Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
ELLY
Confession: I’m not a fan of kid birthday parties.
Maybe I’m a monster, but there’s usually way too much screaming and not nearly enough shade, water, or places to escape from the screaming.
But the Gator Farm birthday celebration is proving a delightful exception to the rule. The weather is gorgeous, the party is small and not the slightest bit screamy, and Mimi is having a blast.
I swear, watching your kiddo find her people is like watching the houseplant you’ve nearly killed finally get the right amount of sun and water. Not that I’ve ever almost killed Mimi. Obviously.
But I have been worried…
Worried that the combination of her intelligence, niche interests, and her disability would keep her on the outside looking in. Worried that the kids who left her out of the fun in pre-school would move on to actively bullying her in elementary.
But today…
Well, today, the sun is shining and so is she.
The girls had a fantastic time during the farm tour, got to hold baby gators, and are now deep in dessert and discussion at a kid-sized table in the party pavilion.
Ruby and Sage are sweet, creative kids who don’t think it’s odd that Mimi’s been making up stories about the alligators all morning and is currently leading the debate on alligator intelligence.
“They’re really good hunters and grow up all by themselves, without a mommy or daddy to teach them,” Mimi insists, gesticulating with her icing-coated fork. “That’s pretty smart.”
“My dad says animals have instincts, not smarts,” Sage counters, adjusting her tiny round glasses.
“But dogs are animals, and some dogs are dumb and some are smart,” Ruby adds in her adorable lisp.
“So maybe that means animals are just like people. Some are smart and some are not very smart.” She wrinkles her nose before adding, “But probably more are not very smart because that’s how things are. ”
I bite back a laugh from my spot at the parents’ table, where I’m nursing my third juice box. Apple, because we ran out of fruit punch, and sadly, none of us thought to sneak iced coffees into the cooler.
“Wise beyond her years, that little bug of mine,” Chelsea murmurs, casting a wry smile Ruby’s way. “Poor thing. She’s going to spend her life growing progressively disappointed in the human race. It’s all downhill from kindergarten.”
“Oh, stop,” Miranda says with a laugh. “She’ll just be… realistic about the human race. Realistic is a good thing.”
“I agree.” I nod. “Realism, tempered with optimism. That’s what I’m going for, anyway. I figure it’s better to be honest with Mimi about how hard being a human is sometimes than for the hard stuff to come as a complete surprise.”
“Wise.” Chelsea nods. “I wish my parents had that attitude. I still haven’t forgiven my daddy for saying I could grow up to be anything I wanted, only to find out after five years of Peewee football that I actually couldn’t become a kicker in the NFL.”
“And your legs are incredible,” Miranda agrees. “You had potential, kid. Sorry you didn’t get to kick balls for a living.”
“Well, thank you.” Chelsea laughs as she tosses her long blond hair over her shoulder.
“But it’s probably for the best. There are only two guys in our office right now, and I want to throat punch them at least once a week.
If I were surrounded by men, I’d probably be in jail by now.
The older I get, the more the male of the species brings out my stabby side. ”
“That’s because you’re pregnant,” Miranda says, pointing to Chelsea’s cute baby bump. “I wanted to stab everyone when I was pregnant.”
“Same,” I agree. “But I thought that was just the rampaging teen hormones. Good to know I wasn’t alone.”
They both laugh, warm, accepting laughs that confirm we’re moving past the “it’s weird that Elly had her baby when she was practically a fetus” phase of the mom-friendship zone.
Maybe we’ll become real friends, after all. Our quirky babies certainly have a lot in common. It makes sense that we would, too.
There was a time when I worried that Mimi’s circle of friends was small and danced to the beat of their own drum.
But watching her now, laughing and talking a mile a minute, I realize this is better.
It’s not about having all the friends. It’s about having the right ones, who see what a treasure you are and can’t wait to spend time with you.
The thought makes my mind drift to Grammercy…
Everything is so different with him. Before, even with guys who seemed cool with me having a child, Mimi changed the way they related to me.
I was never just Elly, a woman they were attracted to and wanted to know better.
I was Elly, the single mother, Elly with “baggage,” who forced them to plan in advance and think about babysitters and things most men in their early twenties aren’t ready for.
But with Grammercy, I’m just Elly, a woman he finds fascinating, who happens to be the mother of a little girl, who he also thinks is great. He sees us both and cares for us both, separately and together.
