Page 35 of Breathe Again

“Tell me the good stuff, the stuff that made it a three and a half even with Jenny Abbott trying to kiss you.”

He beamed at Bex. “My mom bought me the The Lego Minecraft Crafting Box and we built all the different combinations this week.”

“That does sound like a good week. Is Minecraft your favorite Lego? Do you play the video game, too?”

“I’m asking for it for my birthday. It’s coming in five months. Dad says I can have it when I’m seven.”

“That sounds awesome. I’ll have to get it for Olivia and me so we can play with you.”

His eyes lit up. He whispered, “That would be awesome.”

I laughed, “You want to see what I brought for us to do today?”

“Yep!”

I pulled three sizes of marshmallows, a box of toothpicks and a package of wooden skewers out of my bag.

“We’re going to build the highest marshmallow tower known to man.”

“And then we can eat it!” he grinned.

I grimaced and he laughed. “Better wash our hands first.”

Bex wandered over to sit with Rhys and Zale while I played with the kids for half an hour. Our tower was not a raging success, butwe laughed a lot while trying to get it upright. Olivia ran out of patience quickly and dropped back. She sat eating a bowl of minis, picking each one up with a toothpick, and watched while Amelie, Cole and I struggled.

We eventually managed to get it upright with Rhys giving us some structural support advice, and he snapped a pic with his phone before it collapsed. Cole asked if he could keep the leftovers to try again tomorrow. I looked forward to what he would do now that he had some idea of what did and didn’t work.

I curled up beside Zale, facing Bex and Rhys.

“Is Willa coming?”

“Nope,” Bex stated, her eyebrows raised, her mouth twisted to the side.

I caught on. “Barrett?”

“Nope!” She grinned.

“You think?” I asked.

Her smile fell. “No,” she scowled. “Barrett’s gone on one of his drive-outs, but I live in hope!”

“Yeah, me too.” I paused. “What’s a drive-out?”

She shrugged. “He gets in his truck and drives. When he’s gone far enough, he comes back. That’s what he says.”

“I wonder where he goes?”

Bex pursed her lips. “Me too!” We snickered together at our nosiness.

Bex looked cute today. She always looked cute. Shopping was the one thing she hadn’t let fall by the wayside. Her style had changed a lot. After getting diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, she bought a whole new wardrobe. She had to; her skin was so sensitive that most fabrics chafed. Now she wore a lot of leggings all year long, skirts, dresses and shorts in the summer, tights and dresses in the winter. Today she wore leggings with a boat neck sweater the same color as her eyes, a bright pink camisole underneath, its straps visible on her exposed shoulders.

I looked down at myself, my drab jeans, my so-called good ones, had seen better days. They were probably at least five years old, and while Zale could pull off a pair of worn jeans like nobody’s business, I could not. My sweater was cute when I bought it, but it was older than Amelie and Cole now, and it had pilled in all the spots prone to wear. This was one of my better outfits. How could I expect Zale to look at me when I looked like an aging, overweight housewife who no longer cared how she looked?

“I need to go shopping,” I muttered out loud. I blushed to the roots of my hair at the thought of drawing attention to my outfit.

“Saturday,” Bex promptly replied.

“Yeah?” I asked.

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