“Do you need help with your seat belt?” I murmured, my voice pitched low.
Wordlessly, she shook her head.
My gaze dropped to her mouth, the rosy tone of her lips tempting me. Her teeth sank into the plump flesh of her bottom lip, and I tugged gently, freeing it from the attack. When my finger touched her mouth, she gasped quietly, the action causing her tongue to flick against my skin.
Instantly, the thoughts of what her tongue would feel like pressed to mine filled my head. How her mouth would taste as I kissed her. The way her hair would feel grasped in my fist as I explored her.
It was only when Sammy clapped her hands, giggling at the way I had lifted her mom into the truck that I realized how close I was bent over Liv. How rapid her breathing had become, mine matching her fast inhales. Had I dropped a mere few inches, our mouths would have fused together.
With a start, I realized how much I wanted that to happen.
Blinking, I stepped back, shaking my head to clear it. Liv’s gaze was shocked, confused, perhaps even a little disappointed as I met her eyes, then shut the truck door. I adjusted myself as I walked around the back of the truck to the driver’s side, wondering if this was, after all, a good idea. Spending more time with Liv and Sammy—it could prove to be complicated.
I hated complicated.
Yet, despite my misgivings, I found I wanted it anyway.
When we reached the diner, Liv scrambled out of the truck before I could get out and help her. Sammy raised her arms, letting me lift her from the truck. Once again, her tiny hand rested in mine as we walked into the restaurant. Her other hand was clutched in Liv’s as she chatted away. Her dialogue never ceased the entire meal, filling the silence that had fallen between Liv and me.
Our eyes met several times, holding briefly, then skittering away. I felt the occasional press of Liv’s knees against mine under the table as she would shift or turn to help Sammy with her meal. I observed her carefully as I sipped my coffee and devoured two grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches, plus a salad, and most of Sammy’s fries. Liv was an attentive mother, smiling and responding to Sammy’s never-ending questions and queries.
“Where does bacon come from, Mommy?”
“How come ketchup is red?”
“Can you push me on the swing, Mr. Van, when we get to the park?”
I startled hearing my name, but I quickly agreed.
“I can do that.”
“Will you catch me when I slide?”
“Sure.”
“Maybe you could come on the monkey bars with me.”
I had been to the park before, and I knew the playground. It wasn’t far from my house, and I liked to run through it during my spare time, often sitting on a bench and watching families together and imagining having one of my own. At times, I fought down the swell of sadness at my thoughts.
“I think I’m too big for the monkey bars, Mouse. But I’ll watch you.”
“Okay,” she agreed easily, finishing her sandwich, or at least most of it. Crusts, she informed me, were yuck. She giggled loudly when I shook my head in disagreement and made a point of eating mine first, telling her they were the best part. Liv laughed quietly when Sammy nibbled at the crisp edges, testing them out. Liv rolled her eyes at me as we shared the quiet joke of watching Sammy.
It was an oddly intimate moment.
At the park, I caught Sammy as she hurtled down the slide. Pushed her as high as I dared on the swing, listening to her squeals of delight. Made her and Liv laugh as I hung from the monkey bars, holding my legs as high as they would go, my feet still hitting the ground. I made funny monkey noises, then chased Sammy around the trees, threatening to catch and tickle her until she begged for mercy.
Finally, we grabbed ice cream cones and sat on the bench eating them. Sammy still had lots to tell me, although she had talked nonstop the entire afternoon.
“Sammy, take a breath,” Liv admonished her. “Stop talking Van’s ear off, and eat your ice cream.”
Sammy frowned, tilting her head from side to side to study me.
“He still has both ears, Mommy. I can’t be talking that much,” she replied.
My laughter was loud, making Liv jump and causing Sammy to giggle.
“It’s all good, Liv. I like hearing Mouse talk.”
Sammy finished her ice cream and jumped to her feet. “Can I go back on the swings?”
“Yes,” Liv said. “Make sure I can see you at all times.”
“Okay. Watch me, Mr. Van!”
“I will, kiddo.”
I slid over on the bench closer to Liv. I finished my ice cream and stretched, letting my arm rest on the back of the bench. We watched Sammy soar high, leaning back so her hair trailed low into the dust of the sand below her.
“Oh God, she is gonna need a bath and a shower tonight,” Liv muttered.
“Is she always this full of energy?”
“Feels like it. She’s a busy little girl.”
“She’s awesome.”
Liv smiled, looking downward. I noticed she did that a lot when she smiled. As if she didn’t want to share her smile. I wanted her to share it with me.
I stretched, stifling a groan at the effort.
“Are you still in pain?” she asked quietly.
“I always am. Some days are worse than others. I’ll survive.”
“You shouldn’t have played on the monkey bars,” she scolded. “Sammy is old enough to understand the word no and why you couldn’t have done so.”
I waved my hand, dismissing her concern. “It’s fine, Liv. I try not to let it affect my life. If I give in, I’m done for. Swinging a little on the monkey bars didn’t harm me. Mouse got a kick out of it, and I enjoyed it.”
She pursed her lips and stayed silent. She finished her cone and wiped her fingers. “Thank you for being so kind today, Van.”
“Not a problem. It was fun.”
Liv made a strange noise in the back of her throat but didn’t say anything else.
I watched Sammy for a few more minutes. She jumped from the swing over to the monkey bars, chatting with another little girl. Both of them hung upside down, swinging and talking as if it was normal. I had to chuckle.
Liv groaned. “I hate it when she does that, but she does it anyway.”
“She’s being a kid.”
“Hmm.” She leaned back and crossed her legs. Her hair brushed against my arm, the strands soft. I had to resist bunching it in my hand.
I cleared my throat. “Her dad around?”
Liv scoffed. “No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We’re better off without him. Both of us.”
The bitterness and pain in her voice were blatant.
“Then I’m glad he’s out of the picture. How long ago did you divorce?”
Liv shifted, turning toward me. “We were never married. I was young when I met Chris. Looking for myself, for love. He seemed great—charming and nice. Interested.”
“But?” I asked.
“It took me a while to see the real him. He was very good at hiding it. He was anything but nice underneath. Demanding, exacting, controlling. Mean.”
My hands curled into fists. “Did he lay hands on you, Liv?”
“No. He used words to hurt.” Her eyes focused on something behind me as she gathered her thoughts. “My mom said I was following in her footsteps. My father was the same way, and it took her a long time to walk away. When I discovered I was pregnant, I told Chris. He wasn’t happy.”