“Sure.”
She pats my ass. “Go on. Get a new shirt on and breathe a little, Landry. He’s just a kid.”
I hide my smile. “Yeah, why I’m so nervous about a kid is beyond me.”
Turning on my heel, I pass Hux and give him a wink. He responds by sticking a hand out that I high-five on my way out.
Danielle
LINCOLN’S LAUGH FILLS THE AIR. It’s a different laugh than I’ve heard from him. It’s completely relaxed, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I watch him reach over and bump Huxley’s shoulder. The boy looks up at him like he hung the moon.
He was so great with Rocky, but seeing him with Huxley is a new level of amazing. They’re natural together, like brothers or a father and son. For a split second, I imagine Lincoln as a father. It wouldn’t take much work to imagine us having dinner as a family.
A warmth like I’ve never felt before stretches through my chest, burrowing into little cavities that have been empty my entire life. Places I didn’t know were there. I don’t want this feeling to end.
“This was really good,” Huxley says, setting down his fork. “Thank you for making it, Linc. And thank you for coming to dinner with us, Danielle.”
“You are so welcome. Thank you for inviting me.”
“My mom would really like you.”
“You think?” I ask.
“Yeah. You’re smart and nice and you make Lincoln laugh a lot.”
“Well, Lincoln makes me laugh a lot too.”
Lincoln watches us banter, a huge smile on his face. He’s leaned back at the head of the table, his blue workout shirt nearly painted on his body. I can see every line of his muscles, every ridge of his frame.
Huxley tries to hide a grin. “I think Lincoln likes you.”
I burst out laughing. “You think?” I ask coyly. “What makes you say that, Hux?” I hold my finger in the air as a warning for Lincoln to stay out of it when he starts to interrupt.
“Because you’re really pretty,” he says, his cheeks pinking a little. “And Linc usually just laughs at girls.”
“Does he now?”
“Huxley . . .” Lincoln warns, making Hux burst into a fit of giggles.
“He does. He doesn’t take them seriously. But,” he says, cupping his hands around his mouth to direct his voice to me as he whispers, “they are pretty dumb.”
“Good to know.” I pick up my glass of water and take a sip so I don’t laugh.
“Also, he went to all this trouble for you,” Hux continues. “We bought all this food and he got coffee because he said you like it.”
My eyes flip to Landry.
“And he bought plates and cups because he wanted you to like it here.”
My heart mushes. I have to force myself to take my gaze away from the handsome man at my left and look across the table at Huxley. “That was awfully nice of him.”
“Yes, it was. So you should be super nice to him, okay? He’s a nice guy. He—”
“Laying it on a little thick now, Hux,” Lincoln chuckles. He clears his throat as he dabs his mouth with a napkin.
“Okay, okay.” Huxley looks at me. “Can I go get a shower and maybe lie down? We traveled all day and Barrett bought me a book in the airport and I really want to read.”
“Sure,” I say. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.” He stands and heads to the doorway. I’m not sure what he does as he stands there, but it makes Lincoln nod and laugh.
Once he’s sure Hux is out of earshot, Lincoln reaches under the table and takes my hand. He laces our fingers together, his nearly swamping mine. His thumb caresses my palm.
“So, you going to be super nice to me tonight?” he teases. “I can think of super nice ways for you to show me you like me.”
“Can you?”
“Since I know your favorite ways to come, thanks to your little declaration on the phone today, I thought we could start there.”
“Don’t embarrass me,” I say, tucking my chin.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, baby.” He squeezes my hand until I look at him. “Want some wine?”
“Sure,” I nearly whisper.
“Red or white?”
“White.”
He brings our interlocked hands to his lips and presses a kiss against them before letting mine go. My normal wit is long gone, sitting in a puddle along with the rest of me on the floor. I watch him uncork the wine and pour us both a glass. “Come on,” he says, exiting the kitchen.
I follow him into the living room where he gets comfortable on the sofa. A fire is burning in the fireplace, the crackling of fake logs making the room feel intimate.
“Sit,” he instructs, motioning with his chin for me to land beside him. He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I curl up next to him, his arm stretched along the back of the brown leather couch as I tuck my head into the crook of his shoulder. He hands me a glass of wine. “This is nice.”
“It is.” I take a sip of the full-bodied liquid and feel every stress in my life float away. A niggle in my subconscious tries to remind me not to get too close to him, but it ends up on the stress-exodus and vanishes.
It’s too easy with him. It’s too much like what I’ve always wanted. Sitting with him and Huxley tonight had such a feeling of family, something I’ve never experienced.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“What a nice time we had tonight.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’m glad you liked it. I almost had a fucking nervous breakdown.”
“You could’ve ordered takeout,” I giggle. “Or I could’ve brought something.”
He stills, his heartbeat loud against my ear. “I wanted to do something for you. I wanted you to feel special, to know I wanted to make you feel happy.”
“Damn it, Landry. Don’t go getting all swoony.”
“Why?” he laughs. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Not when you look like you,” I giggle. “That makes you impossible to forget.”
“Good. Unforgettable is what I was going for.”
“You gave me a taste of something tonight,” I whisper. “I’ll never forget how it felt to sit at the table with you and Huxley. It was so welcoming, like I belonged in this greater plan.”
“You do. You belong here.”
I look away. I don’t want him to see the emotion in my eyes because he’s too good. He’ll capitalize. He doesn’t miss a thing.
Is he right? Do I belong with him? Or is this just a really good time in between seasons?
“Hey,” he says, reaching forward and sitting his wine glass on the coffee table. He takes mine from my hand and places it next to his. In one swift motion, he lifts me onto his lap sideways. “Your shoulders just got all tense.”
“That happens,” I say.
“Not with me. I don’t want you stressed with me. I thought you were enjoying yourself.”
“I was. I am,” I correct myself. “I just can’t shut my brain off.”
“You overthink everything. I think your brain is the only part of you I have a love-hate relationship with.”