The pang in my heart grows stronger. “I do. I’ve taken to sleeping with a picture of them under my pillow. Isn’t that pathetic?”
“I think it’s sweet,” Preston says. “But not as good as the real thing.”
I open my mouth to agree, and then I hear the door to the restaurant open behind me, and before I even turn, my whole body floods with joy, because I know.
“Mommy!” I hear in that next second, and oh my god, there are my babies, both of them. Rosie is running toward me in another of her little princess dresses, her arms outstretched, andThea right behind, a huge smile lighting up her face.They’re right there, hugging me, and I feel tears tracking down my cheeks as I hug them both back, all three of us together. “Oh, I missed you so much,” I say, and then pull back to repeat it again while signing. “Every single day.”
“Me too,”Thea signs, while an interpreter I didn’t even notice was there translates.ThenThea’s lips twist up wryly. “Maybe not every day. Grandma did let us have extra dessert.”
I laugh with a little sob. “I bet,” I sign back.
Then I pull them into a hug again, and looking past them, I see Nate standing by the door, grinning at me. My heart swells even more.
I want to sign “Thank you” to him, but the cameras are all pointed directly at me, and I don’t want to make anyone suspicious. I’m supposed to be giving credit for this date to Preston, after all, though I doubt he did any of the actual planning.
“Are you the prince?” Rosie asks, wiggling out of my arms and looking up at Preston. “But not a real prince.”
Preston laughs. “No, not a real prince. My name is Preston. And you’re Rosie, right? And you . . . areThea.”
It was only the slightest pause there, and maybe no one else would catch it, but I recognize it well. It’s that little mental hiccup most people have when they first meetThea, where it occurs to them that they’re talking toThea but she can’t hear them. It’s something that happens even when she has an interpreter signing for her.This tiny pause is usually followed by an uncomfortable shift, or, in Preston’s case, a squint of the eyes, like he’s trying to figure out how this works.
I don’t blame people for this instinctive reaction, but it still makes me wince inwardly every time, because I knowThea notices it, too.That immediately she’s categorized as “other.” Someone who needs to be treated differently.
I don’t remember seeing that reaction from Nate.
Thea smiles back at him, though it’s a little stiff. “Yes, I am,” she signs. “It’s nice to meet you.” Very polite. Which is good, even if she seems stilted.
“You too,” Preston says. “Should we all sit down and eat? We have some great food your mom made.” I notice that he says this mostly to Rosie.
“Preston helped too,” I add.
He chuckles. “Don’t worry, girls, you won’t have to eat any of the ones I cooked. In fact, we made some of these dumplings without spinach, just for you two.”
Ha, that’s right. I should have caught on then.
Rosie cheers. “Spinach looks like long boogers!” she announces proudly.
Thea raises her eyebrow at Preston. “I love spinach.”
I raise my eyebrow back as the interpreter translates, because I happen to know she only tolerates spinach.
Sadly, we have to say goodbye to Jonas, but while I’ve been greeting my children, the production team has swept in and taken the food out to the dining area, so that when we leave the kitchen, we’re presented with a table that’s all set for us, with our plates and glasses of wine and an old porcelain soup tureen filled with daisies.
“This is so incredible,” I breathe, taking in the table, the surroundings. We have this quaint, charming little restaurant all to ourselves. With its mis-matched, well-loved tables and chairs and the character in every decorative piece—items that might be found in the house of a German grandma—it feels so much like what I’ve dreamed of for my restaurant.Though not the stuffed deer head above the fireplace.
“I knew you’d love it,” Preston says, pulling out my chair. “And you haven’t even tried our dumplings yet.”
He pulls out the chair next to him for Rosie, who climbs in eagerly, looking wide-eyed at the beautiful table setting.Thea plops herself into a seat, picking out the most green-dotted dumpling and plopping it onto her plate like she’s proving a point.
We all begin to eat.The dumplings are perfection, and I have to hold in an orgasmic groan at the first bite. Rosie barely touches her non-spinach dumplings, bouncing in her seat and brimming with questions for Preston. Does he live in a castle? Does he have a horse? If he had a horse, what would its name be? Would it be named Freckles? Would the horse be a boy or a girl?
He manages to answer very seriously, but looks a little relieved when I tell her she needs to eat a few bites, mainly so the rest of us can eat without being peppered with questions. I can’t wait to tell her all about getting to ride a horse for that polo date, but for right now, I want more dumplings.
Thea is eating her spinach dumplings—atPreston, I think—and staying oddly quiet. She’s clearly not enthused about all of this, which I both understand and don’t. On the one hand, I imagined she’d be a little judgmental of someone I’m dating. On the other, she wanted me to start dating again.
That must be a lot of conflicting feelings for a ten-year-old to process.
Thea takes a long drink of her apple juice, then finally starts talking. “What do you like about my mom?” she signs directly at Preston, who seems more comfortable watching the interpreter as he translates.
