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This man is a catch, alright. One in a million.
So what happens in two days, when the wedding is over, and we go back to our regular lives?
I shake off that unwelcome thought, and turn off the main road; bumping down a dirt track until we reach the sanctuary. The main lodge sits on the edge of the treeline with a view of the bay, and I can see the netted enclosures, and lush vegetation where – hopefully – our hundreds of butterflies are getting ready to wow at the wedding.
“You guys look around,” I tell them, as we approach the lodge. “I need to go confirm the plan for tomorrow.”
“Uh oh,” Lottie grins. “Are you going to make them cry?”
“What? No!” I protest. “And why do you keep bringing that up? It happenedonetime.”
“I’ve got to hear this story,” Josh says immediately, shooting me a smirk.
Lottie beams. “So, picture this: it’s the week before Thanksgiving, and mom’s working on this commercial shoot, and they can’t find a cute-looking yam.”
“A lamb?”
“No,yam.”
I leave them to it, and head inside. I’ve been emailing with the sanctuary director all week, and to my relief, she seems to have everything under control – especially now that Avery and Robert are paying their entire operating budget. For two years.
We quickly review the schedule, and sign some paperwork, before I go to find Lottie and Josh again. Hopefully before Lottie shares too many embarrassing stories. But when I find them, it’s Josh who’s in the hot seat, as my daughter peppers him with questions about New York and his life as they stroll the enclosures.
“…and how many years did you have to go to law school? I want to do a PhD, so it’s going to beyearsbefore I’m done with school.”
“Enough with the interrogation,” I interrupt, before Lottie can start asking how much he earns. Josh is probably already regretting roped into this, instead of spending a relaxing day at the beach.
“It’s OK,” he reassures me, smiling. “I like talking about my work.”
“You’ve barely mentioned it this week,” I say, curious.
“That’s because yours is far more interesting.” He looks over to Lottie, who’s examining some of the butterflies up close. “I hope you know, your mom is a creative genius.”
“He’s exaggerating,” I protest, but Josh insists.
“She’s the only one keeping everyone from losing their minds over this wedding. Bugs, slime, rainstorms… they’re no match for her.”
“Mom can do anything,” Lottie says matter-of-factly. “It can be pretty annoying sometimes. I could never just pretend to forget about a school project when I was little, because she’d always find a way to magic it together with, like, cardboard rolls and scrap fabric. Remember that volcano island?” she says, and I gasp.
“Volcano island! Pipe cleaners and paper mache. To this day, I think it’s my finest creation,” I tell Josh, before catching myself. School projects are the opposite of sexy, and in my experience, the minute a man starts seeing me as a mom, I can wave goodbye to wild passion.
Most guys just can’t hold the space to think of me as both.
But Josh doesn’t seem to skip a beat. “I always sucked at craft projects,” he says cheerfully. “I would pay off the artsy kids to do them for me, doing their homework in exchange.”
Lottie pauses. “That’s a great idea,” she says, brightening.
“Uh oh,” Josh sends me an apologetic grin, as Lottie moves off to explore. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Don’t get lost!” I call after Lottie. She rolls her eyes.
“I have your location finder, a compass app, and a better sense of direction than you!” she calls back, before disappearing into the trees.
“She’s right,” I turn back to Josh. “It’s like a sixth sense.”
“Something we’ve got in common then,” he smirks, and I have to laugh.
We stroll through the sanctuary, past the lush flowers and trees. “She’s a great kid,” Josh says, and I smile.
