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Whoa.
Layton:Go to sleep, Olivia. I’ll rest better knowing I’m not screwing up your sleep.
Me:You’ve only ever called me Olivia in bed.
Layton:I know. Good night.
I give his message a thumbs up to acknowledge I got it, but give him the last word.
He knows.
THIRTY-SIX
POLES ON MAGNETS
LIVY
Sounds reach my ears, and I wake again, disoriented and wondering where I am. The sun isn’t in the right spot, the smells are all wrong, and Kyle is whimpering at the door.
“Give me a second, baby.”
I hobble to the bathroom and do my business, wash my face, and brush my teeth.
I toss on a bra and grab my crutches to take Kyle out.
Kimp stands in the hall outside Layton’s bedroom. His face registers guilt when I catch him.
“Good morning, Mr.— I mean, Kimp. How are you?”
“Good morning, Livy.” He looks between me and his son’s door. “Luna wanted in. This is her morning routine lately.” Kyle trots to Layton’s dad and places his head under Kimp’s hand.
“No explanation needed. That must be what Kyle heard. I think he may need to go out.” I’m babbling and need to stop.
“Well, come on, big fella. Need to go outside?”
Kyle lopes alongside Kimp at his invitation as I crutch behind.
Kimp is back in his kitchen by the time I make it there. “He’s outside exploring. How long have you had him?”
“Almost two years. He stole my heart, and I was powerless to stop it.”
“He’s a looker, that’s for sure. How do you take your coffee?”
“I don’t. I’m a tea drinker.”
Kimp turns incredulous eyes on me. “I think we have iced tea bags. We’ll figure something out for tomorrow. What do you drink?”
“Mostly green tea. Sometimes English breakfast. I’m good for now, though. Summer is the easiest time to skip it.”
A woof sounds at the door at the same time a scratch registers there. I stand, but Kimp pats my shoulder as he passes me. “I’ve got him. How’s your leg feeling this morning?”
Kyle bounds in, and Kimp takes a seat at the table next to me, pulling a chair out for me to prop up my bad leg.
“It’s sore, and the stitches pinch. I want to numb it and scratch them out at the same time.”
“Emilia, my wife, had our first three children naturally. Layton was breech and never turned. He’s been stubborn from the start.” He looks longingly down the hallway. “She had a cesarean with him. I always credit that with how close they were. But, all that to say, she felt the same with that incision. It throbbed and itched, and the stitches tugged with each movement. She couldn’t wait for it to heal.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I place my hand on the table between us, trying to offer a connection.
