Page 115 of Fake As Puck
“Like what?” I ask.
“Like this could be us years down the road with our own kids.”
My stomach falls to the earth’s core. Did he really just say that? He’s planning our future already? My pulse quickens, and I don’t know what to do or to say. So the words hang between us, and I feel my chest tighten.
Because this already feels real like we could have this if we really wanted to. We’ve been trading off kid duty all day like we’vebeen doing it for years. He carries Charlie when she gets tired, I handle Emma’s diaper changes, and we communicate with looks and gestures like we have our own language.
It feels natural. Right.
It feels like something I could get used to.
“We’re just... helping Tessa out,” I quip. I don’t know what else to say. I can’t get lost in la la land with West at Disneyland right now.
I notice his jaw tightens. “Yeah.”
I add, “And you’ll go back to Seattle, and I’ll go back to my regular life, and this will just be a nice memory.”
“Right.”
But neither of us moves apart in the line, and when the family in front of us turns around to include us in their conversation about ride wait times, we don’t correct them when they assume we’re together. That this is our family when the mother gushes over how cute our girls are.
When we’re boarding the ride, our hands brush as we both reach to help Emma into the boat, and neither of us pulls back.
We just let our fingers tangle together.
“You have such a beautiful family,” the cast member says as she checks our safety restraints.
“Thank you,” West says without hesitation.
“Thank you,” I echo, even though I should correct her.
Should tell her we’re not a family. Should explain that this is just a favor for his sister and we’re definitely not together and the kids aren’t ours.
Instead, I squeeze his hand and smile and let myself pretend for just a moment that this is real. That’s what he wants, right? Hewants to just keep pretending, so I guess for a moment, I play along.
When we get off the ride, West doesn’t let go of my hand.
“Liv,” he says as we’re walking toward the next attraction.
“Yeah?”
He stops walking and turns to face me, and there’s something in his expression that makes my heart skip.
“Can I kiss you?”
“West—”
“Liv.”
Charlie’s distracted by a street performer, and Emma’s fallen asleep in the stroller, and we’re standing in the middle of Disneyland surrounded by families and tourists and the smell of popcorn.
It’s not romantic. It’s not private. It’s not any of the things a first kiss should be.
But when I look at him, all I can think about is how right this feels. How much I’ve missed him. How much I don’t want him to leave tomorrow.
“Okay,” I say.
He kisses me right there in front of Sleeping Beauty’s castle, and it tastes like churros and possibility and everything I didn’t know I wanted.
