Zan has an image as a badass to uphold. If she still has self-soothing issues, she wouldn’t want anyone—even her sisters—to know about it.
Maybe it’s a triplet thing, or a hazard of sharing a crib with two other people for the first few years our lives, but all three of us went through major trauma when we were first forced to sleep alone. Nanny Minnesota said the stuffed animals—each one carefully chosen from a shop in town and imbued with sleep-encouraging properties by a village woman who claimed to be a white witch—were the only things that could calm us down.
I’ve slept with Squishy Cheese, the camel, since I was a toddler. He has been cut open and re-stuffed four times, and he lost his right button-eye to a crevice in the floor years ago. His once-bright yellow fur is now the color of a smoker’s unwashed dentures, and he smells a little funny, but I love him.
He has been my comfort in times of trial, my confidante when I was certain no one could understand the unique torments of my soul, and my snuggle buddy for twenty-three years. I can’t imagine going to bed without Squishy Cheese tucked against my chest, holding my heart in place—not even to play it cool in front of a new lover. I left Thor alone in his bed and ran back home to sleep for the entire first year of our relationship, until I was sure he wouldn’t mock me or kick my stuffy out of bed for being ugly as sin.
I’ve never told another man about Squishy, and though I know it’s not that big a deal—certainly not as serious as pretending to be someone I’m not—my cheeks are still burning.
Shame is funny like that. Even when you know you have nothing to feel ashamed of, it can still sneak up on you, snatch you around the ribs, and shred all your cool.
“A stuffed animal,” Andrew finally says, staring me down as if he expects me to break and confess that I’m joking.
But I’m not. “Yes. I brought him with me. I haven’t slept a night without him since I was two years old.”
Frowning, Andrew nods. “What’s his name? It’s a he, you said?”
“Yes, he’s a he.” I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn’t seem to be poking fun. “His name is Squishy Cheese. He’s a camel.”
Andrew’s brows pinch even closer together. “And the camel is named after cheese because…?”
“Because he was yellow. And soft. And I was two.” I point my spoon at Andrew’s face as his shoulders begin to shake. “Don’t laugh. I’m serious. I don’t know if I can give him up! Even when I’m married.”
“I’m not laughing,” he says, even as his chuckle vibrates the air.
“You are.” I cross and re-cross my legs with a bob of my shoulders. “But that’s fine. You’re the one who’s going to be married to a woman who can’t sleep without her security stuffy. You’re a part of this problem, like it or not.”
Still laughing, he puts a hand on my knee, and even that innocent touch is enough to make the flush heating my cheeks move lower, creeping down my neck. “There is no problem. I’m sure I’ll love Squishy Cheese as much as you do.”
I press my lips together and shake my head. “No, you won’t. He smells funny.”
Andrew tips his head in acknowledgment. “Well, to be fair, so do you. And I like you just fine.”
Startled laughter bursts from my lips as I smack his shoulder. “I do not smell funny! Take that back, jerk. If anyone smells funny, it’s you. Especially after a meal, once you’ve gotten oatmeal and egg all over yourself.”
“All right, I take it back,” he says, laughing harder, the sound making my heart swell.
Andrew is always handsome, but when he laughs, you can hear how beautiful he is on the inside. It’s a special sound, and he’s a special man…my prince.
Only he’s not mine. And I realize too late that I should have substituted Lizzy’s Flim Flam, the flamingo, for my own stuffed animal. Now, Andrew is going to be expecting a camel, and there’s no way he’ll forget or mistake one for the other.
But there’s no way he’s going to mistake Lizzy for me, either.
Maybe if I’d walled myself up in my room the entire time I was here, but not now. Now, Andrew knows me and I know him, and if I’m not mistaken, we’re on the verge of something extraordinary.
Something that only happens every once in a great long while.
Something I wasn’t sure I would ever find again after Thor broke my heart.
Andrew leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead and whispering, “You smell beautiful. You are beautiful, and on the day you decide you want to share my bed, I will welcome you and any inanimate objects you’d like to bring with you.”