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“I like the beach.”
“You’ve never been to the beach.” I ruffle his hair as I stand and carry my empty bowl to the dishwasher.
“But I would like it.”
“You might.” I nod. “But all moms need breaks. She’s probably kicked back on a towel, snoozing.”
In a swimsuit. Maybe a bikini. That thought makes my heart pound.
“She’s probably building sandcastles.”
Doubtful, but now I wonder if it’s not that Ryle misses Julie, but maybe he’s jealous that he isn’t building sandcastles.
“Maybe, but we’re gonna do something even better.”
“What’s better than sandcastles?” he asks around another mouthful.
“Have you ever flown a plane?”
“I can’t even drive a car, Dad.” He rolls his eyes, and I have a vision of what he’s going to be like when he’s ten or twelve.
“Just a sec.”
He watches me leave the kitchen, but he doesn’t follow me. I need to remember to tell Julie about this conversation when we talk next. She FaceTimed last night from her hotel room, so she could see Ryle. I talked to her for a few minutes; she was in a sleepshirt, sitting up in her bed. Beautiful. I hope she calls again to talk to Ryle. No, I hope she FaceTimes again, so I get to see her again.
I hid the remote control airplane in my closet. Twain and I had remote control cars when we were kids, and we loved them. Well, we loved race cars and Hot Wheels and racetracks, so of course we loved remote control cars. Ryle has one—I got it for him last year for his birthday. He played with it for a while, but I’m hoping to spark some interest with a plane.
I’m banking on it being fun, different, since he and I can take it out together.
“What’s that?” he asks when I carry the box into the kitchen. He’s at the sink, on his tiptoes, rinsing his bowl out.
“A remote control airplane.”
He tips his head and stares at me suspiciously.
“Lemme see it.”
“See it? How about we go to the park and fly it?”
“Can we?” His grin lights up his face.
“Of course we can!” I anticipate his fist bump and throw my hand up for it.
“Mom would say I have to brush my teeth first.”
“Then you better go brush your teeth,” I say with a shrug.
“Are you and Mom getting married?” he asks as he goes down the hall to the bathroom.
His question stuns me. I nearly drop the box. What does he know about marriage? I mean, obviously, he knows his family isn’t the same as other kids’ families at school. But he can’t be the only kid who lives with just his mom. But does he understand what marriage is? Well, no, he can’t really understand it, but what does he think it is?
I follow him to the bathroom and prop myself in the doorway. He puts a pea-sized amount of paste on his toothbrush and then leans forward to turn the faucet on. Our eyes meet in the square mirror over the sink. I don’t know how to answer him.
“Are you?” he asks again.
I can’t say yes. Because we’re not there yet. I am. I’m all in. I’d put a tux on tomorrow and meet Julie at St. John’s—her parents’ church—or City Hall. But we haven’t talked that far ahead, and talking about it with Ryle first would be a big mistake.
“I don’t know, Ryle.” I sigh, my voice gruff with emotion I hope he doesn’t pick up on. If Jules and I don’t get back together now, after easing back into a new level of whatever it is we’re doing, it’s going to kill me.
