Mike walks over and carefully wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me gently against his side without disturbing Harris. Then he presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
“He thinks you're perfect too, Aunt Honey.”
I snort, my breath hitching a little with unshed tears. “Oh, please. I'm the messy aunt that he's going to disown when he's old enough,” I joke. I can't help it; it's my defense mechanism when things get a little too real.
Mike squeezes my arm. “Is that really what you think about yourself, Honey?”
“I think running away from the man you love in favor of a cruise is pretty messy, don't you?”
“Love?” Olivia asks immediately, interest.
I don’t give her an answer. There’s nothing to add.
She knows damn well that I love Zach. They all do.
“What’re you thinking about?” she asks more softly this time.
I look down at Harris sleeping peacefully against me.
“How full life can get,” I say quietly. “One minute your kid’s messing around in college, and the next you’re holding this tiny person you made with someone you love.” My chest tightens slightly. “It makes me think about how one person cancompletely ruin your ability to imagine a future without them in it.”
A future I’m too afraid to admit I might want.
Mike steps in front of me with a smile. “Alright, I’m taking Harris back before you decide to bring him to college with you.”
He carefully lifts his son from my arms, and I let him go reluctantly. Harris doesn’t even stir as Mike settles him against his chest and starts swaying gently.
I can’t stop watching him. The same boy I met in first grade is standing in front of me now with his son asleep against his chest.
A husband. Afather.
In the two days I've been here, I've seen Mike cry twice and pretend he wasn't. I've watched Olivia look at her son in an overwhelming kind of awe, and all I can think is how rare it is to find something this good.
I clear my throat, and point my thumb to the door.
“I should probably go and pack if I want to make it back in time.”
Not that I want to go, but staying here would keep me stuck in a past I no longer want.
Olivia looks up. “Already?”
“It's ten. If I want to beat the traffic, I need to head out in a few hours.”
Mike turns from the window with Harris still against his shoulder. “For what it's worth,” he says, “the nanny position remains open. Competitive salary. Free scrambled eggs.”
“Your scrambled eggs are terrible, Mike.”
“They're an acquired taste.”
“I've lived with you before and I never acquired it.”
I shake my head, and I'm already smiling as I lean in and press a kiss to Harris's head—he smells like everything good in the world—and then I squeeze Olivia's hand on my way past the couch.
“I'll be quick,” I say.
“Take your time.”
I won't. If I take my time, I won't go.
