“Will you be upset?” August asks, looking cautiously between Bo and me.
“No, of course not, sweetie. Just, what will you dress as? It’s a bit late to go shopping.”
“I was thinking a ghost. If you’re cool with me cutting up a sheet…”
I immediately sense her hesitancy. Thedo it first, then ask for forgiveness afterwardattitude I swear she somehow inherited from her Aunt Sarah. Bo and I make eye contact from his crouched position on the floor as he wipes Joey clean. He grimaces, and I immediately spot the missing scissors from the knife block on the counter.
“Well, that depends, sweetie. Did youalreadycut the sheet?”
“Maybe.” She smiles mischievously, twisting from side to side. It’s so similar to her dad’s guilty face that it’sveryhard to be as annoyed as I probably should be. But I just got home. I can’t be the bad coprightaway. And I would have said yesifshe’d asked first.
I close my eyes, nodding as I take a deep inhale.
“Sorry,” she says softly. “Itwasan old one, from the closet.”
“Ask first next time, kid. Go get ready. We’re supposed to be out of here in ten minutes.” I kiss her forehead, then bend down to pick up a now naked and clean Joey off the floor. “And let’s getyouready, parsnip.”
Bo pulls the delicious smelling cake out of the oven as I carry Joey down the hall toward the bedroom that she and Charlie share. Inside their orange and floral explosion of a room, I find Charlie already half-changed into her black and white striped leggings and pulling her pirate dress over her head.
“Aye, aye, Captain Charlie!”
“Aye, aye, Mommy!” she says, giggling as she unsheathes an imaginary sword from her belt loop.
“Your sword is in the closet,” I tell her.
“Win?” Bo calls out, shouting from the kitchen. “Your mom is calling. She wants to see the girls’ costumes.”
“I’m dressing Joey!” I say, forcing Joanna to remain still by pinning her between my knees. She’s so much more active than the other girls were at her age—I swear she’d scale a wall if given the chance. “Tell her we’ll call when they’re all dressed!”
Bo appears at the door, holding a phone in his hand, pointed outward toward us, apologising silently with a tilted grin.
“Oh, hey, Mom! Sorry, it’s a littlebusyat the moment,” I say, looking at Bo with a deadly smile.
“Charlie June, are you going as a pirateagain?” Mom asks. Shealwayscalls her Charlie June. The moment we told her June was her middle name, Grandma June decided Charlie had twofirstnames.
“Yes, Grandma,” Charlie says, running over to the phone. “But not August. She’s a ghost this time.”
“And Joey?”
“A parrot,” I say, holding her up to the screen. The beloved costume that each of our girls has worn their first few Halloweens. “It’s definitely the last year it’s going to fit any of them.” I pout toward Bo, off screen. “I could barely do up the zipper.”
“I guess we’ll just have to have another,” Bo says, giving the phone to August as she passes behind him in the hallway. With two eyeholes cut in not exactly the right place, Gus takes the phone and walks away, chatting busily to her grandmother.
“And put themwhere, exactly?” I ask, looping my arms around Bo’s neck. We’ve already filled this little house with as much furniture, children, and love as it can probably hold. But we’re sentimental people. Neither of us wants to leave the home where we fell in love or brought our girls home to. We’ve marked the girls’ heights against the bedroom door since they could stand. We’ve planted an apple tree in the backyard, above their makeshift treehouse, that is just starting to harvest fruit. The greenhouse has grown over with ivy, the earth claiming it back. And I feel the same—claimed by this house.
He hums, tucking his face against my neck and breathing me in. “I missed you.”
“Don’t dodge the question,” I say as he trails kisses along my jaw. “And don’t distract me either.” I giggle.
“Haven’t you heard? I have a hotshot wife. She could buy us a fancy new house,” he says, his hands drifting low on my back.
“Oh, could she, now?” I ask, tilting up to kiss him.
“Maybe if I ask nicely…” he says, tugging my lip between his teeth. “Ornotso nicely?”
“I missed you too,” I say, brushing his hair out of his face. He’s continued to grow his hair and beard over the years, and Ireallylike it this long. It suits him. He also ditched the contact lenses for glasses permanently—after I begged for a few years.
“But no new house. I’m staying put here. This isourhome. How could we possibly leave? It’s bad enough when we’re up at the camp all summer.”
