“Look at all the children and dolphins at his feet.”
I stood next to her, our shoulders touching, the warmth between us spreading through the layers of my jacket and shirt. I’m not sure how long we stood there. I had never felt so alive—like life was full of possibility and she held the key. I wanted to soak in everything she saw—to see the world through her eyes and hold on to every second of wonder.
A bench sat only a few steps away along one of the pathways.
“Let’s sit there,” I suggested. “We can still see the fountain from that bench.”
She nodded and we walked to the stone seat. I removed my coat before she shivered, placing it over her shoulders.
“How did you know I was cold?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted you to wear my jacket.”
She smiled.
Our pastries were still warm when we opened the bags. We shared bites, feeding one another as if we’d known each other for years instead of hours.
When we finished our food, I threw the paper into a trash can.
“Do you want to dance?” I asked, returning to stand in front of her.
“There’s no music,” she answered with a giggle.
“Music is overrated,” I said jokingly.
I almost took back the ridiculous request. But then she stood.
I extended my palm upward, and she placed hers in mine. Then I looped my arm around her back, under my jacket, and tugged her close. She raised her arm and set it so it reached over my shoulder and her fingers lightly brushed along my neck. My pulse jumped and my breath caught. She glanced up at me, aware of my reaction to her touch. I started swaying, and we danced—to silence, but music seemed to be coming from somewhere between us.
When our song came to an end, we stood there, her staring up at me and me smiling down at her. And I leaned in. This time, not for a brush of our lips. This time I lingered and she drew closer in, giving me all the permission I needed.
We knew our bubble was preparing to pop. The walls were stretched thin. Our night wasn’t a lifetime. It was a rare gift—one we only held for a few short hours. But we had more that night than some people have in a lifetime together.
My lips memorized hers, telling her she was different, special, somehow mine, even though that didn’t make any sense. Nothing made sense. But she did. And when she kissed me back, I knew she felt everything I did.
We gave one another something to take away with us that night. And I’ve carried that piece of her with me all these years like an invisible souvenir.
We broke apart and I brushed a hair from her face, running my fingers down her cheek.
I started to say something to her about the future, but I couldn’t. What kind of promise could I make to her? I had no idea what was coming next.
So when she asked me, “Maybe we should exchange numbers?” I simply answered her, “Maybe.”
Chapter 19
Hallie
Nothing you do for children is ever wasted.
~ Garrison Keillor
Greyson is waiting for me again. He might think I don’t notice, but I do. I notice everything about him, from his incredible good looks to his kind and humble heart to the way he watches me. I see it all.
I pull into the lot and turn the van key, sitting in my car a beat longer than usual to gather myself.
If Mia weren’t in the picture, I’d be giving all green lights to the fireman waiting patiently in the Jeep next to me. I make a habit of never allowing myself to consider the hundred lives I could have lived if I hadn’t gotten pregnant. Every single one of them would be a life without Mia and they would be sorely lacking and entirely wrong.
She’s here. And providing her a stable life matters more than my feelings for a soldier I met nine years ago.
