Daisy set down her fork. “This is kind of crazy, isn’t it?”
I grinned. “Little bit.”
“Telling you I wasn’t interested in a long-distance relationship wasn’t some kind of power play. I hope you know that.”
“I never thought it was. I’m not a big fan of long-distance relationships either.”
“Any second thoughts?” she asked lightly.
Maybe she thought I’d lost my mind last night and had come to my senses in the light of day.
“None,” I said.
“Okay, then,” she said, smiling at me.
After we finished eating, I helped Daisy clear the table and then walked into the living room to grab my bag, which I’d left on the floor near the couch. Elliott was playing with a toy flashlight that also made noise.
“I’ll see you later, Elliott. Have fun at the park.”
“Bye, Bwooks,” he said.
Daisy walked me to the door.
“I’m going to try to get on the road by two,” I said. “I’ll stop back on my way out of town.”
“We’ll be here.”
I kissed her good-bye and as I turned to go she said, “Brooks?”
I turned back around. “Yes?”
“I just want you to know that you’ve made me really happy,” she said. “You’re turning your life upside down for me, and I’ll do everything I can to make you glad you did.”
At that moment, I understood what my dad meant about finding a woman who would make me happy and making her happy, too. “You already have.” I kissed her again. “See you in a little while.”
CHAPTER 41
DAISY
As I’d anticipated, Theo was overjoyed that Brooks would be returning.
“He tried to downplay it,” Brooks said when he came back that afternoon, “but you should have seen the look on his face. He was pretty much an open book.”
“What about Paul?” I asked. “Did you talk to him, too?” I couldn’t help but worry that maybe Paul had found someone to fill Brooks’s position. There was only one newspaper in town, and I didn’t know what Brooks’s options were if he wasn’t able to get his job back.
“Paul said I made his day. He seems very eager for me to get back to work.”
“That’s wonderful.” I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until I let it out.
“Is Elliott napping?” Brooks asked.
“Yes. He was exhausted. He did a lot of running around at the park.”
I hadn’t mentioned to Elliott that Brooks would be returning in a more permanent capacity. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe Brooks or doubted his commitment—his willingness to give up his job and his apartment had cemented that. But Elliott’s grasp of the situation was abstract enough that I thought it might confuse him. Better to let Elliott believe that Brooks had never left in the first place than to muddy the waters now.
“I dropped by the police station and talked to Jack Quick,” Brooks said after we sat down in the living room. “They haven’t brought Dale Reber in for questioning yet.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“They can’t find him. The person who answered the door at his place claimed he wasn’t there and they didn’t know where he was. The police made a few follow-up visits, but no one will come to the door now at all.”
“Can’t Jack get a warrant to search his home?”
“Not without probable cause. Warrants require facts, and at this point all we’re really going on is a hunch.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” Brooks said. “He’ll turn up eventually, and when he does they’ll bring him in.”
“I hope so.”
“What do you think about coming to my dad’s for Thanksgiving? Or do you already have plans?”
“Pam and Shane invited us to join them at Pam’s aunt’s house, but I said no because it’s a long drive and I have to work on Friday. I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner for Elliott and me, but I can cook it at your dad’s house just as easily as I can here.”
Brooks looked alarmed. “I hope you don’t think that’s why I asked you.”
“No. I’m just being practical. Besides, I’ll need some help. I feel compelled to mention that I run a very tight ship in the kitchen. If you don’t toe the line, I’ll give you all the crap jobs like peeling potatoes and reaching your hand into the turkey for that little bag of giblets.”
“Okay,” he said, grinning. “You can be in charge in the kitchen.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, slowly and deeply, leaving no question about who would be in charge elsewhere. After a few minutes he shifted his weight and moved us so that we were now lying on the couch facing each other. I brought my hands up, cupped his jaw, and kissed him back, thrilled that he was mine to touch, to kiss, to hold.
“How long until Elliott wakes up?” he asked.
“Any minute.”
I might as well have said “Take me now, Brooks!” because instead of being deterred by Elliott’s imminent arrival, Brooks kicked it up a notch and fluttered kisses from my ear down to my throat. When his mouth latched onto the tender skin and he began to suck and nibble and bite, I gasped. We were both breathing harder by then, and the temperature in the room felt like it had risen ten degrees.
Brooks pulled the neckline of my T-shirt to the side, trying to reach more of my skin. The limited access must have frustrated him because he abandoned that tactic and pushed the T-shirt up from the bottom, exposing my chest.
His hands were everywhere. He brought his lips back to mine and kissed me while stroking my nipple with his thumb. We both moaned when it hardened. Brooks pulled the cup of my bra to the side and traced my nipple with his tongue. I was in such a state by then that I could hardly string two cohesive thoughts together. There was something about Elliott I needed to remember.
At some point during all this, I’d wedged my thigh between Brooks’s legs, and he seemed awfully pleased about it. If this went any further, one of us was going to come undone right there on the couch.
Possibly both of us.
That’s when Elliott’s door creaked open, which to a single mother is the equivalent of being doused with ice water. I sat up, made sure my clothing was in the right place, and said, “Hey, buddy. All done with your nap?”
