Page 73 of This Life and All the Rest
I’ve spent the last week knocking her over, so she could save her first steps for Trent, and now here we are and all she wants to do is sit. I crouch down behind her and scoop her back up into my arms.
“You’re very stubborn,” I say to Evie, and my mom and Trent laugh.
“She’s not a trick pony, Macon,” Lennon says wryly, as she stands back up. “She’ll do it on her terms.”
“You were like that, too,” my mom says with a grin, then she looks at Claire. “You both were.Verystrong-willed.”
“Is that a nice way of saying pain in the ass?” Claire asks with a laugh, and my mom shrugs, which is basically a confirmation.
My mother deserves sainthood for all she’s gone through with me and Claire.
“Lennon was the opposite,” Trent says warmly. “For better or worse, she was always very agreeable. A people pleaser.”
I watch Lennon’s jaw twitch and her brow furrow slightly before Trent continues.
“I’m glad to see she’s gotten more strong-willed with age.”
He’s grinning at Lennon, when she rolls her eyes and waves him off, but I don’t miss the tint of pink on her cheeks or the way she has to fight to keep her small smile from growing into a much larger one.
I have to tame my smile, too, because I know the truth.
Lennon hasn’t gotten more strong-willed with age. She’s gotten more honest. Because, even at nine years old, in a blue and white polka-dotted dress and a French braid tied off with a white ribbon, she was as strong-willed as they come.
She just didn’t know it yet.
We only stayat the hospital for another thirty minutes before a nurse comes and shoos us out, but Trent asks Lennon to come back later in the afternoon.
She agrees, and we all walk out the door like one big, happy family.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Mom asks as we walk as a group to the parking lot.
“I’m meeting back up with Eric for lunch, and then I’m going to try and get some work done,” Claire says as she types something into her phone.
“And what do you do for work?” Lennon asks, sliding a pair of sunglasses over her eyes.
Claire looks up from her phone quickly, and I have to bite back a laugh at the look of shock on her face. Lennon doesn’t bother, though. She nearly cackles.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Lennon says, amused. “I was just making conversation.”
Claire huffs out a small laugh and shrugs.
“I work for a small marketing firm,” Claire says. “I do social media research, tracking trends and things. Then I develop individualized marketing strategies for clients. I’m the newest member on the team, and fresh out of school, so I get all the tiny jobs.”
Claire shrugs again.
“It’s notfamous artist in Paris-glam, but I enjoy it.”
“I think it sounds really cool, actually,” Lennon says casually, and I don’t miss the way Claire’s mouth drops open before she snaps it shut again.
“You’ve always had a knack for social media stuff. An eye for what’s trending. I bet you’re good at your job.”
“She’s very good at it,” Mom chimes in. “Tell her about the bookstore,” she urges Claire.
“Mom, she doesn’t care about that,” Claire mumbles.
“Tell me about the bookstore, Claire,” Lennon insists, and my smile grows.
She’s genuinely interested, but she’s also taking a bit of pleasure in Claire’s discomfort. I absolutely love it.
