Spencer immediately turns to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Give Lilo and Stitch lots of snuggles, okay?” he mutters against my stomach.
“You bet, honey. Snuggles every day.” I bend down and kiss the top of his head. “You have lots of fun and make sure you listen to Grandpa and Grandma.”
“Okay!” He’s already turning to his father.
Sofie is next, squeezing me tight. “I’ll miss you.”
“Miss you too, sweetheart. Remember you can call your dad or me any time—Grandma’s got a phone—but you’ll probably be too busy having fun. Don’t forget to take us some pictures.” I notice Mom coming down the steps, observing us closely. “Say goodbye to your dad, honey,” I whisper, before reluctantly letting her go.
I take a deep breath in and walk up to my mother, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Say hi for me in Kentucky.”
“Will do.”
I’m about to turn to Dad when I’m suddenly pulled into a tight hug. “Mom,” I manage, wrapping my own arms around her.
“I’ll take good care of them,” she mumbles before abruptly letting me go.
Dad is grinning when I get to him. “Keep your eyes on the road, Dad.”
“You do know your mother is driving, right?” he points out, wrapping an arm around me.
“Oh, I know. Why do you think I’m asking you?”
Dad is still chuckling as he hoists himself up in the passenger seat. He immediately rolls the window down and leans out. “We’ll be fine, Baby Girl.”
I’m swallowing down that lump long after the taillights disappear down the driveway.
Dad hasn’t called me that in decades.
Chapter Seventeen
Rafe
“I’m off to grab some groceries.”
I hit the button to mute the TV and have to twist my neck to see Taz standing at the bottom of the stairs, trying hard to avoid looking at me.
As soon as the RV had disappeared from view, she’d beelined it into the house and I heard her moving around upstairs when I walked in. I had one foot on the stairway to go up after her when I heard the pups scratching at the back door, so I took them out first.
When I’d come back in and things were quiet, I told myself maybe she was taking a nap. That was an hour and a half ago. Looking at her now, I’m wondering if maybe she was just avoiding me.
“I’ll come.”
“You don’t have to,” she says immediately, but I’m already getting up and turning off the TV.
She’s silent until we’re buckled in my truck and I start the engine. Then she mumbles something unintelligible.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” is her curt answer and I glance over. Her hands are clasped together in her lap and her mouth is tight. I leave the truck in park and turn in my seat.
“Taz…” Her eyes slide to me when I call her name. “You can relax, we’re only getting groceries.”
“It’s Sunday.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that,” I confirm, mildly puzzled.
“It’s after twelve.”
“I know that.” So far I’m not seeing the light.
She rolls her eyes up and sighs. “Church is out and everyone’s going to be at the grocery store,” she finally says, and her meaning starts dawning on me.
“So what? It’s not like this is the first time we’ve gone to the store together. Besides, we saw half the town when we went out for dinner last week,” I point out.
“Yes, but we had the kids with us before. Now it’s just…us.” She looks down at her hands in her lap and I reach over, covering them with one of mine.
“Since when does it matter to you what anyone thinks?” I ask in a gentle tone. “Taz?” I prompt her and her eyes come up to meet mine.
“It doesn’t,” she admits. “Not really.”
“Then what is it? I know something’s going on in that head of yours. Talk to me.”
She pulls her hands free. “Fine, I’m scared, okay? Of this…” she waves one back and forth, “…between us. Of crossing that line and if something goes wrong, never being able to go back to how we are now.”
“Why would you assume we wouldn’t work out?” I challenge her, knowing we’re getting to the heart of her concerns, and wanting it all out there.
She throws both hands up. “Oh, I don’t know: our differences, the kids, Nicky, my parents, there are so many potential pitfalls in this scenario. Do you really want me to list them all?”
“I’m well aware of the risks, but—” I don’t get to finish my thought.
“Rafe, what if we’re not nearly as compatible as we think we are?”
I bark out a laugh as I hook a hand behind her neck and pull her close, our faces inches apart. “Bullshit,” I whisper, right before I take her mouth. Her hand comes up and slides around my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, only further proving my point. When I lift my head, she slowly blinks her eyes open. “The sooner we get those groceries, the sooner we can be back home,” I point out.
I let her go, turn back in my seat, and put the truck in gear.
We’re almost down the driveway when she surprises me.
“Promise me, no matter what happens, I won’t lose the kids. That’s what scares me most of all,” she whispers, and I blindly grab for her hand.
“Never.”
She was right; looks like most of the town gets groceries after church on Sunday.
I took over driving the cart when Taz was wielding it almost like a battering ram, carving a path through the busy aisles. Ten minutes into this ordeal and my cheeks are hurting from smiling at the curious greetings—ranging from mild to overt—we receive along the way.
We’re almost home free, working our way down the last aisle, when a woman comes trotting up the other end, waving her hand.
“Jesus,” she pants, out of breath when she reaches us. “Been chasing you around the store, but this place is mayhem.”
“Hey, Meredith.” Taz smiles the first genuine smile of the day at the sight of the woman, who barely spares me a glance.
“I think I found it,” she announces, handing Taz the can in her hand. “Is this what you were looking for? Palm nut concentrate?”
“Yes! I can’t believe you carried it after all. Look,” Taz says, showing the can to me. I have no fucking clue what they’re on about, but I give her what I hope is an encouraging nod.
“I actually had to order it,” the woman clarifies. “A box of twenty-four cans. I hope that dish you cook is good and you do it often, because I don’t think there’s much call for the stuff in this town.”
Taz grins at her before turning to me. “Any objections to a regular diet of that Moambe Chicken I made when Mom and Dad were over for dinner?”
“Fuck no,” I answer instantly and her smile widens.
“Oh,” she suddenly swings back to the other woman. “Meredith, this is Rafe—Rafe, this is Meredith.”
“Nice to meet you,” the friendly brunette says before focusing her attention back on Taz. “Now that we’ve got introductions out of the way, am I getting an invitation for next time you make that…whatever chicken? I’m getting sick of my own cooking and Buck, my husband, would eat the ass out of a rhinoceros as long as you put in front of him.”