Page 63 of Lillian

“Of course, don’t worry about it,” he answers right away.

The pitter patter of tiny feet hitting the laminate has both our heads looking toward the sound. Grace walks right up to us, but instead of turning to me, she raises her arms to Lincoln, asking to be picked up.

The little twinge of hurt the spikes in me is overshadowed by the joy of seeing Grace take to Lincoln so easily. And him to her. He’s really accepted her into his life with no reservations, and it’s made falling back in love with him that much easier.

Not that I’ve told him yet…

There have been a few times where I’ve wanted to, but the words get stuck in my throat. Something stops me. Fear, maybe. Of rejection. Of the past repeating itself.

“Linc?” Grace murmurs with her head tucked into his shoulder.

He rests his cheek on the top of hers and murmurs back, “Yeah, munchkin?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?” He shoots me a questioning look.

“Oh, sweetie. I don’t think so.” I hate saying no to her, but if she’s starting to get sick, it’ll be easier to have her here with all her things and medicine. To have a routine.

“Please!” she begs me, and I can tell she’s about to get upset. There is no part of me ready to deal with a tantrum this morning.

“Yeah, please,” Lincoln copies mytoddler,sticking his bottom lip out.

How am I supposed to have the strength to say no to both of them?

“If you finish your milk and eat some pancakes, we can go.”

If you feel well enough to eat and drink, I’ll worry a little bit less about the fever,I think to myself.

A pout forms on her tiny lips, but she wiggles, trying to get down. Lincoln deposits her on one of the kitchen chairs while I grab a pancake from the stack and tear it up for her to eat.

“No,” she whines and pushes the plate away when I set it down in front of her.

“You don’t want to go to Lincoln’s?” I volley.

“You cut it up!” she accuses, kicking her legs in a dramatic fashion. Lord help me…

“You always want them cut up.” I try reasoning with her.

She’s having none of reason. “Nuh uh!”

Just as I feel myself starting to get upset, too, Lincoln swoops in. The cut up pancakes are replaced by one whole pancake with a drizzle of syrup on it. “How’s that?” he placates.

The tears dry up instantly, and she grabs her plastic fork to dig in.

“What do you say?” I prod Grace, and she mumbles a dismissive thank you to Lincoln.

Sometimes having a kid is exhausting. Guilt floods me at the thought, but then I’m wrapped up in a bear hug, a woodsy scent distracting my negative musings.

“You’re such a good mom,” he murmurs, somehow knowing exactly what to say to make me feel better.

And maybe it’s because he showed up in the middle of the night just because he missed me. Or maybe because seeing him with Grace has me feeling all kinds of emotionally vulnerable. Or maybe I just want to see his reaction, but I whisper, still buried in his chest, “I love you.”

Other than his hold tightening on me a little, he doesn’t give me any reaction. None that I feel, at least, because I’m too much of a coward to pull back and look at his face. Not until, a few seconds later, his chest starts to shake.

After a minute, I realize it’s himlaughing.

I yank back to stare up at him incredulously. The mirth in his hazel eyes and sexy tilt of his lips has me on edge. “What?” I grumble. “What’s so funny?”

His head tilts back as he laughs and looks back down at me. “It’s about time.”

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