“…I hope it’s dinosaurs!” He finally takes a breath, and I smile at him in the rearview mirror as I wait at a stoplight. He pretty much butchered the worddinosaurs, making it sound more like dino roars, but it’s cute. I’m going to miss when he gets the hang of all the words he mangles.
“Oh yeah, have you guys read a book about dinosaurs yet?” I know they haven’t, but I like to get his brain working whenever possible.
“Hmm,” he says, patting his chin with his pointer finger. “Nope. It’s gonna have a T-Rex. I bet it does! Him can eat the bad guys up. Chomp, chomp, chomp.”
I laugh, focusing back on the road.
He only just turned three, but he talked early, and he hasn’t stopped chattering since. Even his pediatrician was blown away with his vocabulary at his three-year checkup.
I might be biased, but I think he’s a genius in the making.
Okay, he doesn’t have perfect grammar, but I can always understand what he means. Although, that’s probably because I talk to him all day every day.
Lucky takes off to the library door as I’m still trying to get my keys put away with the heavy bag of books digging into my forearm. I should have grabbed him when I had the chance, but he’s fast. Fortunately, we already made it onto the sidewalk. He still has a lecture coming his way, though.
A man comes around the corner, heading to the library doors. He has a thick wool overcoat with a hoodie underneath. The hood is pulled up, so I can’t make out his face.
He makes it to Lucky before I do, and I frown.
If he opens that door, Lucky will bolt.
But I have a bigger concern.
The outfit isn’t unusual for winter in Boston, but it freaks me out not being able to see the man’s face.
He turns toward me and waves, squatting down next to Lucky.
An exhale of pure relief leaves my lips. Oh, thank God. He’s not someone from my old life.
That would have been truly disastrous.
I don’t know the man’s name, but he’s familiar.
We’ve been coming to the library three or four times a week since the temperature dropped, and the last few times we’ve been in, I’ve seen him. He always has a table full of books spread out around his laptop. While we’ve never spoken, he has smiled at me a few times.
I’m not sure what he says to Lucky, but he nods and hikes a thumb at me, like maybe he’s suggesting they wait for me before opening the door.
Now that the terror has worn off, I get myself in gear, striding forward at a rapid pace.
I quirk an eyebrow at my kid. “You know better than to run off like that.”
“I wanna go in!” he says, his head bobbling up and down. His messy blond hair falls into his eyes, and he shoves it back with a huff. “Mommy, let’s go.”
God, I swear.
Children are like tiny dictators.
The man holds the strap of his messenger bag and pushes to his feet as he readjusts his glasses with his other hand. “After you.”
A strange fluttering hits my stomach as he holds out an arm, gesturing that I should go first.
He’s cute.
He’s on the slender side, I know that much from seeing him without his jacket on previous occasions.
A few days’ worth of stubble lines his strong jaw, and he has short light-brown hair that’s straight and a bit longer on top than on the sides. There are small laugh lines around his brown eyes, and I have no idea why I find that attractive.
Maybe it’s the way he smiles at Lucky as he tries with all his might to tug open the heavy library door.
