Page 64 of Shattered Dreams

We both turn to look at her, waving us over to the oversized patch of pumpkins that have already been picked, which everyone usually takes photos with.

“What’s up?” I call out.

She waves at us animatedly. “Don’t think you’re getting out of the yearly photo.”

I tense for a moment as she hands her phone to Mrs. Taylor, who points at a couple spots, and Sean and Amelia take their position and Maddox settles next to his mother.

I hang my head as Dre grips my shoulder.

“Come on,” he says with a chuckle, and I let out a low breath as we head towards the pumpkins. I take my spot next to Maddox as Dre scoops up Rylee whose laugh is damn near infectious. He settles her on his left hip as Mrs. Taylor positions the camera and then she moves it down.

“Something wrong?” Amelia asks, and the worry in her voice is genuine. I’d know.

“Andre, put your arm around Paul.”

I tense for a moment, looking at him. He gives me a knowing look, not like he’s asking permission, but like he’s acknowledging something. Something that makes my heart race like the butterflies in my stomach.

Time stops, and I think maybe he’s not going to do it. So I carefully slide my arm behind his back, my hand settling lightly on his hip .

It’s polite enough for a picture; nonchalant enough no one would think anyone of it. But I can feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, and I give him the faintest squeeze. And then he does it. He simply slides his arm around my shoulders and adjusts his stance, turning Rylee closer to the camera. His fingers grip my shoulder, squeezing it in return.

“That’s better,” Mrs. Taylor says. “Now say ‘Happy Birthday’!”

Everyone says “Happy Birthday,” and Mrs. Taylor snaps a few photos, rearranging everyone for group shots like she’s a damn photographer. I’m just about blind from the flash when she orders Dre and I to pose with the pumpkins. Just the two of us.

“Mom…” Dre groans as she tells him to hush. Mr. Taylor leans into my space and whispers, “Better just do it, son, or she will hound you until you break.”

I let out a chuckle, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, I get that.”

So I take a deep breath and do as she says, posing next to Dre. My heart is in my damn throat, even though we’re just standing side by side, hands in our pockets. She takes a couple photos, and then that’s it. We’re off to the actual patch to find a pumpkin, which doesn’t take as long as it usually does. Maddox picks a perfectly round pumpkin like he usually does, and Rylee picks the biggest pumpkin they have at the damn patch. We have to get a cart to transport it, and I’m pretty sure Dre is regretting his choices, but he doesn’t dissuade her.

Before he can tell me no, I pay for Rylee’s pumpkin along with Maddox’s, and he gives me a knowing glare that tells me he’s going to make me pay for this later, somehow. Though I can’t say I didn’t know that he would. Maybe I counted on it, a little. Getting under his skin is fun sometimes; I won’t lie.

The afternoon goes by too fast. The kids get their faces painted and make spiders out of tootsie roll pops and pipe cleaners, and they eat way too much sugar between the cookies, candy and caramel apples, and ‌hot chocolate. It’s nearing five when we finally make it back over to Amelia’s for cake and ice cream, but I’m not sure I can eat anything else after everything else I’ve consumed today. I’m so fucking full, I think I could take a nap for about a week.

Rylee looks like she’s hanging on by a thread and refuses to let Dre put her down because her legs “feel like Jell-O.”

He shifts around a bit, and I see him grimace.

“I can take her if you want a break,” I whisper. He looks at me, a soft smile on his lips.

“You don’t mind?” he asks, his voice low, careful. I shake my head and Dre carefully passes her off to me. Rylee yawns but doesn’t protest.

“You gonna make it, princess? There’s still cake and ice cream,” I say, shifting her onto my hip. “And I think it’s s’mores…”

Rylee rubs her eyes but nods in approval just as Amelia brings out Maddox’s cake, and we all chime in to sing.

Rylee settles her head on my shoulder, her soft hair brushing against my neck as Amelia tells Maddox to make a wish.

I sway absentmindedly with Rylee in my arms, feeling tired myself, but also strangely alert.

I watch as Maddox blows the candles out, and just as he does, I feel the warmth of Dre’s hand resting on my hip. He doesn’t move it, and I steal a glance at him as Amelia starts to cut the cake and Mrs. Taylor starts scooping ice cream.

“I can take her,” he says softly.

I shake my head as Rylee hums softly, and I can tell she’s not going to make it.

“I’m good. Sit down; have some cake.”