“Right? It’s a wonder I’m upright now. For a minute, I thought I’d have to call Dec and Finn to come peel me up off the ground.”
He’s ridiculous, but it’s making me all kinds of warm and restless to see him so chatty and relaxed. “You could call me, too. I’ve got the fastest commute.”
He takes this in, seeming to feel the weight of the words I’m offering. “Thank you, Sam. That means a lot.”
It’s not that I wouldn’t have helped a neighbor in LA. But I probably wouldn’t have offered it to a man unless he was a child or someone elderly. Never would I extend a hand to a man close to my age.
“How old are you?” It slips out before I can stop it.
Surprise flashes over his features, but he answers immediately. “Thirty-seven. You?”
“Thirty.”
“So you’re Finn’s age.” He says this like he’s come to a conclusion.
“Am I? How far apart is everyone?”
“I’m thirty-seven, Eirinn and Mac are thirty-six, Dec turns thirty-four in a few weeks, then Finn is thirty, and May’s twenty-eight.” He grins when he sees my eyes widen.
“Eirinn and Mac are twins?” There’s some amount of math involved here that means Mary was pregnant for years. Which is obvious when one discovers she has six biological children. But I’ve never stopped to think about how nonstop that must’ve been.
His lips curve up into a small smile. “Irish twins.”
“Wait, what is that?”
He grins full-out now. My heart flips, and I fold my arms across my body like they might protect me from the attack that is his pretty smile.
“It means they’re less than a year apart.”
My mouth drops open.
“Yeah. I never thought twice about it as a kid, but as an adult…” He shakes his head. “Apparently, it was a big surprise when Mac popped up on the radar. Lots of people joking about whether my parents understood how it had happened and such.” He wrinkles his nose.
There’s something about the gesture that cracks me open. That little gesture, so boyish and human.
“They were certainly busy. And your mom is an absolute hero.”
He’s already nodding. “She is. Even if she’d never had any of us, she would be, though.”
Is this man actually some sort of advanced cyborg species programmed to say the exact right thing? I love that he honors his parents and appreciates what his mom went through to have all of them. I love even more that he sees her value simply because of who she is, and not by virtue of the fact that she produced kids.
“I love that.” I have to say it, and he should know it.
Mr. Bingley jumps up on the windowsill and draws our attention. This one’s ready for another prison break.
“Ah, I see it.” He walks right over and grabs Mr. Bingley. “Hold this for me.”
I chuckle at the way he so capably takes my fluffy little beast in hand, and also the humor that flickers in his eyes. I never would’ve imagined he was like this those first few times we talked.
He opens the casement window wide and pulls a measuring tape from his back pocket, drawing the bright yellow across the sills, then tapping the lengths into his phone. In seconds, he’s done.
“Okay, I’m going to run over to the hardware store, get what we need, and if you’re okay with it, I’ll be back this afternoon to get it all fixed up.”
“I’m more than okay with it. Can I ask you, did you happen to change my tire?” I came out one morning to find the donut gone and a perfect new tire in its place. I’d been meaning to get a new one, but I’m still trying to be cautious with expenses and it fell down my list.
“No. I assumed you’d bought one. Did you not?”
His eyes narrow and I can practically see his mind on the hunt.
