Mason lets me take him out of his seat, which is a win in itself, and we walk over to the tree. “This is the bark of the tree. See how you can touch it?”
I slide my hand over the rough surface, and Mason does the same. “Woof woof.”
“Sort of, bud. It’s called bark, but not the sound a dog makes.”
He smiles as I clip him back into the stroller, where he and his brother giggle and say “woof woof” the last block to the park.
It’s a blast. I follow the twins’ lead entirely, which means I spend twenty minutes on my knees in the dirt around the base of the slide while Mason packs mulch into a pile and Kasen demolishes it. It’s the most purposeless and peaceful thing I’ve done in longer than I can remember. Mallory is quiet beside me, her knees pulled up, watching her boys the way she does everything, steady and fully present. I sneak a look at her, and she’s already looking at me.
After an hour, we head back to the house, the boys drinking from sippy cups and acting sleepy. We definitely wore them out. We slid, chased, climbed, and sat in more dirt. It’s amazing how great Mallory is with her boys. She says it’s because she’s a twin, and she's not scared to be the bad guy.
I do my best not to picture her being bad. I’m not even a little successful. Mason fixes that, toddling over and handing me his sippy cup with the authority of someone who expects it refilled immediately.
After both boys get a refill, Mallory tucks the boys in for their naps, leaving me in the living room with her mother and sister.
“I, uh, I have something for you, Kate.”
Not giving her a chance to respond, I go out to the front porch and retrieve the small plant I stashed off to the side. When I return to the living room, Kate and her mother are each wearing small smiles.
“It’s a portulaca. It doesn’t need much water. This has pink and yellow blooms to match Mallory’s prickly pear.”
Kate turns to her mother. “That’s his nickname for Mal.”
“Fitting.” Emily smiles. “Would you like something to drink, Cam? Or is it Walker?”
Mama bear’s not going to let my mess-up slide, and I respect that. “My family calls me Cam.”
“Alright.” She absorbs my words as Kate takes her plant to the sun porch. “I’m glad you came to see Mal, Cam.”
“Me too, Ms. Jenkins.”
“Call me Emily.”
Once the boys are down, I know it’s time to leave. I say goodbye to Emily and Kate, then heave a huge sigh when we step onto the porch.
“Thanks for seeing me today.”
“Thanks for the cactus.”
“I’m staying at Twisted Whiskey for a bit. Let me make you dinner.”
“I don’t know…”
“It’s just dinner, Prickly Pear, and tomorrow’s Sunday. Bring the boys.”
“Okay.”
“Can I pick you up at six?”
“Sounds great.”
I lean down and kiss her cheek, already feeling lighter.
Chapter 12
Mallory
Sitting in the guest house at Twisted Whiskey is surreal. I’m not one to fangirl, but I just saw Nash Rivers singing his latest hit at Boots on the Lake a month ago. Now I’m on his property? Driving under the famed arch that’s pictured on his Twisted Whiskey album was bizarre.
