“Purple!” Eliza demands.
“Yellow!” Caleb says at the exact same time.
“Lavender and lemon again,” I say, handing each one. “Remember to pace yourselves.”
Eliza rips hers open with her teeth.
“We’re not pacing today,” she says proudly.
“She’s right,” Caleb adds. “Daddy said it’s a ‘no rules’ day.”
Oh no.
That sounds exactly like something Jesse would say.
The twins run off again, presumably to wreak havoc in their new, honey-fueled forms, but I don’t get the chance to escape back into my observing corner.
Because the second they run, their father appears.
Jesse jogs toward me, brushing a hand through his too-long hair, which curls just slightly at the ends from the humidity. His shirt is rumpled, his cheeks flushed from chasing the twins, and one of his boots has a suspicious smear of frosting on it.
And still, he looks unfairly good.
Life really is unjust.
“You’re a lifesaver,” he says, stopping in front of me with a breathless grin that hits me low in the stomach.
“It’s no problem,” I say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“No, no. Don’t downplay it. Those two were about thirty seconds away from starting a small uprising.”
I laugh softly. “Honey sticks stop uprisings?”
He shrugs. “Yours do.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Well. I’m glad they help.”
“They help,” he repeats.
And suddenly the world feels warmer.
Jesse wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, glancing out over the crowd. “You, uh… you looked a little alone over here.”
“Oh.” My stomach pinches. “I’m okay.”
“I know. But it’s potluck law that nobody stands alone.”
“Is it?”
“Absolutely,” he says solemnly. “Punishable by having to eat Terry Johnson’s experimental chili.”
I smile. “That sounds intense.”
“You have no idea.”
He steps closer, just a little. Not enough to crowd me, but enough that I feel the space change.
Enough that I feelhim.
