Page 50 of Suddenly Entwined

“No,” she says, popping up off the carpet like she sat on a Lego. “I’m the one that asked. It’s my stupid magazine. Play stupid games, you know?”

She folds the blanket and throws it over the back of the couch while I gather the dishes and set them in the sink. I join her in my foyer as she’s slipping on her shoes, sort of surprised at how disappointed I am to see her go.

“Hey, Caro? What’s the male equivalent?” I ask, stalling.

She glances up at me as she ties her laces. “What do you mean?”

“Of ‘ass and boobs’. Is it like…ass and pecs?”

It’s such a stupid question, but she laughs as she stands, tapping her finger against her lip.

“Ass, for sure. And…I don’t know. Maybe, forearms? Yeah, forearms.” She nods definitively.

“Forearms are not in the same realm as boobs.”

“Ah hah!” She points a finger at me. “So, you’re a boob guy.”

“Shit,” I swear, swallowing at the memory of her trying to cover hers in her bathroom.

“Gotcha, MacMillan.”

I hang my head, wondering if I’ll ever be able to stop blushing around her.

“Want me to walk you home?”

“I live downstairs, Berg. I’ll just yell when I get there.”

“Right, of course. Same time tomorrow?”

“That’s the job!” she says, cheerfully, pulling open the door and walking out.

She’ll be back in the morning, and even that feels too long.

Chapter seventeen

Carolina

Most days, Berg does everything in his power to make it home for bedtime, much to their delight. I get it, I’m really fun for a few hours, but when it comes to reading story books and cuddling, dad reigns supreme. He’s had a hell of a lot of practice. In fact, he’s even home for supper most days. March sneaks up on us, and our routine is beginning to feel natural. Each evening after we’ve eaten, I make excuses about how I should head out, but I always end up staying. I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t feel like a family when we all squeeze in around the circular table, elbows bumping as we pass around the dishes. I’m always included in the highs and lows, and it makes my heart race when Berg says his high is the meal I made or Natalie sings my praises for a craft I helped her do after school.

When Berg slips into their room to read, that should be my clear cue to exit, but instead I putter around the house. I’ll flip laundry to the dryer, straighten shoes by the door, or scoop puzzle pieces into their box. Tonight my feet slow in the hall and I hover by the girls bedroom. Mostly, I like listening to the low hum of Berg’s voice as he narrates and his gentle shushes when the girls interrupt. I’m about to sneak out, because I figure after a long day at work he might want his space, but he surprises me by coming out into the hall right as I’ve got my hand on the doorknob.

“Will you sit with me while I eat?” he asks.

I hesitate, not because I don’t want to, but because I know I probablyshouldn’twant to. If I truly viewed this as a normal job, I’d be outta here the minute he walked through the door.

“You’re done for the day. I understand if you’re ready to go.”

“No! I want to.” I toe out of my shoes. “Actually, I didn’t eat very much with the girls. Maybe I’ll join you and have some more.”

I ease into the chair at the table that has quickly become my own while Berg heats up bowls of chili.

“Did the girls actually eat this?”

“Nope,” I say. “Why do you think the pot is practically full?”

He laughs, easing into the chair next to me. “I admire your dedication to trying something new. But beans are usually a hard no for them.”

“Bedtime easy?”

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