Chapter 30 #3
Max isn’t the only one waving at family members.
The whole class is doing it, which, admittedly, makes everyone in the audience laugh, especially at the kid who shouts, “Look at me, I’m singing.
” Celeste and Story work on getting the class settled, but once the background music begins, their shoulders straighten, and they stand still and quiet.
“You should try that in the mornings before school,” mutters Miles.
What follows is a fifteen-minute demonstration of cuteness.
The first song is “LOVE” by Nat King Cole, which has all the children running around and spelling the word every time it’s sung, which is highly amusing.
The performance is peppered with loud sighs and awws.
It’s kitschy and adorable, especially when two of them appear on stage with a large basket and throw love hearts into the crowd.
For someone who complained about it every time the concert was brought up, Max is remarkably enthusiastic. We’re close enough that I can hear his loud, tuneless singing, and my favorite part is him waving at us every time a song ends.
By the time it finishes, my cheeks ache from smiling. The cheer and applause from the audience is loud enough to be heard over at Foxleigh Park, and it doesn’t stop until each child races off the stage into the arms of proud family members.
Max runs straight into my mother, who makes a huge fuss over how delighted she is. But predictably, Max immediately asks, “Can we go see Honey now?”
Scooping him up into my arms, I plant a big kiss on his cheek. “You were brilliant, Maxy.”
“I know, but can we go and see Honey?”
I nod and spot Story walking over. “Yes, and Miss MacIntosh is coming too.”
“Let’s go, then.”
Turning to the rest of my family, I tell them where we’re going and grab Story’s hand before my son tugs me away.
The puppies are there. Five meters out, Max recognizes the shelter manager, lets go of my hand, and runs straight up to him.
“Is Honey here?”
“Max has been talking about her all week,” I add, reaching the desk behind the booth where the rescue is set up.
“What a coincidence.” She peers at Max. “Because Honey has been talking about you too.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Max as excited as he is right now, watching the manager step into the rescue bus and reappear with tiny Honey. Max trembles as he takes her in his arms, allowing her to lick his face as he cuddles her.
“She remembers me,” he says in a quiet voice that almost breaks me. If I wasn’t already planning to take Honey home with us, that would have sealed the deal. “Please let me keep her. Pleeeease.”
But he’s five, and I can’t be seen to be a complete pushover. “Maxy, you know how much care and love she needs?”
“I know, Daddy,” he replies solemnly.
“She needs feeding and walks—”
“Dolly, Maud, and Hamish will show her. She can join them.”
“And she can’t sleep in your room. She has to sleep in her own bed.”
“Stop being such a hard-arse,” mumbles Story, reaching out to stroke Honey’s silky ears.
Ignoring her, I hide the smile at my flash forward to the future where she’s the pushover to our children, and turn to the manager, “I’ll sign the paperwork.”
Max looks at me, and I should truly be given a medal for any time I say no to him. “She’s mine?”
I nod and bend down to stroke her. She’s already fallen asleep in the comfort of Max’s arms. “Welcome home, Honey Burlington.”
I sign, and we’re given a booklet of instructions and a little blanket.
“Can we go now? I want to show Honey her new home.”
“We can, but after one more stop.” I grin, holding my hand out for Story. “Maxy, do you want me to carry Honey through the crowd?”
He shakes his head and yawns wide. “Can you carry me while I carry Honey?”
“I think I can manage that,” I say, lifting him carefully into my arms. Honey doesn’t even stir.
“Where are we going?”
“The car.”
Max is occupied with watching Honey, but next to me, I can tell Story is wondering about the destination. She doesn’t say a word as we reach the Defender parked outside Miles’s and get in. Only when we turn left at the end of the road, instead of right, and head up the hill does she turn to me.
“Hen, where are we going?”
Glancing in the rearview mirror, I see Max is totally focused on Honey and use the opportunity to lift Story’s hand to my lips. “I wanted to show Max my favorite place with my favorite people.”
The farm gate has been purposely left open for me, and I drive straight into the field. It’s bumpy and steep, but the car is heavy and powerful enough that we barely jostle, and when we reach the top, Story’s jaw drops.
A blanket is laid out on the flat ledge of the hill, with hot chocolate waiting for us in big Yeti flasks.
Max looks up from Honey and out the window. “Where are we?”
“We’re in the field above Honeysuckle Lane.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to show you something. Unbuckle, and we can get out.”
“Can Honey come?” he asks, a question I predict I’ll get a dozen times a day.
“Of course. Keep her on the lead, though.” I peer at Story, who still hasn’t said anything. “Come on, let’s go.”
I jump out and open the door for Max, helping him to step out carefully. He takes one glance at the picnic blanket and ignores it to play with Honey.
“How did you do this?” Story asks quietly.
“James organized it for me. I told him what time we’d be here.” I drop down on the blanket and pat the space. “Join me.”
Twisting off the cap from the hot chocolate, I pour out a mug for her. She takes it and joins me while I pour out another. “I haven’t been here since the last time we were here together.”
“Me either,” she replies.
We sip, quietly watching Max run around with Honey. A million thoughts run through my brain, most of which have to do with the girl next to me, who I’ve known forever. I watch her watching Max, her face expressionless, and for the first time, I can’t read it.
“Still with me, Stor? Because this is my life. Hot chocolate, a five-year-old, and a puppy.”
Her gaze sweeps around the space, the hill, our hill, and finally lands back on me. “I’ve always been with you, Hendricks. Even when you haven’t realized. I don’t want a life of anything else.”
The weight of her stare hits me. The weight of her love warms me from the inside out, and I know now that this moment right here is worth everything we’ve been through separately and together.
Our future starts today, with a five-year-old sprinting toward us.
“Daddy, can Honey be my valentine?”
I laugh, deliriously happy. “Of course.”
“Actually”—his mouth twists, like it always does when he has a particularly deep thought—“if I’m Honey’s, then who is going to be your valentine?”
I glance at Story, then back at my son. “I was thinking that perhaps Miss MacIntosh could be, if that would be okay with you. What do you think?”
His nose curls up, and his eyes dart back and forth between us. “Sure. I guess,” he says eventually, only to be distracted again when Honey stretches onto her belly.
Story giggles quietly, reaches out to stroke Honey, then settles back into my side. I pour a hot chocolate for Max and pull him into my lap along with Honey.
We stay there on the picnic blanket until the sun begins its descent. We don’t move until long after it’s gone to bed, and it’s too cold to stay any longer. Quietly, we pack up. Max jumps into the car, and I carefully place a sleeping Honey on his lap.
“Daddy, d’you want to know something?”
I turn around to see him in the back. “Tell me, Maxy.”
“Today is the best day of my life,” he declares with his whole heart, and I’m inclined to agree.
“D’you know what, Maxy? Me too.” I look at Story, but she’s smiling at Max, radiantly happy and so fucking beautiful.
Then her hand reaches across, fingers slipping between mine. “Me three.”