Page 6 of A Me and You Thing
They both sayDadain response, something Sawyer is ridiculously proud of.
He turns his gaze on me. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I had this really good dream this morning.”
“That’s bizarre. So did I.”
“Wait, was I in it?”
“As a matter of fact, you were.”
He widens his eyes with mock surprise. “Huh, weird. It’s like we know each other or something.”
“Or something,” I say, handing him a plate of breakfast.
“Thanks,June.”
“You’re welcome,Ward.”
He winks at me, and we share a smile. I love my man—and our secret rendezvous early this morning. They’re becoming a habit I have no desire to break.
He enfolds me in a side hug, and we sit down to eat together. I wave a small folded piece of paper in the air.
“Got it.”
“Like it?”
“I love it.” It’s my latest love note from Sawyer. I found it this morning in the drawer of the small table in our bedroom. It has become our love-note-mailbox of sorts. It wasn’t planned, it just happened. I purchased the accent table to hold a gorgeous vase of fake flowers from our wedding—a little reminder of the best day of my life. I placed a note to Sawyer in the drawer when I presented it to him, telling him how important that day was to me. When he left for work the next day, he asked, “Did you check the drawer?” Right after he left, I hightailed it upstairs and hurriedly opened the drawer. He’d returned the favor and left a sweet note for me. Now it’s just a thing we do, our little secret way of communicating.
His current note says:Nothing compares 2 U.
Although it’s not our usual norm, lately we’ve been sending love song titles back and forth to each other, and yes, a little healthy one-upmanship is involved. The thought of our recent back and forth brings a small smile to my face.
Him:All of me loves all of you.
Me:I can’t help falling in love with you.
Him:Everything I do, I do it for you.
Me:I’m crazy for you.
He doesn’t know it, but I have all of his notes saved in a small box in my closet. I love them.
“What’s your day look like?” he asks.
“Tennis at ten. Massage at eleven. Pedicure at noon, followed by lunch at a seaside café. The usual. I’m a woman of leisure, after all.”
“I’m so jealous. Some of us have to work.” Sawyer splays his hands in the air. He’s kidding; he knows very well how hard I work.
I’m the maid, nanny, chief cook and bottle washer all wrapped up into one glorious job title otherwise known as Mother.
I take a bite of my bagel and we share a smile. Our baby girls are watching us intently as we converse. Josie scrunches up her face and grants us a Mr. Magoo smile. Jordyn imitates her father’s hand splaying, making a shocked expression cross Sawyer’s face. We share anoh my gosh, they’re so smartlook. Like most parents, we’re convinced our offspring are prodigies.
“Hey,” I cover Sawyer’s hand with mine, intending to reassure him. “I love my life. I love staying home with the girls all day and tending to their needs. I even love the cleaning and cooking. Sometimes. It’s the piles of laundry I could do without.”
“I know you do. If it makes you happy, it makes me happy.” He nods toward our daughters. “I know Thing One and Thing Two over there are happy. Are they smiling? I bet they’re smiling.” He turns his head suddenly, surprising them and they both burst into giggles. “I knew it.”
