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Then he shoved his own helmet on, and asked, “Ready?”
“Ready,” she said, a hitch to her voice.
Then Blake smiled and kicked the throttle.
MEL
EVERYTHING WAS AMPLIFIED times one thousand. That’s the way Mel would describe riding on a motorcycle if asked. She hugged Blake tighter as they rounded a corner. She smelled everything—the green grass, the scent of wild honeysuckle on the hillside, exhaust from trucks as they passed. And she felt everything, too—the whipping wind, the change in temperature as they rode under a canopy of trees, the splash of a puddle, and the raw power of the machine beneath her.
From what she could tell, Blake was an aggressive yet cautious driver. He expertly maneuvered passed slow traffic and around bends while Mel held onto him, watching the world blur by.
They hit town far sooner than she would’ve liked, passing by restaurants and shops. Blake even took her on a tour through the Livingston Historic Manor District, a gorgeous 20th-century development of houses. He rode through Johnson Park along the Raritan River, boasting tennis courts, picnic groves, a playground, and even a petting zoo Mel knew would be her children’s favorite new spot. They passed a farmers market, a little coffee shop, and hotels, while Blake pointed things out that he clearly researched ahead of time with Mel soaking it all in. Because this was soon to be her home.
When he finally stopped the bike and parked in the lot of a hardware store, he shut the engine off, while Mel tore off her helmet and shook out her hair.
“Well, how was it?” Blake asked as he swung off the bike and turned to face her, removing his own helmet before taking hers.
“Amazing,” Mel said, and she meant it. The winding road, the wind nipping at her skin sent a shimmy down her spine. It made her feel alive. Or maybe it was the man in front of her.
Blake grinned, then reached out a hand. “Come on.”
“You brought me to a hardware store,” Mel said, more a statement than a question, as they entered through the whooshing front doors.
Blake shrugged. “Well, you once saved a newspaper clipping of a little house because you dreamed it, and now that dream is coming true, so I thought we could do a little more dreaming up for your little house. It may not be tomorrow or even next year, but eventually, you’ll want to make your mark on it. Upgrade the kitchen and maybe even the bathrooms, possibly replace the floorin
g. It’ll be your house, so anything you dream up is possible. How about it? You want to go dreaming?”
Mel glanced above at the signs hanging over the brightly lit aisles and smiled. It would be a fun game, something she could see herself doing with the kids. “Yes, please. Let’s start with the kitchen.”
After picking out her dream cabinets and countertop, they moved onto the bathroom section. Mel had to admit, dreaming up all the possibilities for her new place had her even more excited than she thought possible for the future.
As they perused tile, Blake glanced over at her, a curious expression on his face, then back again.
“What?” Mel smirked. “I can tell you want to ask me something.”
Blake hesitated, then asked, “What was your childhood home like?”
“Average, I guess. We lived in Upper Montclair in a little house, just the three of us.”
“Ah, so you were already somewhat familiar with urban life outside the city.”
Mel ran her hand over the marble tile in front of her, while she spoke, wistful as she thought of her parents. “Yeah, you could say that. My dad worked in the city, while my mom worked part-time in retail. I was always pretty close to my parents. My mother especially. She was home more, while my dad’s hours were long and so was the commute. Sometimes it was a little lonely though, being an only child, which is why I always knew I wanted to have more than one kid.” Mel’s lips twisted, and she laughed. “I just hadn’t planned on having them all at once.”
“Once and done,” Blake said. “You’re efficient, I’ll give you that.”
Mel needled him playfully in the arm. “What about you? What was life like?”
Blake grimaced. “We were luckier than most.”
“You and your brother . . .”
“Grant.” Blake nodded. “We were bounced around a lot, but we were only ever separated once, and that was temporary until they could find us another placement. As you age in the system, fewer families want you. They want the cute little cherub-faced kids with early bedtimes, not teenagers. But we never witnessed any real abuse or experienced any of the horror stories you sometimes hear about, so all in all, we fared well.”
“I suppose that’s a good way to look at it.”
Blake shrugged, and Mel sensed he wanted a change of subject when he asked, “What do you think you’d want to eventually replace the kitchen floor with? More tile or laminate wood?”
“I’m not sure. What fares better with kids?”
