Page 165 of Jensen
The stairs creak, and it’s a relief to see Della appear, in my shirt and shorts. Last night, after we showered, she balled up the lingerie and dressing gown and asked me to throw it into the trash outside. I just never want to see anything from him again, she whispered. I get that.
She goes right to Landis, bending to kiss the top of his head.
“How’d you sleep, sweetie?” she murmurs.
“Good,” he says. “Jensen’s going to make me a treehouse.”
She looks up, brow arching. “Oh, really?”
“Not very high off the ground,” I amend.
She circles, her soft hand skimming my shoulders as she leans into me. Landis watches us, not missing a thing. He’s a smart kid, I can tell by the way he soaks everything in around him. That means Della is going to have to do a lot of explaining to make sense of what happened and why everything is changing. I wish I could help, but that’s not my place. Yet.
“I’m gonna run into town and get you both clothes,” I say. “Then, we have a date at the courthouse.”
She blushes, kissing my hair. “Thank you for taking care of us.”
“Of course, baby,” I say.
I squeeze her arm, and she rests her chin on my head. We stay like that for a second before I shift, getting to my feet. Landis puts his cup down and looks up at me.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Tothe store to get you some new clothes,” I say, reaching for a piece of scrap paper and a pen. “You want me to see if they have a stuffed fox at the store?”
“Yeah,” he says, face lighting up.
Della sinks down in my chair. “Oh no, I didn’t get his fox.”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll find something.”
I go into town with the list of everything we need in hand. Most of the groceries and clothes are easy to find, but it takes a half hour to find a stuffed fox. I’m about to give up and face a hard conversation with Landis, but just as I’m getting into my truck, I look across the road at a little boutique in South Platte and see one sitting in the window.
I’m across the street in seconds, opening my wallet. The damn thing is thirty dollars, but that’s fine. No way in hell I’m leaving without it.
When I get back, they’re both showered and ready. Della is quieter than usual, and there’s a flush to her face. She gets Landis dressed, not meeting my eyes, and sends him downstairs to get a snack before we leave. I catch her around the waist, her slip silky under my fingers.
“You’re feeling some kind of way,” I say.
She gives me a look, but she’s blushing even harder.
“Is it wrong for me to be excited for my wedding?” she says.
“It’s the only way I want you.”
She lets me kiss her, nice and deep. Then, she’s ducking into the bathroom and locking the door. I’m in my Sunday clothes, pants with suspenders to keep them horizontal and a crisp blue shirt. I don’t own a suit, never had a reason to, but this is good enough. I think she’ll take me as I am.
Downstairs, Landis stands in the kitchen, eating the sandwich Della left out for him. I pour him a glass of milk. He chugs the entire thing in one go then hands it back to me, nodding his appreciation.
Impressed, I put it in the sink. When he’s grown, I have a few bars we can hit up.
“Can we wait on the porch?” he asks.
“Sure thing,” I say, leading the way down the hallway.
He scampers after me, perching on the top step. “My mom takes a while to get ready,” he says.
“That’s alright,” I say, sitting beside him. “I got nowhere to be but here.”
