“Oh, it is. And may I point out that this little dress breaks a lot more rules than greasy coveralls and a T-shirt.” I glance down and from this angle, maybe he’s right. He leans in, just inches in front of my face. “But if you won’t play fair, then neither will I.”
He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear and lets his finger trace down my neck. Then with a smirk, he’s gone, leaving my heart pounding and my eyes fluttering. I should call out to him.Tell him we can’t tiptoe this line, but God if there’s ever been a challenge or something to prove, I’ve never been one to walk away.
13
For once, Winnie is awake before me and is now sitting on the end of my bed like a golden retriever, staring at me until I wake.
“Winnie,” I groan and look at the time on my phone. “It’s early.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispers, as if she’s worried about waking someone up.
I roll over and see her eager little smile. “You got dressed already?”
She nods and stands on my bed wiggling about in her shorts and one of Paul’s old T-shirts she usually sleeps in. “They said to wear clothes you can move in.”
“Perfect choice.”
“What are you going to do all day while I’m at camp?” She crashes back down.
I'm not surprised by the little lump in my throat. She’s ready for her next big adventure and I have been putting it out of my mind with the small hope she would want to quit, but here we are and she’s ready to go.
I pull her against me making her giggle. “I’ll go help AuntLaurey.”
“With what?”
“Whatever she needs. She’s got a lot going on right now.”
“With the baby?”
“Yes. And the wedding. And her work.”
“Mommy?”
“Yeah bug?” I kiss the top of her head.
“Are you ever going to have a baby again?”
She’s made comments in passing about wanting a brother or sister, but never this direct. Honestly, I have never allowed myself to be direct and honest with my own heart about the idea. Being a mom is my very favorite thing I do. Caring for Lauren growing up, raising Winnie now, and the idea of not having any more is almost as scary as the looming fear that I will get hurt again.
“What do you think?” I ask her and I feel her little shoulders shrug.
“I guess you need to get married first. Maybe you could marry Tan.”
I rear my head back to look down at this child, who is simply tracing my fingers that lay across her belly.
“Where did you get that idea?”
“He’s like Grampy.” She runs her fingers along my nails.
“Like Grampy?”
“He’s nice and funny like Grampy. And Tan carries things for you and he says you’re pretty.”
“When did he say I was pretty?” My heart lurches in my chest and I wonder if she can feel it.
“When he brought in the groceries. He was waiting for you at the top of the steps, talking to his friends.”
“I think,” I kiss her head one more time, pretending like I didn’t feel the whoosh of butterfly wings deep in my chest, “it’s time for us to get ready and get you to camp.”
