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I can’t help but smile. “I love it. We practice on Thursday nights and I look forward to it all week.”
Looking out to where Ethan is jumping up and down attempting to catch a firefly, he says, “Then it is a big deal.” A moment passes before he looks back to me. “And for the record, you look amazing. A little ice cream won’t kill you.” Before I can protest, he’s extending the spoon my way, laden with a mixture of peach ice cream and the whipped cream topping. His eyes are fixed on my mouth. He’s daring me or seducing me—I'm not sure which—but it’s as if some cult leader is inviting me to drink from the fountain. My mouth opens without my permission and my eyes close when the cold rich goodness begins to melt on my tongue. “That’s it,” he coaxes. And when I open my eyes, that same spoon is now in his mouth. He’s licking it clean.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Simon
I’m exhausted by the time I throw my duffel bag onto the passenger side seat and climb into my truck. It’s been a long week, and longer than a week since I’ve been with Ethan and Charlotte. I’ve seen them, but a video chat is no substitute for the real thing.
At six o’clock every night I spend a few minutes listening to him talk, sing, or show me something. It hasn’t been awkward the way I’d feared. No, it’s been good. The calls don’t last long—little kids don’t have much in terms of attention span—but it doesn’t matter. I just want to stay in his thoughts and keep up this connection we’re developing, and it accomplishes that.
Most evenings I only get to spy Charlotte walking around the kitchen in the background, but sometimes she sits down with him and she talks to me. I pray that I’m not reading her wrong, but I believe there’s a chance for us. I felt the air crackling between us that last night on the deck, and I saw the way she looked at me. I know what I feel, and I’m hoping she feels the same.
I think about the two of them nonstop. My energy is focused when I’m at work, but it’s with a new sense of purpose. I’m not here just trying to prove myself, I’m here to build a future—one that can support my son. I’ve always had a sense of pride in what I do, in how hard I work, but now I have a child, and I want him to be proud of me someday. My perspective has totally changed.
On the ride up I have a lot of time to think. Should I tell Charlotte what I’ve done, that I’ve set the wheels in motion? I’m on borrowed time now. I’ll see them first thing tomorrow morning, but then I’ll be right back on the road after lunch on Sunday.
When I pull up to the cabin, I see two vehicles parked outside. The truck is clearly Lawrence’s, if the hunting permit and the bumper sticker that reads:Team SISU: We Wash our Balls in Ice Waterare anything to go by. Lawrence told me he’d leave the key under the mat like he did last time, but before I reach the porch I can see there’s a note tacked to the front door.
Simon,
Come back to the house, there’s a bed set up for you. Sorry about the mix-up.
I’m sure there’s some valid explanation, like Lawrence had unexpected company or something, but the note gives me hope. Maybe this is her doing. She wants me staying there, with her, with them. And I am totally on board—I want to play house with Charlotte more than anything else in the world right now. When I get there, the glow of a light on inside quickens my heartbeat.
She greets me at the door as I step onto the porch. “Hey.”
“Hi.” I’m half-dazed at the site of her. Dressed in pajama shorts and a tank top, she’s exposing a lot more skin than I’m used to seeing, and with her hair pulled up, I feel like a magnet is drawing my lips to her neck. She’s saying something, I think, but it’s not registering.
“Simon?” She waves her hand in front of my face. “I’m so sorry, you must be exhausted. I was worried when I didn’t hear back from you, but I guess you saw the note.”
I think I get off to a stuttering start before managing to say, “Yeah, I saw the note on the door. You called me?” And sure enough, when I look down at my phone, I notice the ringer has been turned off. “I keep it on low when I’m at work, but I thought it was on. I see the missed calls now.”
I’m disappointed when I see the couch has been set up for me, but I’m being an idiot. I don’t expect to be upstairs with them—not yet, anyway.
“Do you want a beer?”
“I’d love one,” I answer, before excusing myself to use the bathroom.
She comes back to the living room with two bottles that look like someone labeled them in their basement.
“You drink? If I’m not mistaken, you’re still underage, missy.”
“Don’t tell Lawrence, but occasionally I do sneak one of his pricey craft brewery beers.”
Upon closer inspection, the labeling looks more like a marketing ploy meant to give the bottle a home-brewed look. And then my attention is on her. Charlotte’s taken a seat on the couch, right atop the blankets I’m going to be curled up in later, and she’s reaching her hand up to offer me a beer, inviting me to sit beside her. I take a seat and then watch as she lifts her bottle to her lips. My eyes don’t stray from that sight as I draw a long pull from my own.Patience, Simon. It's an absolute certainty that I’m going to replay this scene in my head later on tonight and imagine all the things I’d do with her if I could, but right now I have to rein it in.
“This is good.”
“It’s heavy like a stout, right? I usually can’t finish one of these off, but I do like the taste of it.” Charlotte takes another sip, watching as I reach back to pull my sweatshirt over and off. I lean back into the couch and meet her eyes. She glances down into her lap then, clearing her throat. “You must be exhausted.”
“I’m definitely tired, but I won’t be able to fall asleep yet.”
Translation:Stay here with me.
“I knew we were having company this weekend but I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t welcome, or you had to put off visiting Ethan for another week.”
I’m disappointed now, realizing I won’t have the two of them all to myself. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me…Spending another week just skyping would have been tough. Who’s visiting?”
