Luke spits his cereal back into his bowl as he sputters a laugh. I swear I hear the thump of Warren kicking his leg under the table as Luke wipes milk off his chin.
“What?”I ask, looking between them sceptically.
“Nothing.”Warren sends a warning look to his brother as he signs.
Clearly there’s a joke I’m not aware of here. I grow nervous wondering if I’m the butt of it.
“Seriously, what?”I ask, narrowing my eyes at Luke.
Luke side-eyes his brother, and there’s a silent exchange of a look that says,if you don’t tell her I will.
“I may or may not have had a Poison Ivy poster on my wall that got taken away at our last foster home together.”Warren does his best to look indifferent as he speaks, but fails.
I grin but push my lips together in an attempt not to tease.Is he blushing?Warren embarrassed? I never thought I’d see the day.
“So I should probably retire the costume then.”I raise my eyebrows at Luke as he covers a laugh.
“Don’t you dare.” Warren’s voice dips into a bass pitch that sends a single shock up my spine and goosebumps shooting down my arms. He didn’t sign his response for Luke either—he meant it only for my ears.
I sigh and shift in my seat to shake the feeling off. We’ve been on our best behaviour these past two weeks since our talk following my date with Calvin, and I’m not going to screw it up. Is it possible that Warren is cooperating because he wants me to break first? Probably. Is it possible that I’m getting dangerously close to breaking? Definitely.
Since the flirting ban, we have operated like a well-oiled machine. Though personally, I feel like the little engine chanting “I think I can” as it struggles up the hill every day.
I drive them Wednesday and Friday mornings—Wednesdays for errands and Fridays for Willow’s appointments. Warren insisted that if I’m grocery shopping for the house, he can’t let me walk it. “It’ll be getting colder, and Willow shouldn’t be out in the cold. Take the damn car.” It was his turn to interfere with my parenting—and I didn’t mind one bit.
Even while we remain safely chaste, I can’t help but consider what will happen when, or if, we both agree it’s safe to go on that date. I don’t give a lot of thought to the date itself, if I’m being honest.
I find my thoughts wandering past where we stopped in the kitchen… what would have happened if Luke hadn’t left his room? I think about it a little too much. Mostly before falling asleep in the safety of my loft. I try not to have these thoughts in front of Warren; he’s always looking at me so intently. I feel like he’d know. I do wonder what he thinks about at night though. If it’s me.
I take my plate to the kitchen and begin preparing Willow’s medicines. Warren follows, stands a few feet to my left and clears his throat before speaking. “What’s your day looking like?”
I can’t help but smirk at the clear platonic attempt of his tone. He may have slipped at the table, but he’s willing to play along.
“I’m having brunch with a friend, then the usual errands. My ex-roommate Emily is back in town for a wedding, but she leaves this afternoon. I’m a little nervous to see her.” I place the medicine bottle down and turn to face Warren.
“Why?”
“Well, Emily is great, but she’s someone who wears her heart on her sleeve. She might have a hard time understanding all the things I kept from her. I want to be honest, but I’m scared. I have a lot to own up to. Not to mention, I’ll have a very obvious new addition with me.”
“If Emily’s a friend worth having, she’ll be cool about it. You were trying to get by without being labelled—everyone can identify with that.”
I raise my brows at Warren as he packs an apple into a lunch box.
“What?” he asks, brows furrowed.
“No, nothing. You just said the right thing. I feel better now.”
“Don’t act so surprised.” He winks at me, and as his back turns, I allow myself a moment to look up at the ceiling in frustration.Why does he have to be so hot?
This would be so much easier if he was charming, funny, insightful, and brooding but hideous. Though, who am I kidding? It would probably still be near impossible.
After dropping Luke and Warren off, I pull into the café’s parking lot where Emily and I have planned to meet. Willow is crying as soon as the car stops moving, and I hush her as I gather my things from the front seat and exit the car. The new medication makes her irritable. The alternative is worse, of course, but I can’t help but feel frustrated that there is only one medication for her to try. If I have a headache, I have about eight different options from a drugstore alone.
“Hey, it’s okay, Will. We’re moving. Stroller time!” I click her car seat into the stroller, and she settles a little.
I hook the diaper bag around the handlebars and close Warren’s trunk. About ten days ago, I started noticing little additions to his car. In the back seat, he installed the car seat’s base so we don’t have to use the safety belt each time. A few days after that, a mirror that rests on the headrest and looks down at her appeared. Then, the newest addition, an emergency kit in the trunk. Filled with items that would tide us over until he could get to me in the event of a flat tire or some other issue.
Each one filled up a tiny space in my heart. Little gestures that made me feel seen, and more importantly, made me realise that Willow doesn’t only have me in her corner.
