living room. He lay on the couch and closed his eyes, resting his forearm over them. His thoughts were so full of Leah, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the parts of himself he gave to her and the girls couldn’t exist for anyone else. He lowered his arm, realizing how he should have responded to her.
I’m only me because you’re you.
Maybe they were fated to be after all.
Chapter Thirteen
GINGER HADN’T BEEN kidding about making a day out of cooking while Tank and the guys went for their Sunday ride. Leah and the girls had arrived after lunch, and Ginger and Madigan had shuttled them straight to the grocery store. Growing up with a busy single father, Leah had learned that errands should be handled swiftly, with no dallying. She carried that lesson forward the way she did everything he’d taught her and had always tried to have River watch the girls while she shopped, because it took twice as long with them in tow. But Ginger doled out lessons like she did hugs, as if she had a never-ending supply, suggesting that kids took pride in learning responsibility and would enjoy cooking more and develop a better appreciation for it if they were included in every step of the process. That seemed a heavy load for such little girls, but as the girls collected ingredients, picked out pears and vegetables and put them in baggies, she saw pride on their little faces at their jobs well done.
Now Ginger’s kitchen was filled with laughter, chatter, and the sounds of Ginger and Madigan singing to music playing on an old-fashioned radio on the counter. The girls had been as intrigued by the radio as they had been by Mike’s old television set. Madigan danced as she made pie crust, taking the girls’ hands and spinning them around the room, which looked like it had been hit by a hurricane. The countertops were covered with dozens of ingredients and dishes in various stages of preparation. There was flour everywhere, and Junie and Rosie were sticky messes, but they were having the best time. They’d helped make two loaves of corn bread and two trays of sliced zucchini fries with Parmesan cheese, which were ready for the oven, and an enormous pot of homemade marinara sauce loaded with vegetables and Grandma Hilda’s famous meatballs, which was simmering on the stove. The girls had made the oddly shaped meatballs, some as small as peas, others the size of baseballs, because Junie had insisted that Tank needs big ones, to which Rosie had added, He a pig!
“Like this, Gingy?” Junie asked.
Leah loved the nickname her girls had coined for Ginger. She looked up from the pears she was cubing for Tank’s and Conroy’s favorite dessert, pear and cranberry crumble, and warmed at the sight of her girls standing on stools on either side of Ginger. They were using rolling pins on mounds of dough for buttermilk biscuits. The three of them wore bibbed aprons and chef hats that were frayed and stained. They were the same aprons and hats that Ginger had used with her own children, which made the wonderful day feel even more special.
“Yes. That’s perfect.” Ginger patted Junie’s hand.
“I perfect!” Rosie exclaimed as she pushed her rolling pin over the dough.
Ginger tapped Rosie’s nose. “Yes, you are, Rosie Posey. Maybe you and Junie will grow up to be cooks.”
Rosie beamed.
“I’m going to draw stowies on people when I get bigger,” Junie said.
Ginger put her hand over her heart with a dreamy expression. “I think that’s a lovely idea.” She got that dreamy look in her eyes a lot around the kids.
“Juju, why do you want to draw stories?” Madigan asked as she made the topping for the crumble.
“So people never forget them.” Junie rolled the dough. “I’m gonna get Wiver on me like Tank has.”
“Me too!” Rosie patted her stomach. “Wight heah.”
Ginger and Madigan looked curiously at Leah.
“He tattooed River’s name on the left side of his stomach. I didn’t know he’d done it until afterward,” Leah explained.
“I’m not surprised,” Ginger said. “All of his tattoos are meaningful.”
Leah had recently found that out. They’d spent the last few nights exploring each other’s bodies. Between steamy kisses and mind-numbing orgasms, she’d traced many of his tattoos, and he’d shared the stories behind them. They hadn’t gone all the way yet, but there was an intimacy, a closeness between them, that she’d never imagined possible. Tank was gentle when he needed