Atlas was handsome in a power suit, but in casual attire, he was on a whole nother level.
I set the car in park and popped the trunk with a snap of my fingers. As he got out the stroller, I opened my car door, tugging down my mustard chunky-knit sweater over my high-waisted jeans. I’d thrown on a nursing tank beneath it, figuring it would make things easier if Aspen got hungry.
“I went ahead and grabbed tickets and some caramel apple ciders,” he said, opening the side door where Aspen slept soundly.
Of course he passed out on the drive over here.
Atlas unbuckled the car seat, pulling him out of it to nestle Aspen against his shoulder. My heart ached at the sight, thudding all-too-loudly in my chest. Then he grabbed one of the cardboard cups off the stroller tray and handed it to me. “Figured we’d start off with the wagon ride and take Aspen through the little hay maze, then grab a few pumpkins that he can decorate at the station over there.”
He pointed to a covered section where children were sitting at long benches, painting their pumpkins with fat brushes and tiny fingers.
“Wow.” I got the stroller ready, then Atlas situated Aspen in it so he could still sleep while we walked around. “You have it all planned out, don’t you?”
“You know me,” he said with a shrug before sipping his cider.
I sighed. “Always a planner.”
His eyes shot down to our son, whose head was slumped to the side as his leg and hand jerked a moment. “Of course, I didn’t take into account someone’s sleep schedule.”
“He should be up soon. He won’t want to miss out on all the fun.” I brought the cup up to my nose, inhaling the rich scent of cinnamon, caramel, and nutmeg. It was divine. If I just kept my focus on this delicious fall staple, maybe my heart rate would come down to a manageable level.
“Also, I already put in a pickup order for apple pies so we can grab them on the way out. Didn’t want them to run out before we left. I know how much you love them,” Atlas added, beaming at me.
My mouth watered. Apple pie was my all-time favorite fall treat. My chest pinched with a tinge of bittersweet nostalgia, but I returned the smile. “Thank you.”
Wrapping his hands around the stroller bar, he guided it toward the entrance of the pumpkin patch. “Thanks again for agreeing to do this.”
“Aspen should enjoy his first Hallowed season with both of us.” We passed beneath the pumpkin arch towering on either side of us, bales of hay lining the path toward the open area where a bunch of long picnic tables sat and trails jutted out in different directions toward the various stations and activities.
I sensed Atlas drinking me in while I looked around, Desire stirring deep in my belly.
“As co-parents, of course,” I reiterated for the both of us.
Why did this witch have to be so Goddess-damned perfect?
He cleared his throat and nodded, smile faltering. “Of course.”
I sipped my cider, trying to break up the silence billowing between us like a thick cloud of smoke. “Mmm. This apple cider is great. Not as good as Phil’s, though.”
“Never as good as Phil’s,” Atlas agreed, grin returning to his face. As we strolled, a few people seemed to notice him, a telltale way to spot who was from the magical community. Not many supernaturals went to the pumpkin patch—they were more of a mortal tradition—but I always loved going to the ones outside of Salem. Phil’s Pumpkin Patch was where I had met Atlas.
Had that been the driving force of him suggesting we come here together? I’d planned to bring Aspen before I knew his father would be moving to Celestial Haven, but it only made sense to take him together now. Besides, it felt wrong to deprive Atlas of these festive memories with his son, even if I had to constantly remind myself not to let my guard down when he was around.
“Remember the time it started pouring, so we hid in the refreshment booth and drank cider for hours while everyone else went back home?”
I looked over at the hay wagon trotting down the path toward the hay and corn mazes in the distance, a smile playing at my lips. “How could I forget?”
We’d jumped onto the wagon that afternoon, the rain pelting down on us in frigid streaks, but we didn’t care. Atlas illusioned us some privacy from the driver he’d tipped handsomely ahead of time, before hiking up my dress so I could ride him, the ground vibrating beneath us. When we’d made the full loop much too quickly, he’d fished out some extra money from his partially pulled down jeans and handed it up to the driver before flipping me over and taking me from behind.
We had been so wild. Carefree.
I clenched my thighs, Desire threading my veins until it burned at my fingertips, ready for a reenactment.
Nope, nope, nope. Don’t even go there, Oakley. Bad witch.
Could I hire someone to spray me with a water bottle every time my ex got my Desire unnecessarily riled up?
“What about the time I snuck bourbon in my purse to add to the apple cider?” I added, trying to change the direction of memory lane.