His hair stuck up in back like a rooster and his eyes were sleepy. He walked over, crawled into my lap, and laid his head down on my shoulder.
I might not have missed a beat, but Brooks hadn’t recovered quite so quickly. He’d managed to move to an upright position, but his eyes were still half-closed and his hair looked like a woman had been running her fingers through it. Gently, I covered his lap with a throw pillow. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“My fault,” he said. “You did tell me we were on borrowed time.”
“To be continued,” I promised.
Brooks smiled. “I’m counting the days.”
“Are you with us yet, Elliott?” I asked.
He lifted his head from my shoulder. “Can I have some milk?”
“Sure.” I settled Elliott on the couch and went to the kitchen.
When I returned, Brooks said, “I better get going. It’s almost three.” He looked at Elliott. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, okay?”
“Okay,” Elliott said. He turned his attention back to his milk.
I walked Brooks to the door. “Drive safe,” I said. “Call me when you get there.”
“I’ll call you from the road.” He leaned in and kissed me. “Be careful.”
I reached up and smoothed his hair back into place. “I will. See you soon.”
CHAPTER 42
DAISY
Despite threatening Brooks with the task, I was the one who actually had to stick my hand inside the turkey and pull out that disgusting little bag of giblets, which I promptly threw away. My grandmother had always done something with them, and her gravy was the best I’d ever eaten, but I had no idea how she made it and n
o real desire to learn. We’d have to make do with gravy from a jar.
Brooks had gotten in at ten last night. He’d hired movers to bring some of his things and they’d shown up at his apartment late, which had set him back a few hours. I didn’t care. I was just happy he was here.
I’d decided to prep the turkey at home and put it in the oven at Theo’s. Brooks was coming over in two hours to pick us up, so after I slid the roasting pan into the refrigerator, I bathed Elliott and explained why he had to wear a pair of corduroys and a button-down shirt instead of athletic pants and a T-shirt.
“It’s Thanksgiving. We need to dress nice when it’s a holiday. You can watch the parade while I’m in the shower, okay?” I turned on the TV.
“Whoa,” he said, pointing at the TV screen. “Snoopy is huge.”
I put fresh sheets on the bed, and when I was in the shower, I paid special attention to any area that needed to be buffed, moisturized, or shaved. Afterward, wrapped in a towel, I stood in front of my dresser and selected a black lace bra-and-panty set. The outfit I’d chosen—a pair of leggings and a long sweater, with knee-high boots—was the perfect mix of dressy and casual. It needed something else, though, so I pulled a silk scarf from a hanger and looped it around my neck. I left my hair down.
Perfect.
In the two weeks leading up to Brooks’s return, we had made good use of our phones and computers. I received several texts from him throughout the day, at least one e-mail, and we ended the evening on the phone. “Is there someone you’re leaving behind?” I asked one night.
“You mean was I dating anyone?”
“Yes.”
“There was a woman I saw fairly regularly, but we weren’t exclusive. She wasn’t looking for a commitment, so it was mostly a relationship of convenience. The last time I saw her was about a week before I moved home to be with my mom.”
“So you haven’t seen her since you moved back to San Francisco?”
“No. I kept making excuses for why I couldn’t get together. You see, there was this other woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.”
“Aw. That’s very sweet.”
“I did call her the other day to tell her about you and to let her know I was moving. She wished me the best.”
“Good,” I said firmly.
“What about you?” he asked.
“A doctor I work with asked me if I’d like to go to dinner sometime. I told him I was no longer available.”
“Be sure to let all the doctors know,” Brooks said, laughing.
“I can’t wait to see you again.”
“Me, too.”
“And kiss you again. You’re an excellent kisser.”
“Pretend that I’m kissing you right now,” he said. “Your lips. Your throat. Everywhere. Does that feel good?”
“Brooks McClain, are you trying to initiate phone sex with me?”
“Well, if you have to ask I must not be doing a very good job.”
“Oh no, you’ve definitely piqued my interest. I just wanted to make sure. I don’t have any experience with this particular act.”
“Hmmm, a virgin,” Brooks said.
Aware that his voice had gotten softer, huskier, I matched his tone. “Well, just the phone part. When you’re the mother of a three-year-old, I think it’s safe to assume the virginity ship has sailed. But if I’d known about this in advance, I would have dressed better. Maybe lit a candle.”
“Let me tell you the great thing about phone sex, sweetheart,” he said. “You can pretend you’re wearing whatever you want. I’ll never know.”
I looked down at my pajama pants and tank top. “I’m wearing a black push-up bra and matching, lacy underwear.”
“I’m getting a very nice visual,” he said. “Now I want you to take the bra off very slowly.”
Wait. Is he serious?
It turned out that he was.
Afterward I said to him, “I wish you were here.”
“Soon,” he promised. “I’ll be there soon.”
*
And now he was here. He knocked on the door at eleven a.m., and I opened it wide. Once he stepped inside, he pulled me into his arms and held me tight.
“I missed you,” I said.
“I missed you, too.”
“Hi, Bwooks.”
“Hey, buddy. Are you ready to go?”
