“Exhausting,” I say. Lila laughs through her nose. “You know that book If You Give A Mouse A Cookie?”
“Yeah.”
“It was like that.” I take a seat on the bed, the mattress springier than I remember. I make a mental note to have a new one delivered ASAP.
“That’s our daughter,” Lila says, folding a sweater and placing it in a dresser drawer.
“I should probably get back,” I say, yawning. I’ve been in town four days now, overseeing all the final details, and I’ve got a room at the Marriott on the square. Despite what transpired between us this afternoon, I don’t want to be presumptive.
“Get back where?”
“I’ve got a room in town,” I say.
“What? No. You’re not sleeping in a hotel. This house is just as much yours as it is mine.”
“The house is yours,” I say. “Just so we’re clear.”
“I want you to stay,” she says as she crawls across the bed and curls into my arms, resting her arm across my chest as she nestles against me.
The springs squeak with each movement.
I vow to make the new bed agenda priority one first thing in the morning.
“Tell me everything I’ve missed the last ten years,” she says, voice low as she stifles a yawn.
I close my eyes for just a moment, and suddenly I’m transported all over again. She’s the eighteen-year-old girl with pinwheel eyes who can’t stop playing with my hair and I’m the nineteen-year-old boy who can’t take his eyes off her for more than a minute at a time.
When I open my eyes and look down, I find her sound asleep. Her breathing is steady and her beautiful face wears the most peaceful expression, like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
And she shouldn’t.
As long as we have each other, we’ve got everything we’ll ever need.
Chapter 62
Lila
I wake to the smell of bacon and eggs Saturday morning, the other half of the mattress vacant. Sliding my phone off the nightstand, I check the time.
Holy shit.
I don’t remember the last time I slept in until ten o’clock.
Crawling out of bed, I make my way to the kitchen, following the savory scents wafting in the air along with the sound of MJ’s cherubic giggles.
“And that’s your Ancient Egypt Fact of the Day,” Thayer says as he flips a pancake.
“That’s disgusting. I can’t believe they ate moldy bread,” MJ says, pinching her nose and sticking out her tongue as she colors in a coloring book I’ve never seen before.
“You should try it. Maybe you’ll like it,” Thayer says, though I know he’s messing with her.
“Only if you try it first,” she says.
Touché.
“Hey, Mom,” MJ says.
Thayer turns around, a spatula in his hand. “How’d you sleep?”
“Like a rock,” I say.
“How do you sleep like a rock?” MJ asks.
“Figure of speech,” I say, ruffling her messy dark hair.
Thayer carries a plate of pancakes to the table, and I notice they’re filled with an abundance of chocolate chips and covered in powdered sugar, but I let it slide because this is a momentous occasion, and momentous occasions deserve chocolate chips and powdered sugar.
“Mom, why is there writing on that wall over there?” MJ asks, pointing.
“Thayer did that,” I say, winking at him.
“Okay, I wrote on the wall one time and I got in huge trouble. You took my markers for a week!” She spears a piece of pancake on her fork.
“It wasn’t a week. More like three days,” I say. “Not that it matters. You were four when you did that. I’m surprised you even remember.”
“How old was Thayer when he wrote on the wall?” she asks.
“Nineteen,” he answers. “Old enough to know better.”
“Then why’d you do it?” she asks.
“Because I wanted to impress this girl I liked …” He carries two breakfast plates to the table and places one in front of me. “She liked this cottage and I liked her, so I promised it to her and I wrote it on the wall so she knew I was serious.”
“Who was the girl?” she asks.
Thayer and I laugh, exchanging looks.
“Me, silly,” I say.
“Ohhhhh.” MJ perks up, as if it all makes sense now.
Under the table, Thayer’s fingertips graze the top of my knee until I slide my hand into his.
Thank God he’s persistent. It kind of equals out my stubbornness.
Ten years and a rollercoaster ride later, I’m finally realizing that all of our differences were a good thing. His strengths and weaknesses balanced my strengths and weaknesses.
It turns out all of those opposites I was so worried about were the very things that made us perfect for each other.
Epilogue
5 years later
Thayer
“The twins are en route,” I say to Lila as she pushes our two-year-old, Benjamin, in the swing that hangs from an oak tree in the backyard. “They just called. Landed a little bit ago and finally got their luggage. Said they should be here within the hour.”