Page 56 of Crash into me
He opens a drawer, pulling out a spatula. “We can try.”
A few minutes later we have a cake that’s smeared with red, white, and blue.
“If it was closer to the fourth of July, this would do.” I laugh.
Foster picks up a smudge of icing and pops it on my nose. I smile, doing the same to him as we have a cute little food fight.
He leans his back against the wall, opening up his arms. “Come here.”
I walk into his embrace, and he kisses the American flag icing from my nose. “You know … Grandma is on shift tonight, so after Sophie goes to bed …” He waggles his brows.
Nerves settle through me like it’s our first time again. Last time, it was his goodbye. This time could be our forever. “If you’re lucky,” I tease, attempting to return to the groceries, but his arms wrap around me.
“You can’t run from me that easily.” His tone is playful, but the meaning and words are full of emotions we both don’t want to think about.
I sink into him. “Never.” I reply.
Then the door bursts open, and Sophie pulls Rita through the threshold. “I’m home!” she yells out, the tiny patter of her feet rushing to her big brother.
He kneels down, hugging her carefully. But she won’t break; she’s strong, so when she comes to hug me, I pick her up and give a squeeze. “Are you excited for movie night?”
“Yes!” She throws her head back dramatically. “Hospitals SUCK.”
I nod. “They totally do.” I set her down to embrace Rita.
She breathes me in, running her wrinkled hand through my hair. “Hey, sweet girl.”
“Thank you.” The two simple words mean more than she’ll ever know.
She pulls back, taking one last look at me. “Mario’s going to be home in an hour, and I’ve got to get dinner ready!”
* * *
It’s justthe three of us, full on sweets and American flag cake.
A storm is brewing outside, hurricane season showcasing its inevitable approach. The wind whips the palms, and lightning crackles. Sophie’s a little nervous, squeezed in between us on the couch.
I grab the clicker and flip through our options.
“I want to watch a scary movie!” Sophie belts.
“No, you don’t.” Foster laughs.
She rolls her eyes at him with all the sass of a child. “I do too!”
He throws his head back. “Okay, what do you want?”
“Hmm,” she thinks out loud, “the clown one.”
“IT?” My eyes widen. “How about Frozen?”
“No, that’s lame.” She tries to act cool. “Definitely IT.”
I don’t want to admit that I’m scared of clowns, so I pay it cool, shrugging. “IT, it is.”
She’s terrified when Georgie looks down the sewer, her hands grabbing both of ours. “Okay, okay … I see that you’re both scared.” She grins anxiously. “So we can watch Frozen instead.”
“Good choice,” I reply with a shiver.