Page 87 of Came the Closest
Which is exactly what I’m doing today.
When I go downstairs—after changing three times before settling on navy slacks with a light blue Del Ray Development polo—I’m more skittish than normal. I jump out of my skin when Cheyenne, Indi, and Milo pop up from the opposite side of the kitchen island holding posters above their heads.
You’ve got this! Milo’s reads.
Good luck today! Indi’s says.
We believe in you! Cheyenne’s exclaims.
I drop my eyes from the signs to the people holding them, incapable of words. Milo grins, his pajamas sleep-wrinkled and his curls mussed. Indi pants, like holding up her poster is so physically taxing. Cheyenne smiles, wearing that soft expression I love so much.
“You made these?” I finally ask, setting my phone and wallet on the island.
Milo nods emphatically. “Uh-huh! Do you love them? I colored them and Inni drew the letters and Annie drew the shapes! We did them so many days ago.”
“Last Thursday,” Indi says. “In between wedding prep.”
Squatting in front of Milo, I hold my hands out. “Can I see yours, please?”
He places it in my hands and presses his palm into my shoulder. He points, balancing only on one foot. “Annie drew me a sailboat! I wanna go on one sometime, did you know that? But I don’t want it to fall over.”
“I did know that,” I tell him, nodding. Something itches in the recesses of my brain. “But it’s definitely not allowed to fall over. That would be very bad.”
“Uh-huh,” Milo agrees. “Very bad.”
Indi pops her lower lip out. “Don’t you wanna see my poster?”
Milo jumps up and down. “Yeah! Look at their posters!”
I set Milo’s poster on the counter, then I take my time studying Indi’s and Cheyenne’s. Other than Indi’s neat bubble letters, there’s one common denominator: sailboats. The itch of a thought becomes a fully-fledged idea.
“Cheyenne, can I talk to you alone for a minute?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes. “Sure…?”
I press my hand to her lower back to guide her out to the front porch. I’m pretty sure Indi mutters something like talk…right under her breath, but Milo starts petitioning to have Lucky Charms for breakfast and her focus turns to him.
“First order of business is this.” I lean down and kiss Cheyenne softly, fingertips under her chin. “Good morning, beautiful.”
Her shoulders relax under her sweatshirt. “Mm. Good morning to you too.”
“I love you,” I say.
I’d never said those three words to a woman before Cheyenne.
Now I want to say them all the time.
Cheyenne smiles. “I love you, too. But if this is you—”
“I think I should take Milo with me today.”
“—buttering up to me, don’t—Wait.” She stops, backtracking, and blinks up at me. “What?”
“I think,” I repeat, more slowly, “I should take Milo with me today.”
She’s quiet for a moment. I can nearly see her mind recalibrating, the wheels turning.
“In other words, you’re trying to butter up to the yacht club, then.”