I don’t think I realized how important that “separate” part was until he made me feel like a main character for the first time in so long. But now…I love him for letting me just be me.
And yes, I dropped the “L” word again.
Only in my head, but still…
Must get a grip! It’s too soon to be in love, no matter how incredible the sex is.
But it is incredible. Holy hell, is it incredible.
I’m already counting the minutes until Mimi’s bedtime tonight, when we can be alone again…
“Anyone else craving something more caffeinated than juice?” Chelsea asks, fanning herself with a paper plate. “I know I’m only supposed to have one small iced coffee a day, but… ”
She trails off mid-sentence, her juice box halfway to her lips.
Miranda follows her gaze, her jaw going slack and her eyes comically wide. And then suddenly both of them are doing that sitting-up-straighter, perky expression thing that means a cute boy has entered the chat. The breeze shifts direction, and I instantly know who that cute boy is.
I know before I turn around. It’s like my body recognizes his vibration, his scent. Some primitive part of me is locked on Grammercy Graves.
I turn and, sure enough, there’s my man.
God, how is it possible that he’s mine?
He’s so… him .
Even in worn-in jeans and a faded navy T-shirt that hugs his strong arms, he’s extraordinary, and it’s more than the handsome face or killer body.
It’s the way he holds himself, with that mixture of confidence and awareness of the world around him and the way he wants to show up in it.
It’s in his eyes, those kind, clever, always-ready-for-a-laugh eyes that are becoming my favorite.
Only, they’re not looking very amused right now…
Not amused at all.
As our eyes meet, he winces and nods to his left, toward the parking lot where he must have just pulled in.
I can’t believe I didn’t notice. It’s not like there’s been much traffic at the gator farm today.
Aside from a family from St. Louis and a high school biology class on a weekend field trip, we’ve been alone with the zookeepers and reptiles.
“Excuse me,” I murmur, pushing my chair back. “I think someone needs to talk to me. ”
“And who is this someone ?” Miranda asks, not even trying to sound casual. Her voice has that high, curious pitch that means she’s planning to pump me for information as soon as I return to the table. “Because he is fine , woman.”
“With a capital F,” Chelsea murmurs, still gaping. “Look at his forearms. I didn’t know they made them like that in real life.”
“That’s my roommate?” The words sound way too much like a question, prompting a sharply raised brow from Miranda.
“I mean, he is,” I maintain, backing away with heat creeping up my neck.
I roll my eyes in a silent confession of “yes, there’s more to tell, but I have to go see what this fine ass man wants, be right back,” and motion toward the kids.
“Would you mind keeping an eye on Mimi for a second?”
“Of course,” Chelsea murmurs, continuing to study Grammercy like the last chunk of meat in the gator pen at feeding time. Maybe pregnancy makes her things other than cranky? “No rush.”
I spin and speed-walk out of the pavilion, headed for the very hunky, very worried-looking man ducking behind the wooden fence shielding the park from the road.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask as I reach his side.
“Hey, darlin’,” he drawls, the regret in his tone, his eyes, sending a wave of anxiety through my nervous system. “Sorry to crash the party. I tried texting and calling, but?—”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” My hand flies to my temple, then to my back pocket, where my phone has been weirdly quiet this afternoon.
“I think my phone’s still on silent from last night.
I was about to turn it on, but at the last minute, Mimi decided she wanted to wear green to match the gators, instead of pink.
And then we were scrambling to glue glitter on Sage’s card and?—”
“Don’t apologize,” he cuts in, resting a soothing hand on my arm. “It’s fine. My phone was still off, too. We were kind of busy last night. And this morning, so…”
“We were,” I murmur, biting my lip.
It doesn’t feel like the time to smile, but it’s hard to think about last night—or this morning—without smiling.
But Grammercy still isn’t smiling. He’s looking at me like he thinks I’m adorable, though, which is nice and comforting, but the worry in his gaze makes me afraid something’s wrong.
And if there’s nothing wrong between us , then…
“Is it your mom?” I ask, my pulse picking up. “Is she okay? Did something happen?”
“You could say that,” he mutters, hurrying to add when I make a worried sound, “but she’s fine. Mom’s not too happy with me right now, but she’s fine.”
I frown. “What? Why? What did you do?”