“Twelve, I’ll turn thirteen next month.” She sighs, rolling her shoulders back before she peers over at Arlo as though she cansee through me. “Mom told me that teenagers have to earn that right.”
Arlo gives me a panicked look, and for some reason, it pleases me greatly.
But he’s sly, I’ll give him that. “Oh, a Christmas baby!”
“Christmas Eve,” Lark corrects, tilting her head. She’s no fool, she knows he’s deflecting. “Then I’ll gain the privilege of staying home alone.”
Truth is, I have absolutely no valid reason to not let her stay home alone. She’s honestly more responsible than me most days. I just haven’t figured out how to let that cord go. She’s my baby, probably the only baby I will ever have.
My Christmas miracle.
“You don’t look old enough to have a teenager,” Arlo says softly as Lark goes back to watching the movie.
True to Lark fashion, though, she quips right back, even though I didn’t think she was listening. “She isn’t.”
A blush settles on Arlo’s face. “I’m out of practice.”
“You are so good at it.” I act affronted, but I’m not, not at all.
“Mom, there are a bunch of kids over there. Do you think they are welcoming?” Lark looks over at me, her hand already on the door handle.
My mouth dries up. This is it, the moment that I know I should let her go off and make friends outside of school, but all I see is that little girl with curly-haired pigtails and a pale, freckled face who saw me as her entire world. Now she wants to go make friends.
Logically, I know I should let her go, but the attachment is real, and it hurts.
“Yeah,” Arlo cuts in, briefly touching my shoulder. “Torrie is over there. Her mom owns the local pizzeria. She’s a little crazy and talks a mile a minute, but I think you’ll like her.”
“Really?” Lark bounces in her seat, staring at the group of kids hanging out on the busted swing set.
“Be back by the time the movie’s over.” There, I said it. My voice didn’t crack or wobble, and I’m still in one solid piece.
Lark charges out of the truck, completely forgetting to shut the door in the process and nearly tripping over her own feet as she darts to the small park.
Scooting over, I shut the truck door, keeping the frigid cold out. My eyes stay locked on her slender form. I can just make out her voice as another little girl with thick frames and dark hair jerks her head her way. A spike of adrenaline threads through my veins until the little girl smiles.
“She’s good,” Arlo assures me, and I can’t determine if he’s overstepping or teaching.
Lark’s words drift back to me.Let them teach you.
Knowing my little bird is far smarter than I am, I fiddle with the blanket a moment before I snatch up my leftovers and the canister of hot chocolate.
“She is.” I force the words out past the lump in my throat. “She’s never asked to play with other kids before.”
“Really?” His surprise laces his tone.
“She worried far too much about me or schoolwork to run off and play.” I stir my fork in my mashed potatoes, unsure what to say about that.
“Friends are good.” I know he’s trying to make me feel better, so I give him a little smirk. “Has it always been just you two?”
Just like that, he snaps me out of my little pity party with the blush across his cheeks. “Why? Want to know if there is a Mr. Birdie?”
I swear I see a flicker of something in his eyes. “It’s a logical question. I’m sure Mom would like to know if a guy is going to stop by looking for you.”
I laugh out loud at that, releasing a full body chortle that breaks the tension. “No. There’s no Mr. Birdie.”
“Artificial insemination then.”
He’s fishing, and I’m taking the bait. “I think that’s illegal in all states at the unripe age of sixteen.”
