“Me too,” says Wes.
I raise a hand. “Me three.”
Charlie and Judd wander back inside the house, arguing over the logistics of the run, but Wes drops down on the front steps, and I sit next to him.
His shoulder nearly touches mine. I stretch my legs out and kick off my shoes. “God, that feels good.”
“You look really pretty,” Wes says, nudging his shoulder against mine.
“Thanks,” I say, nudging him back.
Wes rests his elbows on the step behind him. “So if you had to, rank your dates so far—best to worst.”
I twist around until I’m curled up on the step, facing him. “Clearly, Harold was the worst. And not just him but the whole date. I mean, any date where goats are eating your clothes has gone downhill.” Wes laughs while I continue, “For first place, hmmm…I had a lot of fun on the first one with Seth. And tonight was a blast, too.”
Wes has a fake outraged look on his face. “You mean the date with Judd isn’t in the running for first? I’m shocked!”
“Yes, shocking, I know.”
“So which date is the best kisser? My money’s on Hundred Hands.”
I duck my head so he doesn’t see the blush.
He leans forward and lowers his head, trying to catch my gaze. “Don’t tell me you’ve had all these dates but no good-night kiss.”
I straighten, and then he’s so close. I push his shoulder playfully, but my hand lingers there. Before I can pull it away, his hand covers mine. We’re both surprised, but neither of us moves. His eyes go to my lips and he squeezes my hand. I catch myself leaning closer to him.
Warning bells blare through my brain, but I can’t stop.
The sound of the door opening behind us is what does it. I push back, nearly falling off the step I’m sitting on. We both look shocked at what almost happened.
I glance to the door and see Nonna, alarm etched on her face. I jump up. I can feel Wes behind me.
“It’s not what it—” I begin, but Nonna interrupts me, her face softening.
“I just got off the phone with your mother. They’ve admitted Margot to the hospital. The contractions haven’t stopped, and her swelling is getting worse.”
My stomach drops, and it takes a few moments for me to process what she’s said. “Is she okay? Is the baby okay? This is too soon. She’s not supposed to have the baby for another six weeks!”
Nonna wraps me in her arms.
“It’s not the best situation, but she’s okay. The baby’s okay.”
She doesn’t say it, but I feel like she left off the wordsfor now.
I barely slept last night. There’s been no chance to talk to Margot, but she did send me a text telling me not to worry. I talked to Mom for a while and she kept assuring me the same thing: Everything is going to be fine.
Olivia is asleep in the big guest bed with me. The room is still mostly dark with only a faint yellow light filtering in through the blinds, which highlights the rows of framed pictures on the opposite wall.
My grandmother has a portrait done of every grandchild when they turn two years old. We’re all dressed in really fancy little outfits that have our name monogrammed across the front as if she knew in advance how full this wall would get. My eyes scan from one side to the other, stopping once I find Margot. Her dark hair is short and she’s got these little ringlet curls all over her head. Her smile is big and her eyes are dancing. I wonder if Margot’s baby will look like her when he or she is two.
My throat clenches. I can’t stay in this bed any longer.
I slide out, careful not to wake Olivia, and tiptoe from the room. The house is quiet as I pass a pallet in the den full of my younger cousins, and I smile as I notice the tangle of arms and legs. I miss those uncomplicated days when our biggest concern was who was going to get stuck on the edge, where you were likely to end up off the pallet, onto the hardwood floor without a pillow or a blanket. Just like my little cousin Webb is right now.
I pull two blankets off the back of the couch, covering Webb in one and taking the other with me out to the front porch. Wrapping the blanket around me, then dropping down on the front steps, I lean back against the top step and watch the sky go from a deep blue to a warm yellow-orange and finally see the first edge of the sun peek out from the horizon. The air is just cold enough that I can see my breath when I exhale, but I’m warm, wrapped up in the thick blanket.
I glance at the house next door.
