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I drop Nora onto Marissa’s bed, kissing her forehead. Then I wish Marissa goodnight and leave, torn between being glad my daughter and Marissa are bonding and being jealous of my child for getting to sleep in Marissa’s arms.
45
MARISSA
The next morning I wake up being stared at by pretty blue eyes. The color is so similar to that of her father’s, it delivers a little pang to my chest.
If my son has John’s eyes, too, will I get a pang whenever I look at him?
“You’re very pretty when you sleep,” Nora says, chin resting on her hands.
I tap on her nose. “You, too, Nugget. What time is it? Did the alarm already sound?”
“Two times, you shut it off in your sleep.”
I jolt upright, checking the time on the nightstand alarm clock. “Oh, gosh, your father is going to be here in ten minutes! Let’s go.”
Feeling much like the wake-up scene in Home Alone—minus the fifteen kids—Nora and I rush through washing ourselves, getting dressed, and grabbing a quick breakfast of milk and cereal. Nora is still halfway through her bowl when the doorbell rings.
Trying not to appear too disheveled, I go to the door. And there he is, blue-eyed, smiling, irresistible…
“Morning,” I say, a little out of breath and not just from the waking-up marathon.
John tilts his head to the side, studying me, smile widening. “That bad, huh?”
“Apparently I silence alarm clocks in my sleep.”
His chuckle is the best sound I’ve heard today. And the morning has been pretty good so far, if not a little hectic.
“Good thing I brought coffee.”
He hands me a paper cup, and I sip on it as a lifeline.
“I take it the little bug isn’t ready yet?” John asks.
Nora appears behind me, and he crouches down to give her a hug. “Ready as ever, Daddy,” Nora says.
“Not until we put you into clean clothes,” he counters.
John hands her a small bag, and Nora surreptitiously checks the content. “Dad,” she protests. “The pink sweater goes with the sequined jeans, not these plain ones.”
He ruffles her bangs. “I’m sorry my sense of fashion isn’t up to your standards, sweetheart, but you’ll have to make do for today.” We both laugh at that. “Now go get changed.”
Nora goes, and John stands up, too close in the cramped space of the threshold.
Good thing the door is open and the chilling January breeze is keeping me cool, otherwise, I would probably spontaneously combust or something.
He pushes a stray lock behind my ear, edging closer still. “The morning routine gets better with time,” he murmurs. “I promise.”
“Mhm.”
That’s all I can manage; my brain is not functioning right.
To distract myself and break eye contact, I take another sip of coffee. I’m thankful the hot beverage gives me enough of a boost to stop me from gawking at John’s perfect features. His square jaw, chiseled cheekbones, full lips.
“Have I got something on my face?” he asks.
“Nope.” I slip past him, reminding myself that I’m a grown woman and I can control my hormones. I scurry inside the house, hiding before he can see me blush.
