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“You are getting ridiculously strong,” I admired, cupping his stubbly chin with my free hand as he stood up with me on his shoulders and hoisted me toward the ceiling.
Paintbrush still in hand, I tilted my head to one side, studying his artwork, before considering the first stroke of my brush. “He looks lonely.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Smiley Face.”
“I can see that,” he agreed, hands settling on my calves.
“He needs Mrs. Smiley Face.”
“He definitely does.”
And that was how I spent the rest of the evening, on Gerard Gibson’s shoulders, painting his world just a little bit brighter.
16
Sleeping Girls and Racing Hearts
GIBSIE
“Hey, Gerard?”
“Yeah, Claire-Bear?”
“What’s it mean?”
“Hmm?”
“Love?” Rolling onto her belly, she rested her chin on her hand and beamed up at me. “What’s it mean?”
Grinning, I copied her moves and rolled onto my belly, facing her. “It’s what the grown-ups do when they get married.”
“Hm.” Her blond brows pulled together, and she licked the ice-cream off her chin before saying, “Hey, Gerard?”
“Hmm?”
“Why do grown-ups get married?”
“’Cause they get in love with each other,” I explained, taking a lick from my ice cream before holding it out for her.
“But why do they get in love with each other?” she asked, taking a lick of my cone. “Is it fun?”
“It’s when you live in the same house as your best friend, and you have babies and a cat,” I paused to lick my cone, before continuing, “and a big bed, and…”
“And pillow fights?”
“Yep.” I nodded. “And you get to eat cake in bed with the same person for ever and ever and ever.”
Her eyes grew really big. “But I don’t want marry anyone.” Leaning closer, she licked my cone and smiled. “Except you…”
Laying on my side with my arm around Claire, I pulled my mind from the past and focused on the present.
Beautiful.
She was so fucking beautiful that it made my chest ache. Honest to God, looking at this girl for too long caused a physical ache to develop in my rib cage. Even the back of her head. That was all I could see from my current viewpoint, and still, my heart bucked wildly in response.
Even when she was sleeping, she dominated my thought process to the point where I couldn’t resist the urge to shake her arm and wake her up, just so I could hear her voice.
