“Ellie,” I said.
“Yeah?”
She turned around, but I couldn’t see her through this fucking bush, which I’d had to move from my hip to fit into the door.
She giggled. “Can I help you? Somehow?”
“I was”—I cleared my throat—“going to ask if I could kiss you, since we probably won’t have the opportunity later. But I can’t even see you, so…”
She laughed again, and a moment later, the fronds in front of me parted.
She smiled.
I, a fucking goner, smiled back.
Ellie rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to my lips. It was sweet and chaste. Just like this moment. I closed my eyes, savoring it. “I missed you so much, Ellie. It’s stupid how much I missed you.”
I opened my eyes to see her throat bobbing.
“I’m going to see if we can get away on our own a bit tonight when we’re downtown, okay?” She said softly. “Just to talk.”
Talk? About what? Panic ripped through me. I forced myself to not go straight to doom. “Okay. Sounds good.” My voice sounded hoarse.
Somehow, we made it upstairs.
She was right, Grace was thrilled with the peonies. And Henry just about lost it when he saw me, even though I’d seen him just a couple of days ago. I offered to help with the food, but Ellie and her mom insisted it was nearly done. I was thrilled to hang out with the boys, anyway. Tommy and I talked about SAR things while building a tower with Henry. Someone had put on some classic jazz music, and I felt, in this moment, like things were perfect.
Except for that thing Ellie wanted to talk about.
I found myself growing a little queasy. I had a sudden flashback to that day on the beach, and I patted for the doll in my pocket. But I’d left it at home. On purpose.
Everything was fine, wasn’t it? I had no reason to believe it wasn’t. No matter what happened between me and Ellie.
Dinner was incredible. Grace’s chicken parmesan, which we ate early since we wanted to get out to the stuff in the square and get a good seat before the fireworks started later. But the moment we finished cleaning up, Grace said, “Well, I think it’s time we get going, children.”
Tommy the almost sixteen-year-old rolled his eyes, muttering something about being nearly grown, but he placed an affectionate hand on his grandmother’s shoulder as he rose, towering over her.
Ellie checked the clock. “Yes, good idea. I’ll grab the folding chairs.”
“Chair,” Grace said. “Singular. Tommy said he doesn’t need to sit.”
Ellie frowned. So did I.
“Mom, there are three adults,” Ellie reminded her.
But Grace looked up at Tommy. “Well, we were thinking you two need a little time alone, right?”
Tommy shrugged. “Yeah. As long as they’re not gross about it.”
Ellie’s jaw fell open.
What the hell was going on?
Grace stood. “Tommy, can you get the diaper bag ready please?” Then she looked at me. “Help me get the chair, Sam?”
“Of course,” I said, warily.
“Grace, what are you doing?” I asked when we were on the stairs. The chairs were in the shed out back.
