“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m just wondering if there’s someone else who’d be willing to take you in,” my mom says, wincing.
“Well, I thought about asking Penelope but—”
My mom puts up a hand. “Say no more. I think it’s a terrific idea.”
“Yeah? I don’t know. I don’t wanna be too forward, ya know? I don’t want to burden her.”
“You like her?”
“I do.”
“And she likes you.”
“Yeah, I’m sure of it.”
“Harper. Trust me, she’ll be glad you asked.”
I take my mom’s hand and give it a squeeze. “We just want to take it slow.”
“Hmm, well I hope you don’t dilly-dally forever. I think you two are so cute together. She’s good for you. I can see it.”
Trust me, mom. I realize it. And the idea of screwing up whatever me and Penelope have scares the crap out of me.
“Me too, mom,” I say, and kiss her on the cheek. “I should put Kailee to bed.”
18
Like A Family
As usual,my nerves melted away within minutes of seeing her. Now, walking next to her, close enough to feel her weight and warmth, it’s like I’m floating along in a bubble of bliss. The evening’s been so perfect, I almost want to pinch myself.
We’re strolling at a leisurely pace, with the Chicago River to our right shimmering and golden by the setting sun. The only thing more radiant is the woman next to me.
Penelope interlaces her fingers with mine. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” she says. “It’s so beautiful.” She presses against me, leaning her head into my shoulder. I can smell her shampoo. It’s indescribably lovely.
“It’s okay,” I say.
She pulls away and looks up at me. “It’sgorgeous. Not just okay.”
“I guess. But, compared to you, the river just isn’t all that great.”
“You are so corny.”
“Corny, honest. Potato potahto.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. I like your corn.”
“I don’t blame you. My corn is delicious.”
“Is it on the cob?”
I look at her, quizzical. We stop walking. Her sultry gaze tells me the innuendo was intentional.
My pulse quickens. My senses get sharper. I want to feel her close. To press against her. Let her know with my body how excited she makes me.
“I like you, Penelope,” I say.
