Page 85 of Single Dad Dilemma
The edge of her lips curled up, but only for a moment. “I guess. Have you ever lay like this? Just to watch?”
“No. I, uh, I can’t say that I have.” I rubbed a gloved hand over my jaw and thought about it. “Maybe when I was a kid.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “Do you remember it?”
Briefly, I glanced over at the slider, making sure no one was watching. Or recording it on their phone for later. For the time being, we were unnoticed, so I took a few steps closer, tugged my hat out from the pocket of my coat, and pulled it over my head. Lily’s eyes darted in my direction, then shifted back to the sky when I eased down onto the snow next to her.
We didn’t speak, and I felt my blood pressure drop as I stared up into the sky. Everything was white. The spindly arms of the trees were visible in the edges of my vision, but other than that, everything was void of color. Trying to focus in on the snow as it fell almost felt impossible. The flakes landed on my face, but I didn’t brush them away immediately.
Her hands were on her stomach, so I mirrored her pose, and even though my legs were going to freeze off and my testicles had likely taken up permanent residence inside my body, I’d lay there next to her for a while.
“I don’t ever take time to do stuff like this,” I admitted.
“Most people don’t.”
I turned my head to the side and studied the finely carved lines of her profile. Her cheeks were flushed from cold, as was the tip of her nose. “But you do?”
Lily didn’t answer right away. “Not as much as I should.”
There wasn’t a sound anywhere around us—no kids out playing, no dogs barking, no cars on the street.
“What do you see?” she asked in a hushed voice.
My throat was dry from staring at her, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. I shifted my gaze away, moving it back to the sky. There was probably some poetic way to describe it, but when I tried, everything fell just a little short.
“I’m not ... I’m not good at saying things in a pretty way,” I admitted roughly. “But it feels peaceful, I guess.”
Lily made a small humming noise, her chest expanding on a deep breath.
“What about you?” I asked. “What do you see?”
Her face stayed perfectly still, and I wasn’t sure she’d heard me. Wasn’t sure she was planning to answer. But then she closed her eyes, and it wasn’t until her brows furrowed and her lower lip trembled that I knew something was wrong. That even if she was physically fine, Lily wasn’t okay.
“Magic,” she whispered. Her eyes opened, and they were glossy with unshed tears, but not a single one fell. “I see magic.”
She held her hand up, and when a few fat, fluffy flakes landed on her glove, she brought it closer to her face. Watching her study them was fascinating, and it tore me apart how badly I wanted to know more about her. Wanted to know what was making her so sad. Wanting to fix it. Take it away, if I could.
If she’d let me.
“It’s like the sky is breaking apart,” she said. “Doesn’t that sound scary when you think about it?”
“I guess.”
“It’s not, though. Each piece that pries away from the others, it’s different from the one next to it. Isn’t that incredible?”
I looked back up, watching the mesmerizing descent of the snow. She was right. It did look like that. Slowly, I turned my face back toward her. “Beautiful.”
She didn’t say anything right away, and that was fine with me.
I wondered how long it would take for frostbite to set in when you lay on the snow wearing jeans. My calves were numb. So was my ass. Hers couldn’t have been any better since she was wearing leggings.
But I was fairly certain that, until she moved, I wouldn’t either.
“I’m surprised you’re out here.”
“I thought you were unconscious. If I didn’t come out, then I’ve got even bigger problems to contend with.”
“I’m not, though.” She looked over at me. “Unconscious.”
