“Come on, kid. I’ll help you sort all that candy,” Travis says to Brooklyn as he leads her into the house.
“You guys are playing with fire,” Will says quietly so Travis and Brooklyn can’t hear us. “When this thing all blows up, and you know it will, I hope I’m not around to witness the carnage.” He takes my hand and drags me into the house, my mind filled with different scenarios and outcomes to this relationship. But maybe, just maybe, it won’t blow up. Maybe it won’t end. I reach out and grab onto that spark of hope and hang on to it for dear life.
We have plans tonight to go to St. Charles and eat pizza. I thought maybe we could go to the arcade in the mall when we’re done eating and let Brooklyn play all the games her little heart desires. I never thought I’d be excited to hang out with a toddler during a date, but as I get changed, I can’t believe how excited I actually am to spend the evening with my girls. My girls. I’ve come to realize in the last week or so that they are, in fact, my girls. I want to spend as much time with them as possible.
After I clean out the back seat of the Silverado, I head over to Avery’s. When I ring the bell, she hollers at me to come in. Inside, I can hear the sounds of the girls getting ready in the back followed by running feet. Brooklyn runs around the corner and flings herself at me. As I bring her up to my torso, I feel this unfamiliar tightening deep in my chest. I love holding her. The thought is alarming and exciting all at the same time. It scares the shit out of me.
“Hi, sweetheart. Are you ready to go?”
“Yep! Mommy’s coming too!”
“I know. Is she still getting ready?”
“Uh huh. She’s wate.”
I smile at her matter-of-fact tone. When I hear heavier footfalls in the hallway, I turn to catch Avery walk into the room. She steals my breath every time I see her. She is, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Has there ever been any other woman who gives me this reaction? The answer is no. Hell no! My pants grow tighter below the belt as I follow her approach with my eyes. The gentle sway of her hips; the way her long legs sort of cross over the other as she walks. Her crystal blue eyes are sparkling and her face is lit up like Christmas morning.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.” I lean forward and give her a lingering kiss on the lips. My pants tighten further as our bodies touch ever so slightly. Brooklyn giggles and kisses me on the cheek. “Me kiss too.” Avery smiles against my lips.
“You want a kiss too?” she asks her daughter as she stands up on her tip toes to kiss her cheek. “Let’s go! Mommy’s starving.”
After a quick detour to her Jeep to get the car seat, we secure Brooklyn in the backseat of my truck. Heading out of town, I reach over and grab Avery’s hand, linking our fingers together. She gives me another one of her killer smiles. I can’t remember the last time I held hands with someone. Ever?
We talk comfortably the entire trip to St. Charles. When we get there, we are fortunate enough to find a parking spot up front. I grab Brooklyn out of the back of the truck, and we head inside; Brooklyn tucked safely in my arm and Avery’s hand tucked securely in my other hand.
“Two and a booster? Booth or table?” the young girl says as we walk in.
“A booth would be perfect,” Avery says as she shakes her head.
“Right this way.” She grabs a couple of menus and leads us into the dining room. After Avery gets Brooklyn settled in the booster seat next to her, we start browsing the menu.
“Order whatever you and Brooklyn want. I’ll eat anything on my pizza.”
“Hi, guys. I’m Megan, your server. Can I get you drinks to start?”
Avery looks over the menu and decides on Coke. “A pitcher of Coke, please,” I say. “What about Brooklyn?”
“I have juice for her in the bag.”
“Okay. Any appetizers while you decide on your pizza?” Megan asks.
We pass on the appetizers and go straight to ordering the pizza. “Large sausage, mushroom, and green pepper, please,” she says with a slight question in her tone, looking at me for guidance.
“Perfect,” I reply. Megan snatches up the menus and promises to be back quickly with our drinks.
“So, what are your plans this weekend,” I ask as I reach over to link my fingers with hers across the table. Who knew I’d like holding hands. I can’t get enough of it. Or her. Maybe it’s not the act of holding hands, but with whom I’m holding hands with? That has to be it because I can’t imagine wanting to touch anyone else like I want to touch her.
“Holly’s off this weekend so we’re talking about going shopping on Sunday before dinner at my parent’s house. Brooklyn needs new winter clothes. I think she grew two sizes this summer.”