"What will you two be doing today?" She asks, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Posey says shopping, so shopping it will be."
Through the kitchen window, I spot Cameron in the gazebo with his guitar, fingers moving across the strings.
Edison lies in his usual spot at Cameron's feet, ears perked toward the music. Even from this distance, there's something magnetic about watching Cameron create music. Something about the way his shoulders move with the rhythm, and how completely absorbed he becomes.
"Okay. Let's ask your dad," I say, pulling my attention away from the window.
Posey and I walk toward the gazebo. Edison rises as we approach, greeting us with a friendly bark and vigorous tail wag.
"Good morning, Edison," Posey says, reaching up to pet the large dog's glossy black fur. "Want to come shopping with us?"
Edison responds enthusiastically by licking Posey's hands, which sends her into a fit of giggles.
"What's this I hear about shopping?" Cameron looks up with a smile that makes my pulse quicken.
His dark hair appears mussed from the ocean breeze. There's something irresistibly relaxed about seeing him in this domestic setting. "I might join you. I need a few things myself."
Twenty minutes later, Henry helps us into the Rolls-Royce. Edison takes his usual position with his massive head poking out the window.
Cameron settles into his corner of the backseat and sets about teasing Posey about her upcoming shopping spree. But when he pulls out his phone to read his messages, his jaw tightens.
Something in the message has upset him, I think.
When Henry pulls the car over in the shopping district, we all get out.
"Sorry, girls, I hate to disappoint you, but something came up," says Cameron, guitar in hand. "I can't shop with you. I'll see you at home tonight."
"Bad news?" I ask.
Instead of answering my question, he bends to kiss Posey goodbye. His hand briefly touches her hair with surprising tenderness. Then he's gone, striding away with that confident walk.
"Edison, come!" he calls over his shoulder.
The dog bounds after his master, leaving Posey and me standing alone on the sidewalk.
"Why doesn't Daddy Cameron want to come shopping with us?" Posey asks, her small hand slipping into mine.
"He does—but he's a busy man. Everyone wants his attention. He'll shop with us again," I say, wondering what that text message contained.
News about his record contract? News about Posey?
I take Posey's hand and we walk down the quaint, old-fashioned street.
"Let's shop here," says Posey, seeing a cheerful children's clothing store bursting with bright colors.
"Hi, can I help you?" asks a smiling salesperson once we step inside.
"We're looking for a wardrobe," Posey says. "I want jeans, and I want a T-shirt like my mommy."
Posey glances up at me, checking if I'll correct her in front of the saleswoman. The word “mommy” hits me square in the chest, but I don't contradict her.
"Well then, let me show you to a fitting room and bring you some items."
"This is the first time I've shopped like a grown-up," Posey announces proudly a few minutes later, modeling a new outfit in the three-way mirror.
She's chosen bright blue jeans and a soft pink T-shirt.
