Page 123 of One Night with Number Nineteen

I curse under my breath. “All right, peanut. Five more minutes and then I’ll put it away.”

“But I’m hungry now!”

I close my eyes, exhale. Then put my laptop aside.

Clearly this isn’t going to work right now.

“Well, hangry monster,” I say, “how about we get you a small snack, take care of the errands we need to take care of, then get Molly’s for dinner?”

“Molly’s!” he shouts, beelining for the house.

A begrudging smile on my face as I trail him.

My work isn’t going to get done until my little monster’s in bed.

Not the first time. Not the last.

There’s a knock on the door as we make it to the kitchen and I detour to answer it, smiling when I see Sawyer through the window. “I thought I gave you a key,” I say as I swing open the wooden panel.

He frowns and pats his pockets before pulling out a keyring. “Right,” he says with a chagrined smile. “I forgot.”

Lifting on tiptoe, I brush my lips over his. “You look tired.”

“Nah,” he says. “Or no more than normal, anyway. Coach kicked our ass in practice. Clearly, my brain got a workout too.”

“Here I thought you were all brawn and no brain,” I tease. “Come in. I’m making Ollie a snack.”

“Ants on a Log?”

“No. Today it’s peanut butter toast with bananas. Want some?”

He smiles. “That actually sounds really good.”

“It is good.” I load up the toaster and when I turn back, it’s to see he’s already retrieved the peanut butter and is slicing bananas.

Fuck, I love this man.

I freeze, every cell in my body going taut as I wait for the terror to grip me, for the panic to take hold, like it had the other day.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead…there’s a sort of peaceful calm.

Like my body and heart had accepted the truth of those words before my mind could.

“Can I have a slice of banana?” Ollie asks.

Sawyer ruffles his hair and passes him a chunk.

“Mom and I are gonna get suspenders,” he says around the piece.

“Yeah?”

I stifle a sigh. “Last minute addition to tomorrow’s concert, apparently.” Our gazes lock. “Found out today.”

He winces.

“Yeah,” I mutter as the toast pops up.