If anyone’s blowing smoke, it’s me, suddenly feeling a little overheated and a bit steamy.
He’s too close. Then he moves away too soon. And I spin to face him. My heart saws against my ribs, like I’ve been triggered once again. Like he’ll walk away with tears in his eyes and indifference in his tone.
Instead, Cort offers me a tentative smile. “See you around, Bee.” He takes one step backward while still looking at me. Then another. And one more before he spins for the end of the aisle.
Then, to my surprise, he glances back one more time before rounding the shelves.
And I’m left wondering, how bad can a man really be if he’s shopping for his mother? If he can tease me about bee smokers? If he can still make me weak in the knees and my heart patter and give me a final glance.
Is that enough cause to give him a second chance?
12
[Vale]
Aweek later, Hudson asks if he can go to Atticus’s house for a sleepover. Personally, I’m not a fan of sleepovers unless it’s family. I love my girls’ nights with my three nieces—Zelle, Winnie, and June—and I look forward to the day I can have more nights with Adara and Annabelle.
As forwhenHudson asks, it’s funny how kids have this uncanny ability to ask for something in front of someone else making the situation awkward.
“Maybe Atticus could come to our house for a while?” I’d been looking forward to a quiet night at home, but the invitation will appease Hudson. Who looks at Atticus for approval.
“That’s cool. My dad has a date anyway.”
I’m quick to process this information which means no parent would have been present to watch the boys. Then another thought occurs.
“Did your dad have a babysitter lined up? What about Amelia?” I glance at Hudson whose cheeks turn pink. Atticus doesn’t notice, because his steely eyes are narrowed toward me.
“We aren’t babies, and we don’t need a sitter. She’ll be fine alone.”
I do not like his response, nor his tone or manner of delivery, and I really don’t care for this kid, but then again, his declaration sounds like something his father might have told him.
“Why doesn’t Amelia come over as well?”
The girl lingers a few feet away near a friend but her attention creeps over to us before darting back to the other girl. Does she reciprocate the crush on Hudson?
Atticus looks over his shoulder and his sister meets his glance like they are having a private conversation. A twin thing. Eventually, she gives the slightest shrug but offers a soft smile. Atticus turns back toward me.
“Sure. What’s for dinner?”
Demanding little shit. “Pizza.”
Two hours later, Atticus isn’t a fan of having to work for his pizza, as it is build-your-own style, but eventually, he gives in, and I see the child inside the tough eleven-year-old. In contrast, Amelia is sweet and gracious and had been willing to make her brother’s pizza before I intervened.
“If he wants to eat, he can make his own.”
“I do stuff like this at home,” she informs me.
“What do you mean?” I ask as I slide the four mini-pizza pies into the oven.
“I cook for my dad and my brother.”
Something tells me she cooks, not out of generosity, but because it’s demanded of her. I do not like the sound of that. Not all brothers look after their sisters like mine have, but I’d assumed with the twin thing, Atticus might have a bond with his sister and respect her.
“Well, tonight you cook for you. And then the boys clean up.”
“What?” Atticus grunts, horrified by the idea.
“Mom,” Hudson chides like I’m embarrassing him.
