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The sudden change in the topic makes me laugh. “Vanilla.”
This time, her melodic laugh fills the space. “I didn’t peg you as the vanilla type,” she teases.
Winking at her, I say, “My taste has adapted since then.”
“I’ve always loved strawberry.”
We stay in that position as the hours fly by, talking about the minuscule things we don’t share. Savannah shares things about herself no background check could reveal. Every minor detail amplifies how magnificent she really is.
“Why did your dad make you a chessboard, of all things?” she asks.
I finish topping her seventh ice cream cone before answering. “We used to play ever since I was a child. He said it was a game that taught discipline.”
She frowns. “He sounds like a strict man.”
“Not at all. He liked having things in order but was a free spirit.”
I enjoy the way Savannah observes me. Her curious gaze trails all over my skin, leaving a blaze behind. “Would you ever consider contacting your mum to make amends?”
The tension in my body clicks in my jaw. The last thing I need is Savannah trying to heal me from the wounds my mother left.
“No.” The single word drips with venom.
She understands to drop the subject. “Sorry.” She hops off the counter. “Let’s go and find a chessboard somewhere.”
And just like that, the tension vanishes. The glow in her cheeks and sparkle in her eyes eases my muscles.
With a smile, I ask, “Why?”
“You’re going to teach me how to play. I want to learn all your trick moves.”
I playfully tut at her as we exit. “A good player never reveals his best moves.”
Her puppy eyes do little to weaken my defence. “Why? Scared I’ll give you a taste of your medicine?”
I pull her arm so her back is pressed against me. Bowing my head so my lips are at her ears, I say, “Medicine? Baby, I play with poison.”
She pushes away with a devilish grin. “What good is a game if the stakes aren’t high?” She offers a handshake.
With my interest piqued, I shake her hand. “Winner takes all.”
“Game on.”
35
Emerywouldhavelovedthe nursery if she were alive to see it. Savannah adds the finishing touches while I stand back and watch. She has transformed the space into a beautiful pastel-coloured jungle. Not one of my background checks highlighted her artistic flair.
She drops her tools and lowers herself into her chair. “Okay. I think we’re done. What do you think.”
“Perfect. I’m sure the baby will love it.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “The baby won’t even know what it’s looking at.”
I round the chair until I’m looking down at her. “Did you just roll your eyes at me, Miss Hayes?”
She holds her hands up in surrender. “Apologies. Shall we assemble the furniture?”
I gently push her back. “You sit. I’ve got this.”
