Sandra's heart squeezed at the trust in Emma's voice. "You know you don't need makeup to be beautiful, right? You're gorgeous just as you are."
"I know. And I know you're going to say that a woman doesn't have to wear makeup to meet society's standards, and I totally get that." Emma's words came out in a rush. "But I'd still like to learn how to wear just a little, so I don't end up looking like a clown."
Sandra laughed, remembering her own teenage experiments. "The first time I tried mascara, I looked like a raccoon. It was waterproof, and I didn't have makeup remover. My mom wasn't much help since she barely wore any herself."
Emma giggled, relaxing visibly. "So you'll talk to Dad?"
"I'll bring it up," Sandra promised. "But I can't guarantee he'll say yes. He might not be ready for his little girl to grow up that fast."
"If you ask, he'll consider it," Emma said with confident certainty. "He listens to you."
Before Sandra could respond, Toby jogged over, his cheeks flushed from running. "Sandra, when you marry Dad, you can live here and won't have to drive so far every time."
The words hit Sandra, squeezing her heart. They weren’t unpleasant, but startling in their casual directness. She felt herbreath catch, and when she glanced at Terry, she saw he'd gone completely still, the football frozen in his hands.
Emma's face lit up. "That would be amazing!"
Sandra looked back and forth between the children and Terry, her mind racing. The kids had clearly been discussing this possibility, and their enthusiasm was both touching and terrifying.
"I think we're getting ahead of ourselves," Terry said carefully, his voice gentle but firm as he walked over to join them. "Sandra and I are still figuring things out."
"What's to figure out?" Toby asked with the brutal honesty of childhood. "She's smart, helps with homework, cooks good food, and she makes you smile different from how you used to."
Sandra felt heat creep up her neck as both children looked at her expectantly. Even Terry seemed at a loss for words, his eyes searching her face for some clue about how to navigate this moment.
"That's very sweet, Toby," Sandra managed, her voice slightly hoarse. "I love spending time with all of you."
Time stretched awkwardly until Emma, with mature social awareness, clapped her hands. "Toby, want to play a video game inside?”
After the kids headed into the house, Terry caught Sandra's hand and pulled her over to the porch swing. "Sit with me."
She settled beside him, their feet pushing against the ground to create a gentle swaying motion. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she leaned her head against him, breathing in his familiar scent.
"I know you were caught off guard by what Toby said," Sandra began.
"Not really caught off guard. I’m surprised he said it directly to you, maybe, but the kids have been pretty obvious about how comfortable they are with us being together."
"Good. I'm glad."
They swayed in silence for a moment before Sandra shifted to look at his face. "Emma has asked me to talk to you about something.”
His brows lifted, and a heavy sigh burst forth. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?”
She laughed. “It’s not bad. She wanted to know if I could teach her about makeup when she turns thirteen.” Before he could respond, she quickly added, “She said that her mother’s heavier makeup isn’t what she wants, but likes the way I use a little.”
His shoulders hefted. “Thirteen? Is that a good age? God knows, I’m clueless about this stuff.”
“I think it’s a good time to start thinking about skin care, and little makeup tidbits if she wants. But we also talked about how our society dictates a lot of what women think we’re supposed to look like, and that she should make up her own mind.”
His gaze held hers as he lifted a hand to cup her face. “Babe, you’re good at this, and I trust you. So, yeah… if she wants you to teach her when she’s thirteen, then I’m good with that.”
“I just don't want you to feel pressured by them or by me. I’m not trying to do extra to make them like me."
Terry's arm tightened around her. "I know how I feel about you, Sandra. I know how I feel when you're not with me. I know I want us to keep moving forward because I can't imagine anything but good things in our future." He paused, his voice growing softer. "But I also don't want to rush you. I need you to be completely sure about what you're getting into."
Sandra smiled, feeling his steady heartbeat under her palm where it rested on his chest. "I know what I feel, too."
"And?"
