Page 104 of Sweet Madness

She quietly leaves my side and settles at a table near the window, placing the stuffed bear on the seat next to her. I watch her for a moment and silently wish that this girl will have only happy days from now on.

I turn slightly towards Shaw, who is still watching Cleo with a furrowed brow, and let my expression soften.

“Shaw,” I begin gently, my voice carrying a hint of longing, “do you ever see yourself with kids?”

He takes his eyes off Cleo and looks at me. He pauses, furrowing his brow as he considers the question. After a moment, his gaze returns to Cleo. “No,” he says quietly, his tone serious.

Crack.

I feel a pang of disappointment and sadness, though I try to hide it with a smile. He doesn’t want kids, while I do.

Since I was a little girl, I have dreamed of one day having the kind of love and bond I share with my parents. I have dreamed of a family of my own.

I know we haven’t defined what we are or where we’re headed, but I had hoped we were moving in the same direction.

Not sure how to respond to his revelation, I nod softly and turn back to the children, continuing to hand out cupcakes and treats as if my heart isn’t aching. I let the kids' happiness help me push aside the momentary disappointment.

Throughout the rest of our time at the shelter, I remain my usual cheerful self, engaging with the kids, laughing at their silly antics, and joining in their games. Inside, though, my thoughts are conflicted, and my heart feels heavy as I grapple with the realization of our differing wants and dreams for the future.

When it’s time to go, the children gather around us for one last hug, their small arms wrapping around Shaw and me in a heartwarming embrace. As we say our goodbyes, promises of returning soon linger in the air, leaving behind a room filled with the magic of kindness and love.

As we leave the children’s shelter, our hands empty after leaving all the goodies for the kids, my heart still feels heavy with the knowledge that Shaw doesn’t want kids. However, I shove that feeling aside and decide not to let it spoil my mood or the day with him.

He still mourns his mother, and perhaps his reluctance to have kids is connected to that. As Shaw and I round his truck, he opens the passenger door for me and asks, “You hungry, cupcake?”

“Starving!” I exclaim, reaching for his hand to climb into his truck. “I’m in the mood for—” My words are cut short when I spot something that makes me squeal with joy. No way.

“A bookmobile, Shaw! A bookmobile.” I gasp, releasing his hand and hopping back down.

Across the street, parked by the curb, is a pink Volkswagen bookmobile. The cute van is decked out with vibrant, oversized book covers, whimsical illustrations of stories leaping off the pages, pink flowers, and twinkling white fairy lights.

Stepping away with Shaw, I move closer to the van and laugh when I see the license plate. The glittery plate is customized to read “BOOKME,” and the side windows are lined with shelves holding neatly arranged books, their spines shimmering in the glow of the fairy lights.

“Shaw…” I whisper, captivated by the beauty before me.

“Yes, princess?” he responds from behind, his voice laced with a hint of humor.

The sun is setting, and the sky is moments away from turning to night, giving way to the moon and stars. I tear my gaze from the bookmobile and glance over my shoulder to find Shaw standing close behind me, his eyes full of that tenderness that makes butterflies dance in my stomach. I realize that not even the pretty pink mobile of my dreams can rival the beauty of the man of my dreams.

Shaw looks both handsome and strong. He has spent the entire day helping me prepare for our visit to the shelter, assisted with the kids, and now he is here with me. He must be tired and hungry, yet he hasn’t complained once, simply standing by my side.

“Is this town for real?” I ask breathlessly.

His expression softens. “Yeah, darlin’, it is.”

“It’s perfect,” I beam at him.

“I’m sure you’ve been to more beautiful places.”

I shake my head firmly. “Nothing compares to this place. This feeling in my heart.” I lock eyes with him. “You.”

“Ella…” he whispers, his eyes soft.

I shrug and turn my attention back to the pink van. “You don’t have to say you feel the same. I already know.”

I reach out and lightly touch the spines of the books with my fingertips.

Just when I think he won’t say anything more, as is often his way, he surprises me.

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