motion toward the kitchen. “I have wine and beer if you want an adult beverage. Raid the cabinets for glassware. Only the butterfly and kitten cups are off-limits. Those are just for me. I don’t share well.”
She twists her lips into a smirk and waves me off. “Go on, then. I have snooping to do.”
I dash back up the stairs and start with Cora. I read her a book, answer at least ten unnecessary questions, turn on her white noise machine, and check the monitor camera before I give her a bunch of kisses. Luke is wide awake and playing on the floor of his room when I get to him.
“Bud,” I say, clapping my hands. “Bedtime, sleepyhead.”
“I’m not tired.” He looks at me and then yawns a long, drawn-out, dramatic yawn.
“Really?” I ask. “I had no idea you weren’t tired.”
I pick him up and sling him over my shoulder, making sure I’ve anchored my weight on my good knee.
Luke giggles, and I check the time on my phone. Twenty minutes. Grace has been alone downstairs for about twenty minutes.
“Buddy,” I tell him. “Tonight, we need to pick a short book, or you can ask me five questions.”
“Five?” he echoes and rubs his chin like he’s seriously weighing his options. “How about ten?”
I shake my head. “It’s too late. We have a big day tomorrow. We need to find a new daycare for you two chuckleheads.” I ruffle his hair. “Dad’s got a job to go to, and unless you’re old enough to babysit yourself and your sister…”
Luke sighs loudly. “Five questions.”
After giving him answers to five questions I never would’ve thought of in a million years, I turn the tables on him.
“Buddy,” I tell Luke, tapping him on the nose. “I have a question for you now. Would you like to join a class? What would you like to do for fun with other kids? Soccer or gymnastics?”
Luke opens his eyes wide. “Anything?” he asks.
I nod.
“Can we go to a pool?” He asks it so immediately and so completely that my heart twists. Swimming in the pool at the condo where Elizabeth and I lived was just about the only thing Elizabeth could do with Luke when he was little.
“Do you remember swimming with your mom?” I ask.
He nods. “I loved splashing. I don’t really remember Mom, though.”
“You know what does remember her?” I tap his chest. “Your heart. She’s always there, buddy, even when your brain is filled with so many new things you don’t think you remember her.” I stroke his hair and kiss his forehead. “Get a good night’s sleep, and I promise, I will find a pool tomorrow.”
I turn on the night-light, flip off the wall switch, and dash down the hall to my bedroom. I peel off the damp sweats and T-shirt, throw on my most comfortable jeans and a short-sleeved button-down shirt. Not a job interview kind of button-down, but what I hope looks like a date shirt, a comfy blue chambray. Then I head into my bathroom, roll on a refresh of deodorant, brush my teeth, and spritz the tiniest bit of cologne.
When I get to the living room, Grace is sitting on my couch. Her feet are curled up beneath her. She has poured two small glasses of red wine and two glasses of ice water. Both are on the coffee table. She’s thumbing through another album of photos.
“I feel like I need to give you some kind of award for most patient woman alive. You waited forty minutes for me. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re worth the wait.” She pats the couch next to her and lifts one of those dark brows at me.
I sit beside her, not sure how close I should get, but wanting to be so much closer than this. Now that she’s here, in my space, it’s like I can’t see anything else.
I am fascinated by her bare lips, the sharp ridges I want to run my tongue over on her top lip and feel each peak. I drag my eyes away from her lips and look down, but even the tops of her feet are tattooed. I could look at this woman forever and never grow bored.
“I am so glad you’re here,” I tell her. “I’m so glad you stayed.”
She cocks her chin at me, her full lips twisting into a grin. “I’m glad to be here. Now I have questions.” She scoots closer to me. She points to the wineglasses. “The bottle was open and fresh, so I assume you drink red?”
I nod. “I’m not a big drinker, so anything is fine. The water is perfect, but I won’t let the wine go to waste either.”
“Good.” She lines herself up beside me so our thighs touch. She has two photo albums and opens one to a page she’s clearly looked at a couple of times. “Who’s this?” she asks.
