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My shoulders heaved.
Bohannan wrapped his arm around them.
And as we stood there, we didn’t notice the temperature had fallen.
And the mist swallowed the police tape on the pier.
Forty-Three
Perfect
“I, honest to God, don’t know whether to spew or go out and buy an apron.”
“Oh my God, please, don’t go out and buy an apron.”
“I’m buying one…for you. I know it’s my mom, but this June Cleaver deal is hot.”
“I will never forgive you for this.”
“Don’t get any ideas. I burn water when I’m boiling it.”
In succession:
Fenn, to me.
Joan, to Fenn.
Camille, to Joan.
Joan, to me.
Fenn, to James.
Important note: if James felt the need, the need for speed, he didn’t let on. He was quiet and very laid back. I liked him within seconds of meeting him. It wasn’t that his puzzle was simple or uncomplicated. It was just that he was perfect for Fenn.
Though, it was clear, even if so far I’d only seen him in jeans and a Henley, he’d be very fun to watch playing beach volleyball.
I was making dinner for my brood and Bohannan’s brood in Bohannan’s kitchen.
Will was staying with his maternal grandmother who, as of yesterday, stopped talking to her daughter, except to tell her to get her grandson to her house.
However, he was over now because Celeste was becoming his touchstone, and, according to Annette, his grandmother, “I don’t think any of us can argue that boy needs the example of some decent men in his life.”
And truly, no one could argue that.
This next concerned me, however, I felt they could use the mental break; but rather than being on the hunt, Bohannan, Jason and Jesse were home with us.
My kids were settled in at my house, which all of them, including James, gave a stamp of approval, and Camille had even stood staring out the back windows, muttering a disgruntled, “Okay. I get it.”
And at that time, she hadn’t seen Bohannan’s view.
Or met Bohannan.
Or his brood.
Now, the gang was all together.
And I was slipping.
Because I hadn’t even noticed I’d fallen into the role of the little woman.
Or realized how much I was enjoying it.
Jace approached me (eating a cookie…and yes, he was eating said cookie while I was cooking, and yes again, I had baked that cookie) and he slung an arm around my shoulders.
“Why is everything about you suddenly explained?” he asked.
“Takes a wiseass to make a wiseass,” Jess stated sagely, his face in the fridge.
“We’re going to eat in ten minutes, Jess,” I admonished (you will note, I didn’t say a word to Jace, I’d already given up on this kind of thing with him).
Jess came out of the refrigerator chewing on a stick of string cheese. “Yeah, it smells awesome.”
“I have wanted a brother all my life,” Fenn declared, gazing between them approvingly. “And look, now there are two.”
“Hey, gee, thanks,” Camille said.
Fenn looked at Camille. “When I was seven, you asked Mom to give me a penis.”
That did happen, Camille so badly wanted a big brother.
“I was four, I probably didn’t know what a penis was,” Camille shot back.
“She still doesn’t know,” Joan whispered to James.
James grinned.
“Can you not embarrass me?” I requested of my girls.
“How are we embarrassing you?” Fenn asked, seeming genuinely perplexed.
“I don’t know, maybe carrying on a conversation about penises is a topic for discussion pre-seventh or eighth dinner we share with my new man and his family,” I suggested. “I know!” I suddenly exclaimed. “Let’s save it for Thanksgiving.”
“No, please go on,” Jess said, leaning into one elbow on the counter of the bar, his other hand held another stick of string cheese. He bit some off and said through chewing, “I want to hear more about penises.”
“I have bragged outrageously about how perfect you are,” I declared to the girls. “Sadly, I forgot to warn you to pretend that’s what you were.”
“Aw, Mom, really?” Camille asked. “That’s so sweet.”
“I am truly perfect.” Fenn draped herself on a barstool in a manner James, Jess, Jace and Will watched very closely in one way, Celeste watched it closely in another, and I lamented for the first time how strikingly beautiful and lithe my daughter was.
She was addressing this to Bohannan, who was silently regarding all of this from his place, leaning with his ass against the sink and the apples of his palms resting on the counter behind him.
“The angels sang, and the doves cried when I was born,” Fenn went on.
“Barf,” Camille groaned.
“Obviously, as you can see,” Fenn drawled, “the trolls grunted, and the goblins danced when Camille made her way into the world.”
“Which is perfect, as a sorceress, that I’d find you,” Joan purred, nuzzling Camille’s neck with her chin.
“You’re actually mine, I don’t know where those two came from,” I said to Joan.
“I wish,” she replied.
Yes, Joan’s parents were rather a pill.
I blew her a kiss.
