Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Grant
Sam opens the door with a wide smile, and before she can step back completely, Poppy runs straight past her.
“Thanks for inviting us.”
Lily’s voice is tiny, so I can tell she’s a touch shy still. It’s been a while since we’ve seen Sam one-on-one, but she’ll warm up quickly.
“I’ve got a new screen for you.” I pull out the wire screen. “Mind if I go ahead and get this in?”
Looking her directly in the eyes gives me a pleasant ache in my chest. There’s a feeling of expectation, too, like a pot on to simmer but eventually, it’ll all boil over and time will run out.
“That’s great.” She shifts her focus to Lily. “Do you want to go see Mr. Bingley?”
She nods, and Sam grins, then waves her forward. “Looks like Poppy found him in one of his favorite afternoon spots.”
I glance over to see Poppy in the bedroom half of the apartment curled around the cat, whose long dark fur fans in all directions.
He’s sprawled out on the floor and kneading the air in a patch of sunlight filtering in through one of the windows on the far side of the space.
Poppy is practically spooning him, whispering who knows what.
I can’t help the burst of pride at the way she’s staying calm and not even touching him yet.
Lily speaks softly, and Poppy is still whisper-chatting. Sam sits at the end of her bed and grins as she watches them fawn over her pet.
The look on her face carries so much fondness, it makes me wonder if she could ever—
I turn away, fully aware that thought is a bridge too far. We’re friends. I like her. But I don’t need to be mentally auditioning her for future parental roles.
It’s normal to think that way, I’ve been reassured.
The therapist I met with when I first moved back had promised me that worrying about whether someone I dated would fit with me and my kids made sense, and that a lack of thinking about such things would be far more concerning.
I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t know when that kind of thinking is too soon. Or is it ever?
My first responsibility is to the girls, and it always will be.
I may have faltered initially, but I won’t do that to them again, not ever.
Until I have a wife, should that day come, and then I am responsible to her, too.
For all the purpose I’ve felt lacking since leaving the military, I have ultimate clarity on that.
They are my rocks—the girls and the rest of my family are the foundation.
In less than three minutes, the new screen is installed.
I take my time inspecting it, making sure it’s sturdy and any feline explorers won’t easily dislodge it.
I’m being unnecessarily thorough, but I know no matter how long we stay, the girls will feel it’s not enough.
I also know I’m not ready to go, so why not give us a few more minutes?
“Window should be all set. Anything else I can help with?” I glance around, hoping to see something that requires my time and attention.
She gives her cat a stern look and says, “Be nice, Mr. Bingley,” before walking to me. It’s a small space and I’ve been in here a thousand times over the last few years. We visited May all the time. But having this woman move with purpose in my direction sends a pulse of awareness through me.
“Would you guys want to stay to watch a movie? I was just going to make some popcorn.” She gestures to her counter where, sure enough, a large bowl and a box of popcorn packets sit.
In an effort to seem slightly less eager than I am, I defer to the girls. “What do you think, girls? Do you want to stay and watch a movie?”
Poppy instantly cheers. “Yes! Yay!”
The cat bolts under Sam’s bed, and Poppy crawls over, undeterred by the relocation.
Lily’s watching Poppy, but then gives me a skeptical look. “What movie would it be?”
“I put all my DVDs in the cabinet the TV’s on. Go see if you can find something you like.” Sam points to the wooden hutch the TV sits on.
Lily looks perplexed, and I chuckle.
“Did I say something weird?”
I see the way she shrinks up. It’s subtle, but clear as day to me now that I’ve spent some time with her, and I don’t want her to go there.
One palm presses gently into her arm where it’s crossed over her other and tucked close to her body. “No, not at all. It’s just, they don’t really know what DVDs are. Everything’s streaming now.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks brighten, but she laughs with me. “I didn’t even think about that.”
With a shake of my head, I console her. “It’s a different world they’re growing up in. I try to enjoy the conveniences and not get overwhelmed by how much I don’t know about raising kids in this kind of techy world. I definitely can’t lean on my own experiences as a kid.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.” She glances at Lily to find her studying each DVD case, one by one.
“Remember when you’d go to a movie rental store and just browse movies? Part of it was about getting a movie, and part of it was the experience of wandering around and seeing what fit the mood.”
She grins. “I wish I’d appreciated it more. I still rent movies from the library sometimes, though. And I’m sorry I don’t have streaming.” Her face falls a bit. “I’m just trying to be smart.”
“You don’t have to apologize for anything. You’ve invited us into your home and you’re letting Poppy—Pops! Wait, no!”
My curious, nosy, no-boundaries little four-year-old is pulling a long plastic tub out from under the bed, snatching off the lid, and pulling out what is a brain-melting array of colorful bras and panties, looking at them sideways.
I’ve made it to Pops in seconds, but she’s still got bras and panties and larger swatches of silk that are probably little nightgowns strewn around her.
