At the bottom of the stairs, I blow out a breath. Then I take them two at a time. When I hit the top, I discover her door is ajar. Panic flares immediately, but it fades quickly when I hear music playing from inside.
Sounds like an old Lake Paige song. I can’t help but smile when a wave of nostalgia hits me. Once upon a time, I met Lake at a New Year’s party, and she actually married Daniel’s dad years ago. It was crazy as fuck back then, but now I see her most holidays.
My smile turns to a full-on grin and my chest pinches strangely when I push the door open farther and find Savannah brushing the hair of a little girl. She stops at the chorus and brings the brush to her mouth, dramatically singing the lyrics along with Lake, much to both girls’ delight.
The smaller of the two jumps up on the bed and bounces, hair flying. Rather than stop her or scold her, Savannah holds out a hand to the other girl and helps her up onto the bed. Then she jumps up herself and the three of them flail in what I suspect are supposed to be dance moves and scream-sing the lyrics.
I ease the door shut and lean against it, watching them, and thatache in my chest unfurls. Seeing Savannah like this makes it easy to imagine a future I thought I’d long missed out on.
I feel lighter than I have in years.
When she catches sight of me, she bites down on her lip, trying and failing to suppress the big smile on her face. She’s so fucking gorgeous it actually hurts to look at her sometimes. But right now, it’s like first aid to my damaged soul. Her smile is contagious.
She bounces off the bed and rushes toward me, the excitement in her expression making me feel more important than I think I ever have.
“You came!”
As she crashes into me, throwing her arms around my neck, I fall back against the door.
“Sorry,” she says quickly, pulling back, like she’s as surprised as I am by her excitement.
I don’t let her get far before I pull her back in and bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume, or maybe it’s her hair products. “Don’t apologize for being happy to see me.” I press my lips to her soft skin and breathe her in again. “It’s nice to be wanted.”
The words are meant for myself, but when she pulls back and gives me a soft smile, it’s obvious that she heard me.
She pops up on her toes and presses a kiss to my jaw. “I’m really glad you came.”
Our quiet moment is cut short when the girls squeal about kissing boys, their voices so high-pitched they make me wince.
Savannah introduces me as her boyfriend. Piper, the older of the two, straightens and informs her that we’ve already met. The smaller one, Alice, suddenly turns shy and clings to her sister.
Damn. The two boys downstairs and the two girls up here, the oldest of which can’t be more than four? The Donovans have their hands full.
We head down for dinner, and the apartment descends into complete chaos. It’s tight quarters in the kitchen, and Alice refuses to sit anywhere but on Savannah’s lap.
I sit beside her, and while John asks a million questions aboutmy time with the Bolts—and the kids interrupt every five seconds asking for the cheese or another meatball, or to see a video of a play John brings up—Savannah relaxes beside me, squeezing my thigh here and there and shooting me secret smiles. It’s not a romantic dinner to say the least, but it’s nice, just being with her and observing her as she interacts with the people she cares about.
“Did you know Santa is coming this week?” Piper tells me seriously.
I nod. “Yeah, three more days, right?”
Her eyes shine bright. “He’s bringing me a Barbie dream house.”
“And me too,” Alice says from atop Savannah’s lap.
“Maybe,” John says. “So long as you’re on the nice list.”
“Oh, these girls would never be on the naughty list,” Rosalie says. “And to make sure, they’re going to go sit in the living room quietly while we clean up, aren’t you, girls?”
In unison they say, “Yes, Mrs. Donadio.”
The girls dart off, and once John has wiped the spaghetti sauce from the boys’ faces and hands, John Junior and Frankie toddle after their sisters.
“That was incredible,” I tell Rosalie, wiping my face with my napkin one last time. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Smiling, she holds up her empty glass. “Thank you for bringing the wine.”
I reach for Savannah’s plate and stack it on mine, but before I can do any more cleaning, Rosalie waves me off.