Elliott hopped off the couch. “I need my bag of toys. Mama said I could bring them.”
Once we loaded everything into Brooks’s Jeep, I grabbed Elliott’s car seat out of my Camry and strapped him into it.
“I wike this car,” Elliott said. “I’m sitting up so high. I can see everything!”
I slid the turkey into the oven immediately upon our arrival at Theo’s.
“How long does it need?” Brooks asked.
“About four hours. Maybe a little more. You don’t have to start peeling those potatoes for a while yet.”
“You’re very funny,” Brooks said. He leaned in for a long kiss. “You’re also beautiful.”
“You look quite handsome yourself.” Brooks was wearing flat-front khakis and a tailored, navy-blue jacket with a checked, button-down shirt underneath. I’d almost become accustomed to Brooks wearing jeans since that’s what he’d been wearing the last two times I’d seen him, but looking at him today reminded me how well this man could dress.
“What’s next?” Brooks asked after we placed the rest of the food in the fridge.
“Nothing right now. I made green-bean casserole because Elliott loves it, but we’ll need to wait on the potatoes until the turkey is closer to being done. I talked to your dad earlier this week. He insisted on taking care of everything else. I just need to figure out what time to put it all in the oven.”
“It sounds like we’re set for a while then.”
“Did everything go okay with the move?” I asked.
“Once the movers finally showed up, it did.” Brooks had brought his queen-size bed from his apartment and his leather couch and big-screen TV. “I love my dad, but if I thought I could rent my own apartment without hurting his feelings, I would.”
“Now you know how I felt living with my grandmother after my divorce.”
Brooks nodded. “You know what? I actually do.”
“I’ll tell you what I told myself back then: it won’t be forever.”
“That’s a good way to look at it,” Brooks said.
It was awfully quiet and Brooks and I had just enjoyed a nice conversation without interruptions, which meant something had caught my son’s attention. “Where are Elliott and your dad?”
“They’re in the backyard,” Brooks said.
Elliott had cornered Theo the moment we walked in the door. I looked out the kitchen window, which faced the backyard, and spotted them. The weather was sunny and mild, and I was glad Elliott wouldn’t have to be cooped up inside all afternoon. “What are they doing?” I asked Brooks.
“Get this. My dad rigged him a fishing pole with a plastic fish on the end. He’s going to teach Elliott how to cast it into that bucket.”
“That is the nicest thing he could have done for Elliott.”
“When I told you at the funeral that he liked kids, I really meant it.” Brooks looked away for a minute. “My mom loved kids, too. I feel bad that she never got to hold one of mine.”
Oh, God.
“Daisy?” Brooks said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I was watching Elliott. That fish is not landing anywhere near the bucket.”
You should tell him now.
“He just needs a little more practice.”
“Yes. That’s it. How about some football?” I asked.
“Come with me,” Brooks said, taking me by the hand. “You can sit on my leather couch. It doesn’t remotely match the rest of the furniture, but it’s comfortable as hell.”
“Don’t get too comfortable. You’ve still got some potatoes to peel.”
Our dinner turned out beautiful
ly. Brooks opened a bottle of wine shortly before we ate and kept an eye on my glass throughout the meal, which we lingered over for some time.
“How’s your turkey, Elliott?” I asked.
“I wike it. And those beans you made for me. And Feo’s stuffing.”
“I didn’t actually make the stuffing,” Theo said. “I bought it.”
Elliott looked at Theo. “That’s okay.”
“How about my potatoes?” Brooks asked.
“They are the bestest, Bwooks.”
I patted Brooks’s arm. “Well, I guess we know what your job will be from now on.”
“I didn’t think that through, did I?” he said, grinning. Brooks was adorable when he grinned.
“I’d like to propose a toast,” Theo said. He stood up, holding his wineglass out in front of him. “To the memory of those who can’t be with us today, and to making new memories with those who are.”
Brooks and I raised our wineglasses. “Cheers,” we said. Elliott raised his glass of chocolate milk and shouted, “Cheers” in a decidedly less somber tone than we had used.
I would not have been able to make that toast for fear of upsetting Theo and Brooks. Their loss was more recent than mine, and while the grief over losing my grandmother was still present, it wasn’t nearly as raw as theirs had to be. Theo was either very stoic or he preferred to keep his feelings private. Either way, it was a beautiful toast.
I stood and began clearing the table. Brooks helped while Theo cut slices of pumpkin pie at the table.
“I wike pie,” Elliott said as he sipped on a seemingly bottomless glass of chocolate milk, courtesy of Brooks.
“Would you like whipped cream?” Theo asked, holding up the kind you sprayed from a can.
“Yes I would,” Elliott said.
Theo squirted a big mound of whipped cream onto Elliott’s pie.
When Brooks tried to refill my wineglass for the third time I held up my hand and said, “No more for me. A third glass would probably put me to sleep.”
“Oh, there will be none of that,” Brooks said as he laughed quietly and removed my glass altogether.
After we finished dessert, Brooks and his dad sipped slowly on whiskey as we watched the end of a football game. Elliott drew a picture for Theo and played with his toys, but his eyelids started to droop around eight, and we gathered up our things and got ready to leave.