Good God.
“Daddy, what are these? They’re so pretty!” She marvels at a bright red bra with a small black bow between the cups. “It’s a rainbow!”
She’s not wrong. There’s something in every color and I am trying to be a gentleman instead of tallying up all the items in all the colors and all the ways I would like to be the one to enjoy.
“These aren’t for you, Pops. When we’re in someone’s home, we don’t open their things.” I’m shoving silk and lace back into the container as fast as she can pull them out. “You’ve invaded Miss Sam’s privacy, and you need to apologize.”
“I do? But I like this stuff. Why can’t I look at it?” She holds up a peachy-colored silk something and rests her head against it. “This is so soft.”
A pained sound emerges from me and I grab it from her and break out the dad voice. “Poppy, we have to stop touching Sam’s things. Please go help your sister pick a movie.”
Her bottom lip juts out, and I get the mean mug she has perfected since she was born. “Okay.” It’s more dejected than mad, though, and it’s only because she doesn’t understand.
I reaffix the lid to the box of wonders and slide it back under her bed. Then I stand and turn to find Sam with her hands covering her mouth and her face strawberry red.
“I am so sorry.” What else can I say? I don’t even know. Sorry my kid was a creep and snooped in your underbed totes, and sorry I ended up pawing through your lingerie collection and oh, by the way, if at some point you decide to give me a chance, I’m up for all of it?
“It’s…” Her head shakes like she can’t believe that just happened, and then her face breaks into a smile and she laughs. She throws her hands up and shrugs. “I mean, I guess that’s life with kids, huh?”
My god, I’m not sure I’ve ever appreciated a response like I do this one. “Actually, yes. Incredible embarrassment and deeply humbling moments punctuated with amazing joy, unexpected delights, crippling anxiety, endless surprise, and a not-small amount of snot.”
She laughs in a big burst, then covers her mouth again.
“Truly, I’m so sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever explicitly stated that we shouldn’t open things found under someone else’s bed. And when May lived here, she had a little closet thing she took with her where she kept all her clothes, so there wasn’t much underneath. I didn’t think about it.”
I dart a hand through my hair and hope she’s as nonchalant as she seems about all this.
“Don’t worry about it. I survived you putting them away, and if I did that, I think I can do anything.” She chuckles to herself.
“Yeah? Same.” She has no idea.
“We found one!” The girls yell this in unison in the way that always makes me wonder if they’ve rehearsed it before doing it. Lily waves the DVD case in the air, and this breaks the tension between me and Sam.
A few minutes later, we’re all crammed onto her little couch, Lily and Poppy on one end and, alarmingly, me and Sam sitting side by side, glued together from shoulder to hip to thigh to calf.
It is far from comfortable, but Poppy and Lily have managed to spread out so much that we’re genuinely struggling for space.
I don’t want to crowd her, or spook her, or do anything to make her uncomfortable. Especially after the lingerie explosion sponsored by Poppy’s boundless curiosity.
Ten minutes into the movie, I shift and pull the arm nearest her up and slide it across the back of the couch. I’m not making a move. I’m simply trying to figure out how to get us more space.
There’s no escaping our nearness. I can’t pretend I’m fully watching the movie when she’s so close, and I miss her when I’m not with her like some kind of lovesick idiot. Up close, I can see she has a freckle next to her earlobe, and underneath her ponytail, little hairs curl against her neck.
She moves, and an apology is on the tip of my tongue when her hand comes to rest on my thigh. For a few seconds, my brain short-circuits.
The needy old dog can only make a few connections. Hand. Thigh. Warm. Good. Like. More.
Pathetic.
She keeps her gaze forward, but I can see she’s breathing a bit heavier than she was. I don’t know what this means. Is it just a friend thing?
Do friends put a hand on their friend’s leg?
I don’t know. I’m realizing I’ve not had many female friends I’ve been close to.
It’s been men, or sisters, or women I dated.
Coworkers, sure. No women I wanted to date but who asked to be friends instead.
I am fully capable of respecting that, but now I’m wondering if maybe I didn’t realize what that entailed.
And maybe I’m not capable of any of this.
It would not be the first time I am ill-equipped to deal with reality.
But then she turns to look at me, her dark eyes catching mine and holding like they always seem to do. And the look she gives me is something I can’t quite read—it’s shy, but hopeful?
It’s a slight smile. Not beaming, not unleashed like when we laughed together minutes ago. But it’s peaceful. Relaxed. I could swear it’s almost pleased.
My body overrides the rampant self-doubt and I cover that hand with mine, sliding our fingers together and savoring the little shiver that rocks through her. We’re still locked in on one another, so I see the way her mouth opens and her eyes shut for a moment when I slide my thumb along her wrist.
I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I’m certain it’s going to change things between us one way or another.