Page 27 of Forgotten Romance

We get to the campsite, and I can feel Davey’s stare burning into the side of my face. I’m sure it means nothing that we’re the only ones here.

The trees are stripped of leaves, and snow is lumped between the struggling grass poking through. But it’s already started melting, so I’m taking that as a good sign. Even Mother Nature is on my side.

About time someone was.

Our campsite is right on the water, which would have been a good thing in the summer but now feels way too exposed to the elements as I pull the car to a stop and look out at it. I’m wavering on the edge of taking us back home again when a picture of the four of us laughing around the fire as we cook s’mores flashes through my mind.

It’s going to be perfect. We can do this.

Then I get the whiff of something nasty.

“Urg … Van.” Of course he couldn’t have waited until we got all set up.

I glance over at Davey, who holds up his fist, and we rock, paper, scissors who’s going to change it.

It’s only when Davey loses and jumps out of the car that I remember I’m supposed to be making this weekend good for him and probably should have just dealt with the poop. Changing a stinky diaper does not set us off to a good start.

Okay. Tent. I can do that. The guy at the store said it’s a super-easy one to put together, which is a relief because I’ve never done it before, and truthfully, I want Davey to be kind of impressed that I’m capable of these sorts of things. I don’t just talk books and charm old ladies, thank you very much.

I unzip the bag it comes in and stand back to look at the overwhelming lump of canvas inside.

Right.

Tent.

We can do this.

I keep one eye on Kiera down by the water and pull everything out. It looks like more of the frame is already inside, so I follow the instructions step by step, and—holy fuck—it was easy. I’m mind-blown that the thing took almost no effort on my behalf.

Van goes tearing inside it as Davey comes over.

“Looks good.”

“Only the best for my family,” I say, throwing my arm around his shoulders.

His hand finds my back, and even through the layers of clothing, it’s comforting.

“So … camping.”

“Griff said they used to love it when Felix was little.”

“Griff’s behind this. Got it.”

“Do you … is this okay?” I turn to look at Davey. His face is so close to mine I get this wash of nerves deep in my gut. It’s been so long since I’ve seen his face up close like this, and my memory revels in his dark freckles, his long eyelashes, the flecks of warm brown in his dark eyes.

He gets that amused, indulgent expression I love so much. “We’ll make it work.”

Almost as soon as he says that, there’s a loud splash, and Kiera shrieks.

“Daddy!”

We race toward the water’s edge, where she’s slipped and landed on her butt in freezing cold water. Her coat is saturated, her boots are full, and her little teeth are knocking together as I hoist her up out of the water.

My sleeves are instantly soaked as I carry her back up to the car, starting to shiver myself.

“What were you doing?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even. I’m not going to yell at her for slipping, but come on, Kiera, we’re trying to get Daddy back here.

“There was a p-pretty rock.”

---