Chapter Twenty-five
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 as home.
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 brunette and her red-headed daughter. And apparently it’s written all over me.
“You have 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 that makes 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 they think they’re in love. But they’re young. Most young people mistake attraction for love.” She scoffs and saddens. “Some adults, too.”
I really want to dig deeper into that last bit. Has she never truly been in love?
I’m not exactly one to talk. At seventeen, I thought I was in love with Denise.
Little did I know I had zero clue about what love really was.
Until the day Christian was born. It never even occurred to me why I didn’t feel connected to Denise the way I felt connected to my son.
Not for over a decade. Until last week, that is.
But this woman sitting to my right, pumping her legs to make herself go higher, her long hair flying wildly in the breeze, her eyes closed like she’s a child enjoying her very first ride…
this woman has somehow brought that feeling back.
The feeling I got in the delivery room when Christian was first handed to me.
The feeling that I’d literally lay down my life to protect his… and now hers.
Her eyes open and she comes to a halt, looking over the horizon. “I think it’s going to be an amazing sunset.”
I hop off my swing. “Wait here. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
She seems confused. “Seriously? You have to go to the bathroom? Now?”
“Just wait here. Don’t go anywhere.”
I turn and race off across the wintery brown grass, then across the street, and down McQuaid Circle. Entering Gigi’s Flower Shop, I quickly pull the nearest bundle of roses out of a bucket and take them to the register.
Maddie Calloway looks up. “You seem in an awful hurry.”
“I am.”
She wraps the roses with florist paper and rings me up, and I’m out the door within minutes and darting back to the park.
Out of breath and pleased I haven’t missed the best part of the sunset—when the sun is down and a myriad of colors grace the horizon—I walk around the front of the swings and hold out the flowers. “Beautiful flowers on a beautiful night for a beautiful woman.”
Kenna’s hand sprawls across her chest and she sighs.
Then she chuckles. “I really thought you just had to pee.” She takes the bundle from me.
“They’re amazing. Thank you.” She brings them to her nose and inhales.
“I’ve never gotten flowers before. I mean, once in the hospital after having Amelia, a girlfriend brought me some.
But never from a man.” Her gaze lowers. “Gosh that makes me sound pathetic, doesn’t it? ”
“Not at all. It only proves you hadn’t met the right man.”
Our gazes collide and we look deep into each other’s eyes as I try to exude every single feeling I’m having.
A dog barks, and Kenna looks away, ending the delicate, emotional, almost spiritual moment.
Colors spread up from the horizon. Red, orange, brown. I even see a hint of purple. Kenna was right. It is amazing. But the most amazing part of it is being here with her.
We sit in silence, both of us gliding gently back and forth as we take it all in.
Ten minutes later, the colors dissipate, leaving only the glow of dusk in their wake.
Kenna turns to me. “Well, that’s that.”
A horrific premonition flashes through my head of her saying the exact same thing as she drives away from my house. This town. Me.
Shaking it off—I refuse to let the time I have with her tonight get derailed by tomorrow—I stand from the swing and hold a hand out to her. “Shall we?”
She looks down at the flowers. I really hadn’t thought this through. She’s probably wondering if I’m expecting her to carry them around all night. Because it’s not exactly practical.
“Here,” I say, reaching for them. “We’ll leave them on that bench over there and get them on the way home.”
“But what if someone takes them?”
“If they do, I really hope it brightens their day.”
She smiles as if that pleases her. And I could swear I hear her mumble, “Stop it.”
Putting the flowers down, I ask, “Where to next?”
She shrugs. “It’s your town. What do you suggest?”
I know I’d mentioned a movie. And while sitting for two hours holding her hand does have some appeal, it means we couldn’t talk. I wouldn’t be able to see her face. Burn the sound of her voice and her beautiful image into my memory.
“I thought we’d do a casual dinner at Donovan’s. But first, how about bowling a game with me?”
“Bowling?” She’s curious as well as amused. “I’ve never been.”
“Well, now we have to go.”
“Sounds fun. Lead the way.”
Turning away from the bench, something amazing happens. She holds out her hand. The jubilant feeling coursing through me tells me she might just be enjoying this date as much as I am. I thread my fingers through hers and hold my head high as we begin our trek through town.