“Yes, not exactly?”
“He’s a little hesitant. He doesn’t think I’m into children.” My hands fly over my keyboard as I talk. “But there’s one thing Sawyer Camden doesn’t know about me.”
“What’s that?” Chloe asks, getting up to dig into our snack pile.
“That I, Everly Jensen, am one half of the most popular babysitting duo that Ridgefield, Connecticut ever saw.”
Chloe grins. “We were a good team.”
“The best,” I agree and smile when I find what I’m looking for online, then send Sawyer a text telling him to pick me up tomorrow at 10:45 am.
******
I leave my room at 10:30 the next morning, intending to be outside when Sawyer arrives so he doesn’t have to park the car and get out with Jake. But I find him waiting for me in the lobby instead, a miniature version of himself beside him. I’m pretty sure I ovulate at the sight, which I know is scientifically unlikely as I’m on the birth control pill, but I’m glad I’m not going home with Sawyer today all the same.
They’re standing in Sawyer’s usual spot, near the mail boxes, leaning against the wall with their hands in their pockets in identical poses. Sawyer’s wearing jeans and a grey sweater. Jake’s in jeans and a navy sweater with a child-sized neck tie over that. It’s navy and red striped and makes no sense with his outfit, as he’s not wearing a collared shirt.
“Hi.” I smile at them both as I approach. “I was going to meet you outside so you didn’t have to park.”
Jake shakes his head. “When you pick up your friend who is a girl, you park your car and go inside.” He looks up at Sawyer for confirmation. “Right, Daddy?”
“Right, buddy.” Sawyer nods back, the corners of his eyes creased in amusement. They obviously had a conversation about this when they parked.
“Well, thank you.” I bend down to Jake’s level. I don’t bend over at the waist and loom over him. I hate that. I bend at the knees so our heads are level and extend my hand to him. “I’m Everly.”
He shakes my hand very seriously and tells me his name is Jake. Then Sawyer swings him up in his arms and we head outside.
“What’s with the tie?” I whisper to Sawyer while we walk to the car.
He shakes his head. “Hell if I know. I was wearing a tie when I met him. He asked for one of his own and wears it every day.” We arrive in the parking lot and Sawyer guides me to a Porsche Cayenne and opens the passenger door for me.
“We open car doors! Right, Daddy?” Jake grins at me from Sawyer’s arms and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. He’s so stinking cute.
“Nice SUV.” I wink at Sawyer as I hop up into the vehicle. Sawyer buckles Jake into his seat in the back and then we’re off, arriving fifteen minutes later at the Please Touch Museum. My research tells me this is the place to visit with a kid on a Sunday afternoon in February.
Sawyer buys our tickets and we drop our coats off in the coat check room then head towards the center past the information desk.
“Which do you like better, cars or rockets?” I ask Jake, consulting the paper map we picked up at the door.
“Cars!”
“Off to roadside attractions it is then,” I say and we head left to a series of interactive exhibits where Jake pretends to drive a bus, collect tolls and fill a car with gas. After that we visit the space station exhibit where Jake gets to pretend he’s a space shuttle pilot.
But we quickly find out his favorite exhibit is the ShopRite Supermarket on the lower level. He zips down the play grocery store aisles with his child-sized grocery cart with absolute glee, filling it with food till it spills out the top.
“We can take him to Whole Foods next weekend,” Sawyer comments. “Totally blow his mind.”
I laugh, but I’m secretly glad he said ‘we.’
We stop for lunch at the museum cafe. Sawyer and I eat burgers while Jake eats half a hot dog and about a dozen cheese-flavored crackers.
“Is that supposed to freak me out?” Sawyer asks me, expression serious. “He only eats half of everything. Maybe I should take him to a doctor?”
I place my hand over his and point out that they give out the same-sized hot dog to every kid and a four-year-old isn’t likely to finish as much of it as an older kid. He nods and relaxes.
We visit the river adventures exhibit after lunch and Jake gets his tie soaked racing sailboats. He wrings it out and then we visit the carousel.
“I want the cat,” he tells me while Sawyer is buying him a ticket.
“I’m not sure there’s a cat on the carousel, buddy.” We’re holding hands watching the animals whiz past from outside a gated area that surrounds it.
“There is. I saw it,” he tells me, brow furrowed in concentration as he looks for it again.
The museum employee operating the ride confirms there is indeed a cat. Forty horses, four cats, and a small assortment of other animals. But Jake is firm on the cat, waving to us on each rotation of the carousel.