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“Then let’s have dinner. Just us.” She reached to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “I can bake you a cake. I’m a decent baker.”
It was really hit or miss, but he didn’t need to know that. She’d figure something out if her cake was a bust.
He opened the backseat passenger door for her.
“It’ll probably be from a box. The cake, I mean.” She climbed inside.
“I can live with that.” His dimples flashed.
She buckled her seatbelt. “It’ll still be good.”
Probably.
“I have no doubt.” He leaned down to kiss her a quick goodbye.
“Do you think I should just order you one from a bakery?” she asked when he broke the kiss.
He grinned. “No.”
“Okay, but you’ve been warned.”
He chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. She could sense him detaching. The exchange with Teresa had done damage, and there was nothing Lucy could do about it.
* * *
Will was early for his birthday party. Well, it was just her, a cake, and dinner reservations.
That counted as a party, though. She was pretty sure.
Lucy glanced around at the powdered sugar-covered kitchen and back to the cake. She leaned her head a bit to the right. It was almost level.
“Luce?” Will called from the living room.
“Hey, Will.” She stuck her head around the corner. Like always, her breath caught at the sight of him. “Happy birthday to you...” she sang, mostly off-key.
He grinned at her. “You’ve been busy.”
“Your cake’s finished.” She glanced at her frosting-smeared apron. “Had a little bit of a powdered sugar explosion.”
“What’s all this?” He gestured to the three boxes delivered by courier a few hours ago.
“They came for you. I figured you were expecting them.”
He frowned at the packages. “No.”
“Mr. Covington, tomorrow?” Neilson had become such a part of her days, Lucy tended to forget he was around.
“Thanks for staying with Lucy.” Every day Will and Neilson said exactly the same thing. Afterward, Neilson would leave, Will would kiss her, and she’d do naughty, naughty things to him.
He didn’t go straight to her today. Instead, he pulled the tape from the first box and opened it up. He removed a worn football and tossed it in the air before setting it gently on the sofa. “My stuff from when I was a kid.”
Lucy came behind him, ran a hand around his waist, and pressed her cheek against his back. “Teresa?”
“I guess so. Probably.”
“You okay?”
He moved so his arms were around her. “Yeah. I am.”
