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"You mean tomorrow at the rehearsal dinner," I corrected.
"Yes, of course. That's what I meant. I mixed things up." She nodded a little too enthusiastically.
"You never mix things up. I make you feel off-balance."
"No, you don't."
"That's okay, sweetheart. You do the same to me."
I watched with satisfaction as her lips parted slightly and she gripped the sling of her bag tighter. Then she turned around and walked toward the front gate at a brisk pace.
Off-balance was one way to describe it. Currently, I felt like my world had shifted off its axis
.
***
Lori
Pulse racing? Yep.
Legs wobbling? Like it was their job.
Butterflies in my stomach? Oh la la.
I couldn't wrap my mind around the kiss, mostly because I was still busy reliving it. As I picked Milo up from school, I fought to pull myself together... and failed. That kiss deserved to be relived anyway. When we arrived home, I prepared Milo's favorite snack, peanut butter sandwiches. Our excitement was palpable in the air. Milo was excited about the concert; I was still reeling from the kiss. Graham Frazier had brought a lot of joy to the Connor household.
"Milo, let's get you ready." I'd printed the tickets earlier in the day and flaunted them in front of him. His eyes lit up. He hopped over from his chair and climbed straight into my arms. I held him as best I could, hoping I wouldn't throw my back out in the process. He was too heavy for me now, but I'd never say that to him. He rarely wanted to be in my arms now anyway, mostly only when he was sick, so I was gobbling up these opportunities whenever I could.
We were out the door within minutes and hopped into an Uber. The area around the arena was closed to traffic though, so we walked on foot for about fifteen minutes after we climbed out of the car. We were surrounded by other concertgoers. Laughter filled the warm evening air, and Milo tried to wiggle his hand out of mine repeatedly, excited to inspect the booths selling memorabilia.
I hadn't looked closely at our tickets, but when security at the entrance checked them, he said, "Ma'am, you're sitting in the VIP section. There's a separate entrance."
Milo formed an adorable O with his mouth. He might be seven, but he understood VIP. A few short minutes later, we arrived in the VIP area. Milo squealed with joy.
"Mommy, these seats are so nice."
"They are, aren't they?" The seats in our section were covered with a velvet-like fabric, while the rest were plastic.
As I led us to our seats, I found myself hoping, foolishly, that Graham would be here too, that he'd actually had three tickets. But when we arrived at numbers 9 and 10, I took in our neighbors. An elderly lady and her nephew occupied numbers 11 and 12, and a young couple and their daughter, who seemed to be Milo’s age, sat in numbers 6, 7, and 8.
No Graham. Of course, this band was popular with kids, hence all the parents and grandparents. But I couldn't shake off the twinge of disappointment in my stomach. What was up with that?
Milo and I sat down, but as the band appeared on stage and kicked off the performance with a fan favorite, we jumped to our feet, singing and dancing. We didn't sit for the rest of the concert. I was pretty sure we'd both lose our voices tonight. I snapped pictures of the band, and selfies of Milo and me throughout the evening.
When we returned home, Milo went out like a light the moment I tucked him in. As I slipped into my own bed, I thumbed through the pictures I'd taken at the concert. On a whim, I sent Graham a picture of Milo with the stage in the background.
Lori: The concert was amazing.
I hadn't expected Graham to answer tonight, but I received a text message a few minutes later.
Graham: Very cute boy. What’s his name? Does he like The Hurls too? I received tickets for it last month. You can have them.
Lori: His name is Milo and he LOVES them. That would be great. You made this little boy very happy tonight.
Graham: Did I make his mother happy too?
Lori: Definitely.
