Page 66 of Promise

“You hold all the flags here, Trin. And I’m still in the yellow zone.”

Caution. I know this much about racing.

“When you’re ready to give me the green, I’m all in.”

He stares at me a second longer, then pushes off the fridge. He runs the tip of his finger along my lower lip, and he might as well have kissed me, because his touch lingers long after he walks out of the kitchen.

As I remain plastered to the fridge, my heart wildly hammering, and my breath shallow.

And my mouth missing his.

20

[Dart]

Aweek has passed since I nearly kissed my wife against the refrigerator. I’d come home from a baseball game, a little amped up from hanging with the guys and talking to Hutch. He knew I wanted my wife to date me, and he also knew I didn’t know how to make that happen.

He also reminded me just talking to her and being honest would help.

So I asked her what she needed. And then I told her how I felt.

I’m all in when she’s ready to wave the green flag.

I’m already all in the race, but I’m just keeping a steady pace, not looking to rush or pass her. I’m just fucking thankful she’s keeping me on the track somewhere near her, which is why I couldn’t kiss her the other night. I didn’t want to pressure her. And while she’d made the first move by kissing me a few weeks ago during movie night, I wasn’t going to be the one to make a second move. At least not physically.

Reminiscing about our first kiss—and the second one—was fun. And I’m hoping it pulled forward more positive memories for Trin. Not that they all needed to center on kissing or sex.

I just wanted her to remember us. The good times. The flirty ones. The reasons we were so attracted to one another.

Then again, I worried she might still hold onto the reason we fell apart, even if we’re being more open with one another.

Like I said, she is the pace car in this race. I am following her lead.

So, I’m surprised when she enters the kitchen, dressed in a flirty summer dress that accentuates her breasts and tips off her shoulders. She’s wearing flat sandals and has the front of her hair clipped back.

“You look pretty,” I tell her, because I can’t help myself. Like that image of her on my phone smelling a daisy, she looks like a summer flower.

“It’s RiverFest,” she reminds me about the local festival to celebrate the start of summer. There will be a crowd on the green space near the river. Music in the gazebo. Restaurants and craft vendors offering their wares. And an all-around excitement about the next season.

Eventually, the river will be more active with boaters, and a summer market will fill the green area every weekend.

I hadn’t planned to attend the fest. The guys each had their own plans for the day. Hutch had his boys, and I didn’t want to intrude on his dad time. Marshall was working the alcohol tent. Petty had something arranged by the mayor. And Tate . . . well, Tate and I were still hardly speaking other than in baseball terms during the games.

As Trinity stands across from me, fluffing the dress she has Mirabelle in, one that matches the color of Trin’s pink one, she says, “I thought we could go together.”

What? I press off the island that I’d been leaning on and stare at her, certain I hadn’t heard her correctly. My heart leapt a mountain, and my breath seems to choke me.

“What?” finally staggers out of me.

“I thought we could go together. You, me, and Mirabelle.”

Like a family. It shouldn’t be my first thought, but I’ve been thinking so much about Trin and me. And Mirabelle. About how I want to be Mirabelle’s dad. I want to raise her alongside Trinity.

My heart races wildly, and I repeat my disbelief, “Really?”

“Unless you have other plans.” Trin’s voice drops a decibel, vulnerable even. Like it took a lot for her to ask me, and she shouldn’t be so hopeful.

“Yes. I mean, no.” I fumble, rushing around the corner of the island. “I mean, no, I don’t have plans. And yes, I’d love to go with you and Mirabelle to RiverFest.” I cup the back of Mirabelle’s head.