“Gabe,” I say flatly.
“Yeah, sis.”
“I’m good.”
His smile widens. “Good enough for visitors?”
I sit up. “Visitors?”
Before I can check a mirror or fix my hair, Gabe hollers, “Come on in.”
A second later, a small human missile launches itself onto the bed.
“Are you okay?” Snooki asks, frowning as she squeezes my neck like I’m a long-lost woobie.
“I am now.”
Connor and Ollie trail in behind her. Ollie’s carrying a bouquet so big, I can barely see his head. Connor holds up a paper bag.
“Dad said you like pretzels.”
My hand flies to my heart. “I love pretzels.”
Ollie immediately shoves the flowers into my face. “I brought you flowers.”
“We brought you flowers,” Connor corrects.
The tender moment lasts exactly three seconds before it dissolves into bickering over who gets to sit closest to me.
A sharp whistle cuts through the air.
Harrison stands in the doorway, blue flannel sleeves pushed up, filling the frame in a way that makes my chest do something stupid and soft all at once.
“What did I say?” he asks evenly, full dad mode, hands on his hips.
“Behave,” they chant in practiced harmony, clearly well trained.
I press my lips together, smiling so hard it almost hurts.
I pat the bed, indicating where they can sit. “Connor on this side. Ollie over here. And you,” I say, pulling Snooki tighter into my lap, “you stay right here where I can keep an eye on you.”
She giggles, and they all crowd in around me. All except Harrison.
He lifts a hand in a shy wave. “Dinner’s ready when you are. No rush.”
“What are we having?”
“Pizza,” they yell, loud enough to take out an eardrum.
I stare at all three of them, as a swarm of butterflies erupts in my chest.
When I look back up, Harrison is gone.
But he brought the kids. And flowers. And pizza. The man couldn’t be more perfect unless I dipped him in chocolate.
Guilt creeps in. The perfect day I botched. The fact that I’m leaving.
I kick it all under the rug and focus on Snooki and the book she brought with her. An Angelina Ballerina book.
