Page 44 of Came the Closest
“Uh,” Indi says, eying my pajamas and hers, “we’re not dressed.”
Colton opens the rear passenger door of my Bronco and looks at us blankly. “So?”
Milo scrambles down from my lap and laughs when Colton swings him around before putting him in the vehicle. The gesture makes my skin prickle with awareness. We mutually agreed to put Milo’s booster seat in my car, and Colton would pick up a second one if necessary. But I hadn’t really thought of Colton putting Milo in my car. The gesture seems so…domestic.
I bump my shoulder against Indi’s. “Welcome to Colton’s spontaneous side. It’s his most natural state, so I recommend getting used to it.” I lower my voice. “Lucky for us, though, the coffee shop has a no shoes, no shirt, no problem policy. Barefoot in the summer is ideal anyway.”
Indi shakes her head as she stands. “Would your grandmother actually drive by and see the griddle in the trash? What, is it illegal to get rid of something like that?”
“My grandmother?” I say, smiling. “No. But one of her friends might. It’s not illegal either, no. But what better things do they have to do than speculate on why so and so discarded what looks like a perfectly good appliance?”
“Small towns,” she says decidedly, “are quirky.”
Colton leans over in the passenger seat to honk the horn dramatically. Through the bug-spotted windshield, I see Milo crack up in the backseat. If Colton had blond hair, or Milo had dark hair, I’d think they were truly father and son. Not just looks-wise, but their mannerisms and personalities are eerily similar.
“For the record,” I tell Indi, linking my arm through hers, “small lake towns are the quirkiest.”
Indi laughs like she can’t tell if I’m serious, but she hops into the backseat of my Bronco as Colton is telling Milo a knock-knock joke about nuns. When he says the punchline—nun, who? nun-ya business—Milo absolutely loses it to the giggles, even though he likely doesn’t understand the joke. I shake my head, and Indi asks if that’s the best Colton’s got. Moments later, we pile into the coffee shop, laughing at Colton’s ridiculously cheesy jokes.
Barefoot and in pajamas, we continue laughing over buttery blueberry muffins until both our bellies and hearts are full.
“We do not need Lucky Charms,” Indi tells Milo an hour and a half later.
Colton decided to stay at the lake house so he could take care of some things. Indi, Milo, and I headed right back downtown, this time for groceries. I brought what I had from my apartment when I moved, but with the boys, a few vegetables, cereal, and enough ground beef for one won’t last a day.
Now we’re standing in the middle of the cereal aisle, Milo and Indi in a standoff over Lucky Charms. Sam’s favorite cereal, ironically.
“But why?” Sitting in the largest part of the cart, Milo blinks up at Indi. Then, with a grin, he holds up three fingers. “I need three reasons.”
I pretend to find the oatmeal display explicitly fascinating while trying to stifle my laughter.
“That rule is really only for me when you—Ugh. Never mind.” Indi pulls the smallest box of Lucky Charms from the shelf and points at Milo. “If your skin turns green or blue or red from the food dyes, that’s on you.”
Milo cackles and carefully sets the box next to him in the cart. Colton would probably grab at least three more boxes when I’m not looking, and by the time we finished shopping, the cart would be full of items we do not need.
“Hey, Milo, can you smile for a quick picture?” I pull my phone from my tote bag. “We’ll send it to Colton. I need to see if he wants anything.”
“I bet he likes Lucky Charms,” Milo says smugly to Indi. To me, he smiles in a way that looks cute on a child but would be considered feral on an adult. Eyes squeezed closed, nose wrinkled, teeth bared.
I send it to Colton. Anything you want from Falls Market while we’re here?
He replies instantly: Looks like you’ve already got the necessities
A second text comes through a moment later: I’m going to see your dad, and Graham asked me to meet him for lunch. I’ll try to be back by around one or so
No rush, I type back. My thumbs hover over the keyboard. I chew on my lip while Indi pushes the cart toward the produce section. Tell Dad hi for me, will you?
Absolutely, he replies. A link comes through. Listen to this at some point before I get back. It’s for your Choose Happy playlist
I tap the link. It opens to Love Myself by Andy Grammar in Spotify.
I don’t have a Choose Happy playlist, I say.
You didn’t, he says back, but now you do.
And by the way, he adds, if you think for one more second that you’re not needed this summer, I will personally tickle you until you call Uncle and promise not to think that anymore. Got it?
Laughing, I reply, Got it.