“Can we stop by the house before we hit the road?” I asked Connor as the waiter came by with the check. Without even looking at it, Connor handed over his credit card, then replied,
“Sure. Want to primp?”
“I want to brush my teeth. I don’t want to go meet my father with feta cheese breath.”
“Understandable.”
I did brush my teeth when we went back to the house…and applied some eyeshadow and eyeliner, which I hardly ever did, and then decided to change my top and slip the concho belt Connor had bought me around my hips. Before I got pregnant, I’d been wearing it on the last hole before the conchos started, but today I had to slip the buckle a few notches over. At this rate, I’d be lucky to get another month or so of wear out of it before I had to pack it away with all my non-pregnancy jeans and everything else I couldn’t fit into.
Well, at least it still fits now, I told myself, and regarded my reflection solemnly. Would my father see some of himself in me — the green eyes, the cheekbones, the oval face — or would he only see my mother’s straight nose and wide mouth, her arched brows, and claim that he wasn’t my father at all?
“You look beautiful,” Connor said from behind me, and I jumped.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on a person like that.”
“I wasn’t sneaking. You’re just not used to how this house is set up. Anyway, you’re beautiful, and your father is going to be proud of you.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head — lightly, so he wouldn’t mess up my hair. “Now let’s get going.”
I knew I couldn’t delay our departure any longer, so I nodded and followed him downstairs, then out that amazing covered walkway to the garage. What would it be like in the winter, to have this sheltered path shielding us from the snow? If the property looked like fairyland now, I could only imagine what it must be like in December or January, the ground a smooth blanket of white, the trees looking as if they’d been swirled with pale frosting.
If, of course, I made it that long.
No, that was silly. Of course I’d make it to December — I was due on the 11th, although the doctor had warned me that the date wasn’t set in stone, especially for a first pregnancy, and even more so for twins. But it seemed pretty clear that I’d still be around in December. January? That was an entirely different story.
Well, I’d just have to make sure the curse was broken by then.
Oh, yeah. Easy peasy.
I got in the passenger side of Connor’s FJ. We could’ve taken my car, which also had four-wheel drive, but the Cruiser was bigger and sturdier, and Connor knew it better. If we ended up having to take rough roads, it made more sense to be in the vehicle he was most familiar with.
It was a beautiful early June day, the sun bright, not a cloud in the sky. Here in Flagstaff it was just comfortably warm, enough that you could wear sandals and a short-sleeved shirt and be just fine. Of course it was a good deal warmer back in Jerome, although I hadn’t a clue about where we were headed. Maybe I should’ve thrown my jean jacket in the back, just to be safe, since I knew it could get pretty cold at night here, even in June.
June…why was that tickling at my brain?
Then I got it. I shifted in my seat and shot Connor an accusing glare. “I just realized it’s June, and you told me once that your birthday was in June. If you let me miss it, I’ll never forgive you.”
He shot me a startled look, then relaxed slightly and smiled. “No worries on that front. It’s the twenty-first.”
Wait…what? “You mean your birthday is on the solstice, too?”
“Yeah.”
“And you don’t find that just a little bit of a coincidence?”
“Angela, pretty much everything to do with us is a weird coincidence. I’m kind of just rolling with it at this point.”
I couldn’t really argue with that. Still, it had to mean something, didn’t it? That we should have been born on the two most significant dates in the sun’s calendar? Something in Connor’s expression told me I shouldn’t push it too much, so I only said, “Well, I’m glad it’s still a few weeks off yet. That gives me some time to shop.”
He gave me a mock-worried glance. “Don’t go overboard. Please. I really don’t need anything.”
“Really?” I inquired. “Nothing? Not even me wrapped in a red silk teddy?”
“Oh, okay,” he said, relenting. “That might be one birthday present I’d be all right with.”
There wasn’t much I could do except chuckle and shake my head. Yes, I’d definitely spring the lingerie on him, but maybe some new paintbrushes, too, and his wallet was so beat-up it looked like he’d backed the FJ over it a few times. For all I knew, maybe he had.