Page 39 of One Night with Number Nineteen

Faye’s gaze comes to mine as she forks up a bite of her pancake—she and Gray both got the banana bread variety, while Ollie and I opted for the whipped cream and chocolate chips (and plenty of syrup).

She winks, and surreptitiously, I rub my hand over my chest, at the ever-present ache.

It’s still there. Always there.

But maybe it’s a bit less painful today.

Because of Faye and Harper and Kailey and Luna.

Because there isn’t judgment in their eyes.

Nor in Lainey’s as her gaze flicks down to my hand, to the spot I just cleaned.

My lungs hitch as our eyes connect again, as I find the same warmth in her expression as she had in her office, as she leaned close and our lips almost collided. And it's almost as though that wound inside me gets a little smaller, as though stitches close up the edges—just a little bit.

“So will you?” Ollie asks, snapping me out of my head, drawing me back into the present.

I tear my gaze away from Lainey.

From the pull toward her that’s existed inside me from the moment I first met her, that’s grown deeper, stronger with every additional moment in her presence.

And I focus.

Because Ollie is smiling up at me expectantly.

And I realize I have no idea what he's talking about.

“Sorry, bud,” I tell him. “I was zoning out there for a minute. Could you tell me again?”

Thankfully he doesn’t get upset with me. Instead, he just nods and puts his sticky, syrupy hand on mine, saying, “Mom and I have a Christmas…” His face screws up. “Addition,” he finishes slowly.

“Tradition,” Lainey corrects gently.

His brows pull together as he concentrates on the word. “Tradition,” he repeats. “A Christmas tradition.” He smiles. “Wanna come?”

I still, trying to understand how two words from a four-year-old feel so big.

So important.

Maybe because he’s not asking me to do anything other than be there with him.

I want to say yes, but something has me stopping, has me glancing over at Lainey, searching her face for any indication that she might not want company.

Might not want my company.

But all I see is the possibility of something I’m not sure I can have.

Especially as my phone buzzes, my mom's name flashing on the screen.

“Sawyer’s probably busy,” Lainey interjects as I silence the call and shove it back into my pocket.

“What’s the tradition?” I ask, ignoring the buzzing cutting off…and starting up immediately again, acutely aware of Leo’s gaze on me.

Of Leo’s knowing gaze.

Of the truth he knows, the things I've shared with him.

My stomach knots.