“Maybe.” She cuddles closer. “Or maybe I just like attacking you.”
“Offer’s always on the table.”
She laughs then falls quiet, breathing slowing, body going lax against mine. Eventually, I force myself to slip out of bed so I can deal with the condom.
“You okay?” she asks softly when I crawl back in beside her.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Very sure.” A beat. “What about you, sweetheart?”
“I’m great.” She yawns. “Maybe the best ever.”
I draw her closer, let my eyes slide closed.
But as I drift off to sleep, the only thing I’m thinking is that she’s right.
Definitely the best ever.
Twenty-Nine
Finn
Chloe humssoftly from the family room as she picks out squares for the kittens’ blankets.
Plural because, according to her, they each need their own.
My laptop is open, my itinerary on the screen.
But, for some reason, I keep finding myself avoiding looking at it.
I need to check my inventory for the next craft fair? I should focus on that instead.
And I also need to confirm the details of my joining in on the next market at Bits & Bobs in Cedar Hollow.
And try out a new cocktail that requires five straight minutes of shaking to get the foam just right.
And Chloe needs help choosing between pink squares.
And dinner needs making.
And…
I sigh.
What am I doing?
I’ve been planning this trip forever, and it’s coming up now in just a matter of months.
Only instead of imagining myself hiking across the rolling green hills of Interlaken and sipping wine in Paris and walking through the cobblestone city center of Stockholm, I’m thinking about picking up Chloe from school.
And going to more Eagles games.
And sitting on the couch with popcorn and a cocktail and forcing Rhodes to watch another documentary.
I should be thinking about what I’m going to pack, booking last-minute excursions, planning out train routes.
