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When we settle on a grassy mound for a late picnic lunch, Hettie immediately claims the spot on Bree’s lap, snuggling contentedly against her as Bree strokes her soft blonde curls.
“Can we see the elephants after lunch?” Havana stands with her arms crossed, not ready for a break.
“Yes.” I place the lunch bag on the floor and hand Bree and the girls a bottle of water and food.
Havana plops down, leaning into Bree’s side as she digs into her sandwich with gusto. “I love elephants.”
“They might squirt water at you from their enormous noses,” Hettie exclaims.
“Their trunks,” I correct, but nobody is listening.
Havana giggles. “That would be funny.” She turns to me and asks, “Can they smell everything in the universe with those trunks?”
“I saw an elephant step on a car and squash it like a bug,” Hettie interrupts. “Squish.” She claps her hands together.
“Where did you see that?” I ask, concerned at what they are watching.
Bree turns and smiles. “It was a cartoon. And nobody was hurt making it.”
Hettie giggles as Bree tickles her sides. “You’re trying to get me into trouble.”
My heart clenches as I watch them and the picture they make. Sometimes it feels so natural, so right. She’ll make a beautiful mother when she finds the right man. I push away those thoughts.
One day she will. That day, my girls will be heartbroken.
Bree smiles as Hettie and Havana chat with her, and I know it’s the perfect opportunity to ask her to be my fake date.
Taking a deep breath, I meet Bree’s warm gaze and strangely, nerves suddenly flutter in my stomach.
Do it.
I clear my throat.
“You know I have a medical function tonight?” I begin, trying to keep a casual tone. “I could use a plus one to accompany me, if you’re available?”
“Me?” Her brows knit together. Her face turns a beautiful shade of red. “I can’t. I have nothing to wear. Plus, who would watch the girls?”
“Their grandparents are picking them up at five this afternoon,” I counter quickly. “I organized it yesterday when I realized how out of order I was to ask you to work on your night off.”
“You never told me.” She lets out a small huff. “And I’m fine with it.”
I press on. “Or you could help me out and come to the function.”
Havana pipes up around a mouthful of sandwich, grinning mischievously. “Are you going on a date with my daddy?”
“No,” Bree replies, aghast.
“Why not?” Havana persists.
Bree shoots me a flustered look. “It’s not a date. Your father needs a plus one. That’s all.”
“What’s a plus one?” Hettie asks, tilting her head quizzically.
“Daddy is one,” Havana explains matter-of-factly. “When he needs a plus one, it means he needs a date.”
Hettie’s face clears in understanding. “Ahh. So Bree and Daddy are going on a date.”
“No!” Bree and I protest in unison, perhaps a touch too vehemently.
