Page 82 of Love Deep
After an hour and a half ofBrave, all the popcorn has been eaten, plus too much of my favorite chocolate and half a bag of marshmallows. Fisher and I have shared at least a dozen smiles and glances, and I’m one glass of wine away from asking him to move in.
“What next, Mom?” Riley asks, throwing the blanket off us all.
“Well… what about one of the games Fisher brought?” I suggest.
“Let’s see.” She heads off to nose through the bag.
“You okay?” I ask him. He’s probably hating this. People without kids usually max out of kid-friendly activities pretty quickly, no matter how enthusiastic they are to start with.
“I know,” Riley says, holding a Monopoly box. “We should have a kitchen disco and then a board game.”
Fisher looks horrified, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Great idea,” I say. “You figure out the music. I’ll clear the furniture. Can you get the other end of the couch, Fisher?”
He leaps off the couch. “Where are we clearing it to?” He glances around at our small open living area. There are not many places it will go, but we don’t need a big space.
“Just over there a bit. It gives us a dance floor.”
Vivan Cross’ latest, “But Baby, I Love You,” starts up, and I grab Riley’s hand and we dance. We’ve been doing this since she was a toddler. Sometimes I needed a reset when the day was a flurry of diapers and crying. Sometimes she needed to burn off some energy. And as she’s gotten older, it’s become a way we have fun together. Riley gets to play her favorite music and it’s something we share. A continuing bond as she grows.
I spin her around, and then we shimmy before rocking out with some tap stepping.
Fisher’s just watching us, grinning, like he’s not quite sure what he’s looking at.
“Come on, Fisher,” I call. “Come and dance!”
Riley goes and grabs his hand and pulls him onto the dance floor. I don’t think for a moment he’ll join us, but he does. He spins Riley around and around until she’s dizzy, then totally geeks out with the hitchhiker and the twist, like he’s some kind of grandad.
Riley insists on teaching him some moves, and then like magic, he’s dancing along normally. Although “normal” isn’t a word I’d associate with Fisher. He’s fun and kind and sexy as hell. Plus, the man can move. But I knew that already.
The track ends and “Single Ladies” comes on. It’s a favorite of Riley’s and mine.
“Mom,” Riley calls over the music. “I don’t know if you can dance to this anymore. Not while Fisher’s in town.”
My heart stops for a second and my jaw hangs open. I don’t know how to react.
Of course, Fisher comes to my rescue. He grabs my hand and spins me around, pulling me out of my shocked trance.
“Riley, it’s illegal not to dance to this song, even if you’re not single. And even if you’re not a lady.” He thrusts his left hand in the air and twists it in time to the music and for a second I wonder if he has the entire routine memorized.
After a couple more songs, I’m exhausted, and I collapse on the couch and watch as Fisher and Riley continue the kitchen disco.
I’ve never seen my daughter look so happy, and I’ve never felt more complete.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Fisher
Today is the day. I’ve spent long enough trying to explain away Gerry Banks’ behavior. Today, I’m going to look him in the eye and tell him I’m onto him.
I’m pacing in my lodge, waiting for the call from Byron. To occupy myself, I think about dancing around Juniper’s living area with her and Riley yesterday. I have plenty of fun in New York, but I can’t remember ever feeling so completely free and unselfconscious. Not in a long time. I’ve had a relatively high profile for a number of years in New York and I run a business connected to a lot of even more high-profile people. I have to be cautious. I don’t want anything I do to impact the artists I work with. But there’s no one to take any notice in Star Falls, let alone when it’s just me, Juniper, and Riley.
I’ve always prided myself on being authentic and open, but hanging out with Juniper and her daughter makes me realize that even I have a game face. And I wear it most of the time.
A hammering at the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I swing the door open and come face-to-face with Byron.
“He arrived about an hour ago,” he says, without introduction. “He and Mr. and Mrs. Franklin are having coffee and snacks in the upper lounge area.”
