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Marigold…wanted to work with me? My heart practically leaped out of my chest.
But I kept my cool. If she saw even a hint of excitement. She’d be gone. I cleared my throat. “So, what are you thinking? That little artist buried deep down probably already has a whole Pinterest board of ideas.”
“You’ll do it?” Her expression was neutral, her lips pressed in a flat line, but I swore she sounded almost excited. I’d take it. This kind of reaction was an anomaly when it came to Marigold and me.
“Yeah.” I got caught on the sight of her lips, and instantly, like it had done a thousand times before, my mind took me back to the night at the drive-in. To the incredible way it felt just to be in her presence. “For the boys, of course,” I added.
She bit down on her lip, “Right, for the boys.”
And I swore I saw a tiny smile creeping up the corners of her mouth.
Thank God for Crock-Pots.
In a world where I ran from one place to another all day without a moment to breathe, let alone make fanciful, exotic dinners, my Crock-Pot was my salvation. I’d named him Davy Crock-Pot, but I kept that part to myself.
Slicing carrots, I watched Dallas and Miles work on the Lego set Luke had gotten them this week. I used to cringe when our friends or family purchased them a shared gift. It guaranteed tantrums and yelling and a whole lot of me repeating myself about the importance of sharing and taking turns.
However, over the years, the boys had created a system for gifts like this and perfected it. Miles put together the smaller pieces, and once he finished, Dallas placed those pieces in the right places.
It was so them. It made so much sense that I was a little mad I hadn’t thought of it first. Dallas was great at the big picture. He had this engineering mindset. The kid could look at something and see how it was made without ever breaking it apart. Miles loved details. He thrived when it came to putting together the tiniest things with the precision of a surgeon. My mom heart soared each and every time I caught them working together like this.
“So, Mom…” Dallas started.
Crap. The trepidation in his voice and the way he wouldn’t meet my eye made me think we were headed into Where do babies come from? territory. Or maybe a discussion about how many teeth alligators had.
“So, Dallas…” I parroted.
Miles was dutifully taking care of his portion, placing a sticker on a building window, while Dallas planted his forearms on the counter and leaned forward. “How did you and Dad meet?”
Miles piped up without looking away from his project. “I would also like to know.”
My stomach dropped. They’d asked me this long ago. Back then, though, they were too young to really care about the answer. They’d ask a question, and once I answered, Dallas would attempt a backflip off the couch, and that was that. They moved on.
“Why are you two being so curious now?” I asked, trying to ignore the nerves swirling inside me as I continued chopping. “You never really asked this stuff before.”
Miles opened his mouth to answer, but Dallas beat him to it. “Aunt Layla said she needed an idea for a meetup for characters in her book and asked if we’d help. We were going to ask Nana and Aunt Calla too.”
“Ooh, that makes sense.” They’d spent yesterday with Luke and Layla, and Layla was always talking about plot lines and characters. I cleared my throat and set the cutting board and knife next to the sink. “I moved here with Nanny when I was sixteen. I met your dad on the first day of school. He sat next to me in every class, even when he wasn’t supposed to.”
I had to hold back a chuckle at the memory of him arguing with our crabby math teacher. He swore he needed to sit next to me, or his equilibrium would be off. He was such a cocky little thing.
I continued. “We were friends for about a year before he finally asked me to go on a date, and—”
“Where did you go?” Miles asked, leaning forward, mimicking his brother’s posture.
“The drive-in. It’s about an hour from here. We ate fifty-cent corn dogs and watched Fast & Furious. After we graduated from high school, we went to college together. We got married a year later. We had this huge, fancy wedding. Spent way too much money on it, really. Looking back, we should have eloped in Vegas or something. After a while, we had you two…and yeah.”
I poured the chopped vegetables into the Crock-Pot, hopeful that the story would be enough to satisfy the boys. But when I turned back around, both boys were squinting at me.
“What?”
“Tell us more.”
I snorted. They could be the most curious little monkeys. I felt like a zookeeper 90 percent of the time. Except zookeepers got to leave the zoo and take breaks.
“Like what? That’s it.”
“Did you and Dad love each other?” Miles asked, his tone full of admiration and his eyes taking on a dreamy quality.
