Page 83 of Love Me Fearless

With a sigh, she steps back and picks up the bag. “Thank you.”

I stifle my groan and grab my coat and follow her to the door. Outside, bright sunlight is filtering through the cottonwoods, a sign of how late we stayed in bed. It was definitely decadent. The kind of morning I’ll be dreaming about.

Because as many partners as I’ve had, not a lot of them reciprocate. I never ask them to, but it’s never seemed like a huge deal.

Ava definitely changed that today.

I give the driveway and yard a quick scan but I’m not surprised that everything looks the same as yesterday. Nothing out of place.

After walking Ava to her car, I open the door for her. She gives me a glance, the tiny flecks of gold in her eyes flashing in the sunshine, and I lower to give her a soft kiss. With a gentle caress of my face, she breaks away and settles behind the wheel.

I’m tempted to follow her all the way to work, but at the edge of her neighborhood, I watch her turn right, toward her office. Reluctantly, I turn left. As I swing around, I glance down the length of her quiet street, but nothing stands out.

Whatever woke me must have been a figment of a dream. Or maybe it’s my worry of the future. The version where Ava walks out of it for good.

When I arrive home, my good friend Kirilee’s black BMW and four other cars that I don’t recognize are lined up along the right side of the driveway. When I step down from the truck, several heads from the fields turn my way.

Then it hits me like a kick to the knees. Today is Kirilee’s senior painting class field trip. The one I forgot about. Not that Kirilee needs anything from me, but I feel bad I wasn’t here to welcome her and her students. Beth’s car is still here and so is Dylan’s, so thechores are likely under control. I change into boots in the mudroom and hurry out to the field.

Kirilee has long, strawberry-blonde hair that shines to white gold in the sunshine, which is almost as blinding as her smile when she sees me waiting for her at the edge of the rows of peonies and lupine. Her charges are spread out with their easels and little stools and wide-brimmed hats. After checking in with one of them, she hurries down the trough between rows, her giant belly adding an adorable waddle to her gait.

“Morning!” she says, grabbing me in a quick hug. “Thanks again for letting us crash your flower patch.”

“Anytime,” I say.

“How’s your mom?” She rubs her belly.

“Doing better, thanks.”

Her eyes warm. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

“She’s coming home today, actually.” In the farthest corner, near the chicken coop, sits Kirilee’s grandma Theodora, who helped Kirilee start her community art school and has been an avid supporter since, even recruiting her cronies for classes like this one.

“You sure you’re feeling up for this? Can I least get you a chair?”

She laughs. “If I sit down, I might not get up.”

I give her belly a wary glance. “When is this watermelon due?”

“Three weeks.”

I wince in sympathy. “If men were in charge of having babies, the human race would have gone extinct long ago.”

“Indeed.”

“You need anything, let me know?”

She bites her lip. “Actually, can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course.” I make the quick decision to go with her because there is no telling what state our bathrooms are in after my sibling tornadoes have used it.

“The other night at Hazel Creek sure felt like old times,” she says, flashing mea warm smile.

I nod at her belly. “By the next time I make it home again, our numbers will have doubled thanks to all of these babies.”

Her smile fades. “When are you leaving?”

“Not sure. Mom’s getting better, so…” I climb the porch ahead of her so I can open the door.

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