Page 93 of Finders Keepers

“Yeah,” he agrees. He sits up, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

I scan the floor for my clothes, suddenly self-conscious. My shirt hangs off the corner of the dresser, and I snatch it up, pulling it over my head.

“Here.” Gavin hands me my underwear, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Thanks.” I slide them on quickly, followed by my jeans. The denim feels rough against my still-sensitive skin.

He dresses with efficient movements, pulling on his boxers and jeans in one fluid motion. He catches me watching and winks, making heat rush to my cheeks.

“See something you like?” he teases, tugging his t-shirt over his head.

“Maybe.” I try to be casual, but my voice comes out breathier than intended.

He crosses the room in a few strides, tilting my chin up for a quick kiss. “Good because, same.”

Another bark, more insistent this time, breaks the moment.

“We’re coming, Nugget,” he calls out, taking my hand and leading me down the hallway.

Walking into the living room we see Nugget pressing his nose against the glass door, clearly done with his bathroom break.

Gavin turns back to me as he opens the door. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I nod, wrapping my arms around myself. “Just… processing.”

He steps toward me, concern etching lines between his brows. “Regrets?”

“No,” I answer quickly, surprising myself with how true it feels. “No regrets.”

Isit back in my chair, completely stuffed from the absolutely incredible pot roast I just devoured. The way Ms. Lucy cooks reminds me so much of my grandmother, everything made with love and enough food to feed an army. The tenderness of the meat, the perfectly seasoned vegetables, it was comfort on a plate.

“My gosh, that was absolutely amazing,” I say patting my stomach, watching as Ms. Lucy starts gathering plates from the table. “Please, let me help with the cleanup.”

“Nonsense,” she waves me off with that familiar no-nonsense hand gesture. “You just sit right there and let your dinner settle. Besides, looks like your little one’s about ready to call it a night.”

I glance down at Sophie, who’s fighting to keep her eyes open next to me. Her long eyelashes flutter as she struggles against sleep. She had such a wonderful time today, getting her nails painted a sparkly pink by Ms. Lucy, making sugar cookie cut-outs and then decorating them with royal icing. The kitchen counter still displays a few of her artistic creations.

Gavin stands up from his chair. “At least let me help with these dishes, Ms. Lucy. You’ve outdone yourself tonight.”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest,” she replies with a smile that wrinkles the corners of her green eyes, finally accepting some help. I watch as they move around her kitchen with easy familiarity, Gavin washing while Ms. Lucy dries and puts everything away, their comfortable silence punctuated by the occasional clink of dishes.

“Mama,” Sophie mumbles leaning against my side, her warm little body growing heavier, “I’m sleepy.”

“I know, baby,” I stroke her hair gently, feeling the softness of her blonde waves between my fingers. “We’ll head home in just a minute. Mr. Gavin is going to walk us.”

Ten minutes later I balance a sleepy Sophie on my hip as we make our way up the front porch steps of our little house. The evening air is warm and thick with the sound of cicadas, and I’m fumbling for my keys when Sophie suddenly perks up.

“Mr. Gavin,” she says, her voice hopeful, “will you read me a bedtime story?”

I catch his eyes light up at the question, seeing them soften at Sophie’s request. Before he can answer, I jump in, “Brush teeth first then story.”

“I’d love to read you a story,” he says, making Sophie beam despite her earlier tiredness. “But your mama’s right, five-year-olds need to brush their teeth every night.”

I unlock the door, and we step inside. “Make yourself at home,” I tell him, mimicking his early words, gesturing to the couch. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

I’m spritzing some detangler spray into Sophie’s damp hair and braid it into two braids as she rinses her mouth out with water and she catches my eye in the mirror.

“Mommy.”

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