Sheets rustle. I don’t want to miss her waking, so I quickly pour a mug of steaming coffee, then shuffle over to sit next to her. I like that I know how she takes her coffee after we chatted about it at the diner one day, but there’s still so much else to learn.
At the same time, she knows me. And I know her, at her heart. She is kind, loving, and quietly fierce. She is brave as hell and ambitious. She loves good food, a great romance, and libraries. She likes simple things. Bread and butter, as I found out last night. And books. I heard May say Sam has finally got a library card which she’s using “with glee,” as May put it. Making her happy sounds so easy, and ironically, I’d do just about anything to that end. I should do something for her…
She can be so tender, it makes my heart squeeze when I see her talking with one of the girls.
“Morning.” My voice is rough from disuse.
Her eyes blink open and the instant soft smile on her lovely face makes my heart kick.
“Sleep well?”
It’s a casual question on one hand, but she must feel its weight the way I do.
“Yes. Better than I have in a long time.”
Or maybe I’m reading too much into everything today. Either way, I’m happy with the response.
“Good. Me, too. Though I woke in a panic, worrying what the girls were up to being so quiet.”
Her grin splits and she chuckles, then sits up with a sheet wrapped around her and accepts the coffee mug I offer with a quiet thank-you.
“That must’ve been scary.” She takes asip and hums.
My stomach tightens. She’s too beautiful with her hair messy from sleep and her face bare. Sitting there wrapped in sheets like a gift, sipping coffee like it’s nectar of the gods and not the most basic drink…
I clear my throat. “For a second, it was.”
She looks up from her mug. “Only a second?”
“Once I realized I was here with you, it was far from scary.”
She bites her lip to hide a smile, but there’s nothing for it.
Right as I’m about to dive headlong into the pull of her and banish every concern pawing at me, my phone blares a ring signaling my dad’s calling, which actually means my girls are calling. I exhale and hold up the phone. “This’ll be Poppy, if I had to guess.”
She’s not bothered. If anything, she seems charmed.
“Daddy! Gram made us waffles! And we had whipped cream and sprinkles and special strawberry syrup!”
I hold the phone between us and Sam grins ear to ear while I feel a familiar crushing delight in this child. “I don’t even get a hello? A good morning?”
An aggrieved sigh comes through the line, then, “Good morning, Daddy.”
“Morning, Pops. Were the waffles delicious?”
“Best I ever had. Okayloveyoubye!” It’s all one smash of words, and then sure enough, the call ends.
“And this is my life.” I glance at the phone again, then toss it across the bed.
“I like your life.” Her voice is soft and her expression earnest.
Something flutters in my chest, then bursts to life, full color and light filling me up. Yet again, I’m not sure she has any idea how perfect herwords are.
Yet again, I’m not sure I can have them for my own. Not really.
I’ll have to stop taking things from her, even words, if I’m going to let that nasty voice of reason take over.
I reach up and smooth her hair behind her ear again, then let my fingers slide down her neck and over her shoulder, tracing down the line of her arm. “Do you?”
