And Mack's words come rushing back to me.
This change does seem risky. And I sure as hell feel vulnerable. But standing here, watching Tessa fall in step with my daughter like she's always belonged—after how we connected earlier—also feels pretty damn good.
I stay there, observing for another moment before I can't stand to not join them any longer. "What's goin' on in here?"
They hear me this time, standing side-by-side at the counter, Tessa's hand instantly flying to adjust her lopsided bun. Ruthie races toward me. "Smells like heaven."
Looks like it too.
"We're baking," Ruthie says cheerfully, grabbing my arm. "No one signed up for snack all week, so Tess is teaching me how to make banana bread from scratch."
She pulls me in the direction of the smell, and I risk a glance at Tessa. "You volunteered? For multiple days?"
She shrugs, eyebrows high. "It's no big deal."
Roo twists back toward me as we reach the oven. "The other parents usually slice a couple of oranges and hit Costco for some fruit snacks," I remind them both.
"Yeah, but this is better," Ruthie says. "Plus, I wanted to learn. Look." She yanks my arm nearly out of its socket so that I'm at her level as she stares through the oven door. "I made that," she whispers.
I chuckle, peering over to find her eyes wide in awe. Smiling, I rub the hair on the top of her head. "Looks perfect to me. You did good, kid," I say, nudging my shoulder into hers. I look behind me and see Tessa watching us—me. "You both did."
She swallows and grins, and I stand back up, tapping Ruthie's shoulder. "Hey, do you still want to hit the movies today?"
She nods ferociously, her gaze still trained on the bread through the glass. "Yeah, duh. When is it?"
I scoff, my brows high. "We'd have to leave in like an hour… duh."
Ruthie glares at me playfully, then hones back in on the bread. "Can Tess come?"
My eyes dart to Tessa's already on me. "Of course," I answer quickly—too quickly—holding her gaze. "Ifshe wants to."
"Oh, um…" Tess glances around as if she's looking for an answer—or an excuse maybe?
The thought makes my stomach turn, but before I can overthink it, Ruthie spins toward us, her hands in a prayer. "Please," she begs.
I actively stop myself from joining her.
After a forever-long second of hesitation, Tess scrunches her face lovingly and winks at my daughter. "I'd love to."
An unexplainable contentment settles in my chest—probably the fade of the adrenaline rush that came from waiting for her answer. Whatever it is causes me to move slowly toward Tessa as Ruthie turns back toward the oven like she's waiting for something exciting to happen.
As I step closer, Tess's breathing becomes audible, the patch of skin above the collar of her t-shirt turning pink. I step toe-to-toe with her, lifting my hand like I may tuck a hair behind her ear like I have before—like I want to. But instead, I suck on the pad of my thumb.
Tessa's lips part as she tracks every movement, and when I swipe it across her cheekbone, she visibly shivers.
"You had a little—"
"Oh." Her hand wipes at her temple.
"Flour."
"Thanks."
I smile, stepping past her, unable to resist slowly dragging my fingertips across the dip of her waist.
A quick breath in tells me that, at the very least, Tessa hasn't quite gotten me out of her system yet either. And to say I'm glad to spend the afternoon with her would be an understatement.
"Hey, don't stare at that too long," I call to Ruthie once I've cleared the island. "Can't that cause blindness or something?"
