Leah
“What are you doing here?” Chelsea squeals, taking one of the two wrapped gifts from my arms and pulling me into a hug.
“Are you kidding? I couldn't miss my sweet girls’ seventh birthday.”
“Well, they are going to be so excited to see you.” She waves for me to come inside. “Most of everyone is out back, and Julian is already grilling.”
“It smells wonderful.”
I follow her into the kitchen where several women are gathered around the island. I recognize a few of them as parents from Pinehurst.
“Can I do anything?”
“Yes.” Chelsea loops her arm through mine. “Have fun. But first…” She steers me toward the breakfast nook, where tropical party favors are spread across the table. “You need to get lei'd.”
I nearly choke on my own saliva. “Chelsea!” I giggle as my cheeks warm.
“Hey, you can’t say I never showed you a good time.” She laughs, plucking a bright flower lei from the table and slipping it over my head. “There. Perfect.” Her expression softens. “I'm really glad you came. But after yesterday at school … God, you looked miserable. I really wasn't expecting you.”
“I know.” I offer a sheepish grin. “I'm sorry I was such a buzzkill.”
“Oh, please. You weren't a buzzkill. You were in pain.” Her eyes drift to the hand on my lower hip. “Did you take something for your cramps today?”
I snort. “Yes, Mom.”
“I'm serious.” She gives me a knowing look. “You have a bad habit of taking care of everyone except yourself.”
My smile softens. “I'm okay. Really.” I pop a grape into my mouth. “But I love you … and I appreciate your concern.”
She kisses the side of my head. “I love you too, Sonrisa.”
I spear another grape and cheese cube with a toothpick before settling into a conversation about the best secondhand children's clothing stores. The discussion fades into background noise as my attention drifts through the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the backyard is a picture of pure joy.
Children dart across the grass, their delighted screams rising above the music drifting from oversized speakers.
A towering inflatable water slide that looks like a volcano on a tropical island dominates the back portion of the yard.
Kids race up the slick steps before slipping down and splashing into a shallow pool.
Closer to the house on the side of the patio, a handful of men linger around the grill, taking casual sips from their red plastic cups. They point and laugh amongst themselves, supervising the grillmaster as they occasionally watch the children.
The other side of the patio hosts the music and speaker along with a fold-out portable dance floor. My eyes land on a tall, familiar man in the middle of the space with perfectly coiffed hair.
Nick.
I've never seen him so casual in a crew-cut tee and shorts. Bent at the waist, he's pointing to Grady’s feet, patiently waiting for him to try and move to the beat of the music.
And dear Lord, have mercy … Nick's calves are huge.
And that butt—
Stop looking, Leah.
“He asked if you were coming.” Chelsea chuckles, handing me a cup of lemonade before sipping her own.
“What? Who?” I pretend that I wasn't just lusting after a student's parent.
She knows better and gives me a look. “Uh-huh. You know who. Your stalking runaway cowboy casanova ...” We giggle as she nudges me.
I swat her playfully. “Oh, I somehow doubt that—”
“He most certainly did,” she interrupts. “He asked if any other teachers were coming.”
I snort. “That is not asking if I was coming—”
“But you're his son's teacher. I don’t think he even knows any other teachers. I think that was just his way—”
“Oh, Chels …”
“Is he still there on Tuesdays when you get off?”
I suck in my bottom lip. It's been a few weeks since Nick admitted to coming up to the bar for the sole purpose of making sure I made it to my car safely. It's become something I look forward to every shift. I'm starting to wish he'd actually get out and walk me to my car.
Chelsea snorts. “I'll take that as a yes.”
I blush, quickly taking a sip. “But if he was interested, he'd do something … right?”
“You don't think he's making it clear?”
“I don't know. Maybe? He does all these incredibly sweet things, but then …” I shrug. “But to be fair, I think he's focusing his attention on Grady—which he should be.”
Chelsea nods. “Speaking of, I was dropping off some worksheets to Mrs. Koch during intervention block, and Grady was in there with her. Let me tell you … he was flying through his sight words.”
I beam, my gaze drifting back over to Nick, who's now demonstrating a dance to his son. “I'm so proud of how far he has come in such a short amount of time. You can tell someone's practicing with him."
“Ms. Harrison!”
Vera and Birdie Santiago rush into the kitchen, soaked from the slide and dripping all over the tile. They throw their arms around me, and I laugh, welcoming the cold, wet squeeze as I hug them back.
“There are my favorite birthday girls!”
Chelsea gasps. “?Ay, ninas! Están empapadas.” She waves them back outside.
