Page 70 of Where Our Turn Begins (Arrow Creek 4)

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Caiti

“I swearyou walk around with hearts in your eyes all of a sudden. Dane must be giving you the goods regularly.” Evie remarks, nudging my shoulder with hers. We’re walking down the street to the cute preschool she and Rhett brought Tommy to for a tour. Ophelia twirls around my arm happily at my side, dancing with her shadow from the sunshine. Now that the decision to move to Arrow Creek is final, I don’t want to waste any time establishing ourselves here.

The two plane ticket confirmations left on the counter this morning also felt like a sign. Just another way Dane’s showing he’s all in with my sudden arrival. He’s only been gone a few hours, but I already can’t wait for him to return home so I can thank him.

“I do not,” I scold with a smile. “And the rest is none of your business.”

“Let me be happy for you. I haven’t seen you this way in so long.”

Since before Eric died. The truth rings out in my head. I abruptly stop us and fling my arms around her shoulders, squeezing tight. “Love you.”

Her return hug is equally fierce. “Love you too. Now that you’re here to stay, we’ll have to schedule regular girls’ night out. Kiersten will be pissed while she’s still pregnant, but after she pops those kids out, she’ll be desperate for a drink.”

I’m about to laugh, but I catch sight of her face. The talk of kids instantly taints her mood. “Hey. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah.” We resume our trek down the final block. “It is what it is. This is my lot in life, you know?”

“You don’t know that. Don’t give up hope yet.”

She shakes her head. “I haven’t. I’m so lucky to have Tommy around. He’s like my own. But I love Rhett so much, you know? I just wish more than anything I could give him that part of me.”

“I wish I could tell the future. Whatever happens, I’m here for you.”

“Sometimes, I think I could kiss Dane for bringing you back to me.”

I scrunch my nose at her. “Please don’t.”

The rock of a diamond on her left hand flashes brightly in the sun. “Don’t worry. He’s all yours.”

Our unit reaches the chain link fence separating the kids playing outside from the sidewalk and street. “Look, Ophelia. We’re going to see if this is your new school.”

“I don’t want school. I want Daddy.” She throws my hand and crosses her arms tightly over her chest.

“Uh-oh. Someone might be nervous,” Evie whispers beside my ear.

Ophelia’s sudden change in demeanor surprises me. She’s extremely outgoing on even her worst days.

“Daddy will be home later, and you can tell him all about it.”

“No!” She pouts.

“Hey Ophelia, did you know Tommy went to this school?” Evie crouches to her level.

The little diva drops her tight pose and cocks her head. “Tommy?”

Any mention of her bigger cousin immediately gets her attention.

“Uh-huh. Want to meet his teacher? I bet Ms. Laura is here today.” Evie flashes me her index and middle finger in an X.

“Okay. I go wif Autie Ebie.” She runs around my legs to take hold of Evie’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks,” I mutter, never one to begrudge a little assistance with the Terrible Twos.

“You can pay me back with a cocktail.”

“What’s cocktail?” Ophelia asks.

I send a glare to my loose-lipped sister. “It’s a grown-up word, honey.”

Ophelia twists her head to look up at me. “Is it a bad word?”

Not wanting to enforce a lie, I let my shoulders drop with a quiet sigh. “No, it’s not a bad word.”

Evie opens the front doors, revealing a playroom with a group of kids and a mass of toys. Ophelia’s eyes grow round, and she drops Evie’s hand. “Okay. See you tail-cocky!”

I nearly choke on my own spit at her chosen farewell.

“This is your fault.” I poke my finger at Evie.

“Oops. Sorry, tail-cocky.”

I move through the open door, trying to hide my grin. “This is nice.”

There’s an office to my left and restrooms to the right, but straight ahead is a large, open space. Kids in the two-to-four age range wander in various states of play with toys littering the floor around them. The hallway between the rooms is lined with a rainbow assortment of backpacks, coats, and cubbies at waist height for the little kids.

Noticing the newcomer, a woman around my own age approaches with a warm smile. Brown hair with reddish highlights is pulled back into a low ponytail that swishes with her bouncy steps. “You must be Caiti.” Before I can greet her, she does a double take. “Evie! What are you doing here?”

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