We’d spend most mornings exploring the many trails, and on two occasions drove into Potosi to replenish our supplies. The afternoons we generally lazed around the campsite, and even with the leisurely pace of our days, we inevitably ended up in bed early.
The plan for today is to have a good breakfast, clean up, pack up, and head home. Sadly. Back to the daily grind. I’ve already decided that next year we’ll do two weeks.
“Five minutes, guys!”
“Okay!” Taz calls back.
I turn the bacon and flip the pancakes as Stitch trots up, drawn by the smell of food. “No bacon for you, bud. You’ve had your breakfast.” Not deterred, he flops down on his belly, his head resting on his front paws as he follows every move closely. Waiting for something to drop.
Sofie is the first out of the water, which is perfect, because there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to her about.
“Almost ready?” she asks, dropping her soaked life vest on the ground.
“Yes, hang that on the tree to dry, will you? And grab the orange juice from the cooler on your way back, please.”
Even though she grumbles under her breath, she does as I ask before sitting down at the picnic table. She’s had some moments this past week, but nothing more than an occasional sharp look or roll of the eyes when she caught Taz and I touching. We’ve been careful with public displays of affection, but I’ve held her hand on hikes, and occasionally kissed the top of her head, much like I do with the kids.
“I wanted to ask you something,” I start, my back to her as I pour more batter into the pan, trying to be as casual as I can. “How would you like having a bathroom of your own?” When I turn to look I see her eyes have gone big.
“Really? Like…how? Are we moving?”
“No. We’re not moving. We’re thinking of making some changes upstairs. Starting with you maybe moving into the master bedroom. We could look at painting it a different color; maybe get new curtains. And the best part is, it comes with the big bed.”
“Can I have sleepovers?” she asks immediately, and I bite off a grin.
“Sure, every now and then, but you’ll have to wait until the work is finished.”
“Are you going to sleep in my old room?”
I note she’s already calling it her ‘old’ room, which I guess means she’s on board with the plan. So far.
“Actually, that’s the next part. I want to turn your room and the spare bedroom into one bigger bedroom with a bathroom for Taz and me.”
She seems to ponder on that while I flip the last pancakes. “But what happens if you guys have a baby? Where is it gonna go?”
I almost drop the spatula from my hand. I hadn’t even considered that possibility.
“We’re having a baby?” Spencer asks, as he too drops his life vest in a puddle on the ground.
From the corner of my eye I see Taz—who was coming up right behind him—freezing on the spot. “There’s no baby,” I inform my son, and by default Taz, “but if you pick up that life vest and hang it to dry the way you know you’re supposed to, I’ll fill you in on what your sister and I were talking about.”
I note Taz keeps glancing at Sofie, as I catch both her and Spencer up on the conversation. Of course my son loses interest the moment I set his breakfast in front of him, but I seem to have Taz’s attention.
“So what about the baby?” Sofie persists.
It would appear my girl has got her jaws in something and is shaking it like the little terrier she can be.
“Honey, there’s no baby,” Taz tries.
“But what if there is? Lisa Brinkman is in my class and her mom just had another baby.”
Great. Now she’s glommed on to the idea of a little brother or sister.
“Let’s stick with the four of us for now, okay?” I suggest, hoping that ends the topic, but my daughter clearly isn’t done yet.
“I’m just saying…”
“Enough, Sofie.”
It’s not until after we finish breakfast, clean up, and send the kids to pack the toys in their backpacks, that I get Taz alone for a minute.
“Do you get the sense her head has been busy this past week?”
She snorts as I take the folding chairs from her and fit them in the back of the truck. “So I gather. I’m not sure if that makes me happy or concerned.”
“How’s that?” I ask, taking the cooler she hands me.
“Well, I guess it’s good she’s thinking of us as a family, but she may be creating expectations we can’t live up to.”
That statement gives me pause. “You’re saying you don’t want children? More children,” I correct myself, jumping down from the truck bed.
“I didn’t say that. I mean, you have two beautiful kids, I assumed…”
I grab her lightly by the shoulders and lean down so I’m eye to eye. “Don’t assume. Just because I haven’t really had a chance to think about more children doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want them. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She grabs on to my wrists with her hands and takes in a deep breath. “I might…some day.”
“Some day?” I tease, grinning at her responding eye roll.
“Yeah,” she taunts me right back. “If I find the right guy.”
She squeals when I bend down and put my shoulder in her stomach, lifting her off her feet. The dogs start jumping up and barking as I carry her toward the water.
“Rafe! Set me down!”
“What are you doing?” Sofie wants to know. Alerted by the dogs, she and her brother come crawling out of the tent when I march past.
“I think Taz needs another dip. The heat’s already gone to her head.”
The kids giggle and follow behind me while Taz continues to struggle against my hold.
“I just put on dry clothes, don’t you dare, Rafe Thomas!”
I stop right at the river’s edge.
“Give me a good reason not to toss you in, Natasha Boran.”
“All right, all right—I already have the right guy.”
I slowly let her slide down my front until her feet touch the ground, but I don’t let go of her. “And?”
Her indignant huff only makes me chuckle, and she finally gives in. “And I love you.”
“A good start, but not what I’m after.”
She bulges her eyes at me before darting a glance at the kids, who are following our interaction closely.
“And…the rest is up for discussion.”
I grin down at her before planting a quick hard kiss on her lips.
“Ewww,” comes from the peanut gallery.
Chapter Thirty
Taz
“Jesus. I need another drink.”
Kathleen wipes her eyes with her cocktail napkin.
“Do us another round, yeah,” Meredith instructs the waitress, who’s been keeping an eye on our table with no small amount of interest. I can’t blame her; three teary-eyed women sniffling in their drinks in the middle of a bar draw attention.
I just finished telling them about my talk with Sofie under the stars.
“I don’t want to get hammered,” I warn Meredith, who waves me off.