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“I see where I rank. Somewhere between pet dog and chopped liver,” he grumbles.
My heart swells with warmth and I laugh—really laugh—for the first time in forever.
I’ve missed this easy, happy feeling, so cozy and soright.
“On a school night, though?” I cluck my tongue. “You two always let her stay up past bedtime.”
Jensen chuckles, a laugh so much like his son’s, dry and deep. But it doesn’t fill me with the same tingles.
It just makes me feel comfortable, casually accepted as part of their family.
“I think we can indulge her a little longer. It ain’t spoiling the kid to let her have a few happy distractions. She still having trouble sleeping?” he asks.
“A little,” I admit. “We end up with a burr in bed with us most nights. I mean, she’ll fall asleep just fine, but usually she’ll wake up in the middle of the night and come into our room to read.”
“She was like that after the fire, too,” Jensen says solemnly. “But she just needed time and care, which you two are giving her plenty of.”
The warm approval in Grant’s father’s voice makes me blush so hard I duck my head.
Sometimes I’m a little awestruck.
I don’t know what to say.
They’ve always treated me like family, but ever since I moved in with Grant, it’s beendifferent, somehow. Like pulling me into the fold and knowing this time, I’m not going anywhere.
Nell saves me from having to come up with a response by tumbling back down the stairs, her backpack only half-zipped and bursting with her pajamas and a change of clothes. Mr. Pickle dangles from the strap by a jingly pet collar she’s insisted on using ever since she almost lost him on the yacht.
“All ready!” she announces.
I sigh indulgently.
“No, you’re not. Hold still, munchkin.” I slip around behind her and tuck her bag in a little more neatly so I can zip it up. “Nowyou’re ready. Oh—wait, no, you’re not.” I step back and quickly scoop up her books from the coffee table, closing them with a sheet of her notebook tucked inside to mark her place, then unzip the bag again and start to wedge them in. “Don’t think I don’t know you stuffed this too full for your books.”
“Then why are you trying to put them in?” she asks sulkily. “You can’t.”
“I can. I have magic space-time bending powers.” More like enough persistence to compress the fabric until I can slide the books in and the notebooks behind them. After a solid minute of pushing, I zip the bag back up and pat it lightly. “There you go.”
Nell sticks her tongue out at me over her shoulder.
“Miss Delilah won’t be happy if you haven’t finished your homework.” I grin.
Thatworks a charm.
Delilah really is like Wonder Woman to that kid.
“Okay! I’ll finish it tonight at Gammy’s.” Nell lets out a huge, dramatic sigh.
“We should get going.” Margaret holds her hand out for Nell’s bag. “Standing here in the doorway, letting in the chill. I want to get home before the snow starts, anyway.”
Snow? I peer past them at the deep, dark winter sky.
Not a star in sight past the porch overhang.
That darkness isn’t night sky.
It’s low-hanging, slate-grey clouds, heavy with the promise of snow.
“Go on,” I shoo. “Drive safe.”
