Carter
“Are you positive you’re okay with this?” Kenna asks Allie.
Allie waves her arm around, motioning to Asher, Bug, and Christian. “All the troops are here. We’ll be fine, you go have fun.”
Amelia is already on the floor, making a bigger mess of the giant plastic building blocks than the two toddlers are.
“I won’t be late.” Kenna glances at me. “Home by nine?”
Home. Man, I love it when she refers to my house ashome.
I shrug and nod, knowing we may be ‘home’ by then, but the date will absolutely not be over. If this is our last night together, I’m certain she’ll be spending at least part of it in my bed. And we definitely won’t be sleeping.
Anticipation gives way to sadness at the thought of never seeing her again. After I drove her fixed and like-new car home from work earlier today, I helped her load a few boxes into the back. I spent the entire day at work secretly hoping she would change her mind. That after all the nights we’ve spent together this week, she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to leave. But when I pulled into the driveway, opened the garage, and saw two boxes stacked off to one side, I knew she’d made her decision. And the numbers on the countdown clock in my head turned bright red.
I try not to think about tomorrow as I watch Kenna lean down and peck a kiss on Amelia’s head. As Kenna moves away, I ruffle her daughter’s red hair. “Have fun, pumpkin.”
Allie is watching me like a hawk, eyes wide like dinner plates.
Yeah, I think to myself.I’ve got it bad. For both the gorgeous brunetteandher red-headed daughter. And apparently it’s written all over me.
“Youhave fun,” Allie says, winking at me.
Thankfully, it’s a nice day. Though the sun is low in the sky, it’s still in the fifties, a far cry from the nor’easter ravaging Massachusetts, Vermont, and New Hampshire. Part of me is upset that the storm is going to miss us. Kenna wouldn’t dare drive in a snowstorm again. It’s what got her in this predicament in the first place. But the other part of me is glad we can walk to town. Driving is so much less personal. And not nearly as romantic. I guess I’m channeling my inner Trevor as my friend’s voice rolls through my head telling me to do ‘romantic shit.’
That gives me an idea for later. For right now, once we’re clear of the driveway and walking down the street, I take her hand in mine. She lets me, and it has me wanting to pump my fist.
But I really want to know what she’s thinking. Maybe that since it’s our last night together, she’s going to let whatever happens happen? I can only hope so. And in the far reaches of my mind, I’m praying that what happens somehow convinces her to stay.
“Pick your poison,” I say when we come to the intersection. “What do you feel like doing?”
“Honestly?” She glances at the park across the street. “I kind of want to go sit on the swings and watch the sun go down.”
Invisible hands grip my heart, because goddamn if that isn’t the definition of ‘romantic shit.’
The park is mostly empty. There are a few stragglers corralling their kids. A man walking his dog. A couple running out of one of the trails that line the creek.
That couple turns out to be my cousin Hawk and his wife Addy. Addy has a fancy running prosthetic on her leg thatmakes her look truly bionic. I contemplate waving them over and introducing them to Kenna, but I don’t. If I only have her tonight, I want her all to myself.
We park ourselves on the swings and a heavy bout of nostalgia hits me. I can’t remember the last time I was on a swing, but memories of pushing Christian on one flash in my head. It makes me smile.
“You have a great smile,” Kenna says.
I’m surprised she’s looking at me and not the setting sun. “Right back at you.” I push off and begin swinging. “I was just thinking of when I’d bring Christian here. It’s sad that he’s too old for it now.”
She cocks a brow. “Are you sure about that?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Mmm. Well then I guess I shouldn’t tell you how I saw him and Bug sitting on these very swings, looking all googly-eyed at each other, just a few days ago.”
I plant a foot and stop myself. “Here? Seriously?”
“They’re young and in love, Carter. Accept it.”
“Love?” My jaw goes slack. “You think they’re in love?”
She shrugs. “I think theythinkthey’re in love. But they’re young. Most young people mistake attraction for love.” She scoffs and saddens. “Some adults, too.”