Julian, Chelsea’s husband, steps inside, wearing an apron that says King of the Grill, Ruled by Women. “Querida, we're ready.” He turns to me, promptly wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Hey, sweetie! Good to see you!” He presses a chaste kiss to my head.
“Thanks for having me over.”
“You know you're family! Please make yourself at home.
We've got burgers and dogs ready on the grill.
If you brought your suit, there's an ER trip waiting for you in the backyard, running up my water bill.” Chelsea and I giggle as he continues.
“We even have some board games, if that's more your speed. Maybe some cards—”
“I wouldn't trust this one with a deck of cards.”
My pulse quickens at the handsome drawl. I turn around. “Mr. Crawford.”
“Ms. Harrison.” He smirks, his eyes roaming across my body as the noise dulls around the edges. A rush of warmth blooms in my belly—and I wince, the unfurling sensation swallowed suddenly by a sharp cramp.
“Hi, Ms. Harrison!” Grady's sweet voice filters through as he hugs my leg.
“Well, hey there, buddy.” I pat his back, holding him close. “Is that … a hot dog bun?”
He smiles proudly, holding it up.
Nick rubs his forehead, giving a bashful smile.
“Do you need me to get you a hot dog for your bun, little guy?” Julian offers.
Grady grimaces. “Don't call me little.”
Julian raises his hands in surrender. “Of course. My apologies, big guy.”
“I think we're going to stick with a bun for now. It's a meat-texture thing,” Nick explains, the rest of us nodding in understanding.
“That's okay, Grady,” Chelsea starts, “the bun is my favorite part.”
He smiles, retreating behind me, suddenly shy with all the attention.
“Let's eat, shall we?” Julian announces.
Oh my word …
Chelsea Santiago outdid herself. As always.
We fill our paper plates with burgers and hot dogs alongside handfuls of chips, creamy potato salad, fruit salad, and baked beans.
We scatter between the patio furniture and a circle of lawn chairs.
Most of the children inhale a few bites before racing back to the water slide, their squeals and laughter filling the backyard as the sun begins to set.
Sitting among the women, I do my best to stay engaged in the conversation, nodding along as they discuss cheerleading and homecoming festivities.
Yet every time I look up, I find a pair of moss green eyes already waiting for me, sending a quiet flutter through my chest before one of us inevitably looks away.
I wish I knew what he was looking at, what he truly saw in me.
I'm fairly ordinary. Plain. No boobs. I don't hate the way I look, but it's been a long time since a man looked at me like I was remotely interesting, and I can promise you that no man of Nick Crawford's caliber has ever given me a second glance.
I guess every woman has that fear—the one we've watched play out in a dozen romantic comedies—that somehow we're the butt of some cruel joke, that the stud made a bet. Or lost a bet. Or maybe he's simply bored and needs his ego stroked.
I know this isn't Nick.
But what is he waiting for?
After finishing my meal, I help Chelsea gather trash before she corrals everyone around the patio for presents and birthday cake. Birdie and Vera tear through their mountain of gifts with delighted squeals, proudly holding up each treasure for everyone to admire.
Once the wrapping paper is cleared away, Julian emerges from the house carrying a beautiful sheet cake adorned with colorful buttercream hibiscus flowers. The twins dissolve into giggles as we sing Happy Birthday, then lean in together to blow out the candles in one determined breath.
As Chelsea begins serving cake, I notice Grady lingering at the edge of the crowd. He reaches for Nick's hand and nods toward the dance floor. With a grin, Nick is led away.
Maybe that's what I should've done that night at the bar.
I lick a bit of frosting from my fork when a loud commotion erupts at the back door. Julian pulls a tall man with dark, wavy hair and glasses into a hug, punctuating it with a hearty slap on the back. The moment the man looks up, I gasp, a smile spreading across my face.
The emergency room physician.
Dr. Rams—something.
I stand, smoothing out my skirt before heading in that direction. He probably doesn't remember me, and I have no clue what to say to him—if anything—but I need to at least say hello to the man who saved my life.
“Jon,” Chelsea’s voice carries, “you need to meet Leah Harrison. This is Grady's kindergarten teacher.”
“And she works Tuesday nights at Low Places,” Julian adds, giving him a wink I don't quite understand.
When he turns to face me, there's a brief flicker of recognition in his piercing eyes. “Leah,” he murmurs, shaking my hand. “Jonathan Ramsdale. It's … really good to see you.”
“Likewise.” I smile.
“Where's baby girl?” Julian asks, grabbing Jonathan's attention again.
“On-call, unfortunately, so she put me in charge of bringing the presents.” He holds up two glittery gift bags.