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“Rewind about two months and you would’ve been cheering him on.”
My joke doesn’t land. Cass tenses. “You honestly believe that?”
I pull back enough to find his gaze, hoping he sees the truth as much as he hears it. “No.”
“Good.” Fingers sweep up my forearms, splaying across my shoulders, tracing the curve of my collarbones. “I’m only, like, half the jackass John is.”
I laugh quietly. “Agreed.”
“He doesn’t deserve August.”
“Agreed.”
“He doesn’t deserveyou.”
That, I find harder to get on board with, and that, Cass takes particular grievance with.
His grip slips higher, the pressure of it increasing as he cups my cheeks, making sure my eyes are on him. “Agreed?”
I take too long to respond—too lost in the unfamiliarity of someone other than August being on my side in the Sunday versus John saga. Honestly, I’ve never heard a grown man growl before but I swear that’s the most accurate description of what comes out of Cass as he drops his forehead to mine. “Sunday, baby, c’mon. You can’t honestly think he’s good enough for you.”
“I don’t.” Mostly. But I think there’s always going to be that childish, taunting voice in the back of my head insisting,well then, why didn’t he want you?“But someone around here has to practice some humility, what with you hogging all the confidence.”
Annoyingly, he doesn’t take the bait. “It’s notconfidentto know your worth, Sunday. It’s common sense.”
29
SUNDAY
I hadanother weird dream last night.
Not of the sex variety, although when I woke up in a cold sweat, panicked and confused, I kind of wished it was.
I was at our cottage back in Texas, a threadbare blanket between me and the brown-tinged grass of our old backyard. I was still pregnant—very, very pregnant. August was standing near the flowerbeds that I tried and, more often than not, failed to keep alive, a little older, a lot taller. Cass was too, but that wasn’t the weird part. No, that would be the gold band on my left ring finger, and the matching one on Cass’. August’s slightly distorted voice calling Cass‘Dad.’
And the toddler in his arms repeating it.
That’s all it was. Nothing happened yet when I woke up with the sunrise, I was too rattled to go back to sleep. Instead of trying, I crept downstairs—expertly avoiding waking up the little boy who crawled into bed with me at some point in the night—and curled up on the bay window in the living room, watching the sky turn orange with bleary eyes.
I don’t realize anyone else is awake until a steaming mug appears in front of my face. Accepting the coffee without looking at the man offering it, my chest aches when he stoops to kiss my head. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
His hand finds its favorite spot at my nape. “I’ll make breakfast when I’m back.”
Glancing at him quickly, I find him dressed for a run. Loose shorts and nothing else. Not the out-of-place lavender suit from my dream. “I gotta go home and get dressed.”
“Check the white bag in my closet.”
Shrugging at my questioning frown, Cass backs away, offering no further clarification. He tosses me a wink before disappearing into the hallway, the front door shutting quietly a moment later. I watch through the window as he jogs down the driveway and towards the house across the street, barely reaching the sidewalk before the front door swings open. Barefoot and pajama-clad, Rory hurtles outside, colliding with her uncle so enthusiastically, I wince. Unaffected, Cass hoists his niece up with one arm, her legs dangling mid-air as he kisses her cheek.
My mind wanders back to the dream. Was it a girl? The toddler with light brown skin, dark eyes, beautiful curls? I can’t remember. He’d be good with a girl. He’s good with all the kids in his family but I think he’s got a soft spot for his nieces. I think he’d like a daughter.
I think I’d like a daughter.
I think my son, yawning and stretching and rubbing his eyes as he wanders into the room, would like it if I had a daughter too.
As August joins me, I assess the damage.
