“I know. He looks different than when I knew him,” I muttered bitterly.
He helpfully whispered back, “Don’t worry, your boob isn’t showing.”
“Thanks, bud.” I was afraid I would say something dumb when he got over here. Or worse, not say anything at all.
“I’m going over to him. I can’t wait.” Dylan got up and excitedly ran off to meet Luke.
“Dylan, wait.” I started to get up too, then changed my mind and sat back down. I decided that using my baby as a shield was a great idea.
No handshake. No, ‘Oh wow, it’s been a long time, you haven’t changed a bit’bullcrap hug. And absolutely no kiss on the cheek or elsewhere, no matter how much I found myselfgrowing curious about whether it would feel the same to touch him.
All contact would be blocked by the baby nursing heartily at my breast. Rocky sighed, headed over to me, spun around a few times, and then crashed on my feet, providing me with a canine shield. I knew I liked this dog.
Dylan and Luke were frozen near the bears at the roundabout. Luke’s eyes, so much like Dylan’s, filled with tears he quickly blinked away as he gazed reverently at our son, searching his face for a clue on how to address him.
“Dylan. I have waited so long to meet you,” he finally murmured.
Nine words. That voice.
I closed my eyes as memories crashed into my mind in wave after wave, enough to drown in. His voice echoed in my head as a lifetime of words skipped through my thoughts like stones over the surface of a river. I heard us laughing and playing together as children, him calling me beautiful when we lost our virginity to each other in the back of his truck. Tears pricked behind my eyes when I recalled him telling me he would love me forever as he asked me to marry him. Then years later that same voice sobbing when he realized what he had done and screamed at my mother to take me away...
There had never been a moment in my life when he hadn’t beenmine. But I didn’t know him anymore. Too many years had passed between us.
I needed to get a grip.Ididn’t matter right now. Dylan mattered. And Dylan wanted his father. I would do anything I could to give him that.
“Let’s go talk to your mom,” Luke said.
Shoot!They were coming over here. Calla, the baby shield, was still in place, and Rocky was snoring on my feet.Now or never.Rip it off, like a Band-Aid.
“Lily, thank you for coming over.”
“You’re welcome. I figured it was silly to wait, to dragthis out. Dylan was so determined to meet you.” I shrugged and that same liar’s laugh escaped me like it had earlier with Violet and Dad.
His gorgeous chocolate brown eyes gazed at me like they always had—possessively, protectively, like I was the only thing he could see—and I fell under his spell, drowning myself in the memories his presence evoked.
It had been almost seven years, yet my heart felt like no time had passed. But looking at him made it obvious everything about our circumstances had changed drastically. I couldn’t reconcile the two feelings. Everything I had ever felt for him rapidly resurfaced, and I was confused about how I should react.
The old Luke and Lily would be affectionate and at ease with each other. But I couldn’t be myself around him anymore; I didn’t know how. I remained tongue-tied and waited for him to say something.
“You have the same eyes as me,” Dylan observed as Luke sat in the chair across from me. Dylan sat on the edge of the fire pit between us staring at his father. It was true; every time I looked at Dylan, it was hard not to think of Luke. They had the same hair and build. Dylan would probably be tall like Luke, who was a foot taller than me. I always used to wear heels so I could reach his mouth to kiss it whenever I chose. And I used to choose to do it often.
Why can’t I stop thinking like this?
Luke grinned at Dylan and said, “Chocolate-covered eyeballs.” That grin had always given me a swoony belly whoosh, and this time was no exception. My physical reaction to Luke was disconcerting, to say the least. It was freaking me the heck out, to say the most.
“That’s what Mommy always says!” Dylan laughed. “What else do we have the same? Do you like to read? I do. I’m readingHarry Potterwith my mom. I like to draw. Do you? Did you carve those bears up? Will you teach me how?”
Luke waited a beat before he answered, probably to see if Dylan was done talking. Sometimes it was hard to tell. “When I was a kid, your grandma used to babysit me after school, and your mom and I readHarry Pottertogether. I like to draw, and I made the bears. If it’s okay with your mom, I will teach you whatever you want to learn.” He looked at me with a nervous smile.
“Awesome! My baby sister looked like Dobby the house elf when she was first born. I want to make a baseball bat out of a tree. Then we can play baseball. We can get my uncles and your giant friend Liam and my cousins and play all day! Your yard is even huger than my grandma’s. It will be so fun.” He stood and started swinging an imaginary bat while Luke chuckled at his antics.
“Dylan, Calla did not look like Dobby,” I insisted. This was a play argument that Dylan and I had often. I couldn’t remain quiet with Dylan looking at me with such joy.
“Her ears did, and she was all wrinkly and scrawny like Dobby.” Dylan laughed, then a serious expression came over his face and he turned back to Luke. “Do you like babies?” he demanded.
I froze, my lips parted as I waited, with far too much interest than I thought I should have, to see what he would say.
“I do like babies,” Luke answered. They both looked at me—Dylan with a satisfied grin, and Luke with a hopeful smile.
