Page 42 of One Night with Number Nineteen

“Like what?”

“Well, like spinach and apples.”

“What about carrots? I love”—Ollie rubs his belly and exaggerates the word to approximately five syllables—“carrots.”

Sawyer’s eyes dance. “Carrots are good too.”

“What about…”

I sit and listen to them talk as we finish eating (and miracle of miracles, Ollie actually tries a few pieces of broccoli). Then I continue to sit as Sawyer insists I stay where I am while he pulls up a chair to the sink, and he and Ollie do the dishes together.

When they go for another round of cinnamon rolls, I pop some popcorn (because what’s a movie without popcorn?) then move to the living room to cue up the latest kids movie on the TV.

This one has talking dogs fighting crime and even though Ollie’s seen it a half-dozen times already, he’s amped to see it again.

I voted for a musical. Then again, I always vote for a musical.

Alas, I was overruled.

This time by Sawyer.

Who’s laughing at something my son is saying while he’s doing dishes in my kitchen.

“What am I doing?” I whisper, straightening on a sigh. Our Christmas tree twinkles in the corner, sending rainbows of lights across the room, onto the gaily wrapped packages beneath, onto the couch my friends moved in for me.

Sawyer…it’s messy.

Dangerous.

It barely been a year since Ben died and I have a man in my house who I want⁠—

What?

I shove back my hair and try to figure out what I want.

Unfortunately, I just…come up blank.

Or maybe it’s that I know what I want already.

And it’s fucking terrifying.

Groaning softly, knowing none of that matters right now. We have an addition to keep. My lips twitch and I start to turn to the kitchen, intending to retrieve the popcorn that’s now filled the house with its yummy smell, but something outside the window catches my focus.

A reflection.

An animal moving in the shadows.

Something else?

I squint and try to discern⁠—

“You okay?”

I jump at the sound of Sawyer’s voice and whirl around, shaking off the odd feeling. “I’m fine. I just thought I saw⁠—”

Before I can finish convincing myself that it’s nothing, he shoves the bowl of popcorn in my hands and nudges me toward the couch. “Stay here with Ollie.”

Then he’s gone, disappearing out the front door.