Lara clasps her hands dramatically. “Are you ready to be my perfect partner to carbo-load with? Gabriel is so annoyingly healthy.”
“A panini at Café Luna? Or that pizza. Maybe a burger?”
“All of the above,” Lara answers.
I think back to Anton’s note. “But before we head out, Anton mentioned he’s in the shed? I thought I’d meet him first, and then we can leave?”
Kat lifts her eyebrow. “The shed, eh?”
Ava smirks, her freckles dancing with mischief. “He invited you to the shed?” She looks at me from under her auburn eyebrows. “He doesn’t even invitemeinto the shed. And he’s like, my bruncle.”
I laugh because I swear anytime Ava mentioned Anton as a family member when I did see her, she had a new way of describing him. The way he talks about her is special for sure, but then she is an exceptional woman by anyone’s measure. Younger than me, high-paid, intellectual job. A genius, some might say.
She teases me. “He’s very precious about his zen den.”
I glance between Kat and Ava, wondering what’s going on. “We are talking about a shed, right? Not a cult initiation?”
Kat laughs. “It’s just Anton’s workshop.”
Ava adds. “And actually, most of the boys go in there for a hangout from time to time, but it’s just one of those man-cave type places. Like a clubhouse.” Ava points up the side of the barn. “It’s up there behind the barn.”
I turn on my heel. “I’ll make sure to act impressed.”
11
The sun is now higherin the sky, and the first crack of direct light seeps just inside the double doors.
It’s getting later. I check my watch. Eleven o’ five.
I remind myself that sleeping in late is normal. Especially for people carrying a tiny human in them. But knowing something is normal doesn’t stop the twitch in my chest that tells me to go back and check on her.
But if I do, the door might make a noise and wake her, or Santi’s dogs might bark since they’re always there, sniffing around my place. I think I have some animals underthe porch.
“Relax,” Santi says from the other end of the workshop, not looking up from the small wooden horse he’s carving.
“I’m relaxed,” I mutter. “Just…concentrating.”
I’m that obvious?
“Uh-huh. Concentrating on that cute-ass woman you have up in your bed.”
“She’s not in my bed.” I scowl.
Though that would have been nice. It felt good having her in my hands again.
I go back to the piece of alder wood on my bench and run the sandpaper along the grain. Smooth, steady strokes. It quiets my mind the way nothing else does. When my hands are busy, the rest of me follows.
But this morning? My head’s all over the damn place.
Last night keeps replaying in loops. Freya curled on my couch. Her foot on my thigh. Her worries about work…everything. All the real shit that normal life contains was there, on that three-person sofa.
Our time together last night did nothing to make it feel less like the future I used to want. Hell, it made it seem like abetterfuture than I ever thought about. Freya is more woman than I ever could have imagined getting back in the day. She’s more curious, more tenacious, and braver than anyone I’d ever imagined behind my picket fence.
She’s got more ofeverything.Beauty…curves…
Santi continues the story he was telling about his boys. Kat’s son, Theo, and Santi’s foster kid, Owen.
“I mean, be honest,” he says. “You’re a dad now…”
