He grins at me. “Couple of boxes of what?” he asks. He slouches like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I could wring his neck right now. “Couple of boxes of condoms,” I whisper. There’s no one else in the store, so I don’t know why I’m whispering.
“Oh!” He reaches behind the counter and retrieves a bag he has already packed. “I already added them to your tab,” he says with a wink.
“I still owe you for the last box.”
He sticks out his fist and waits for me to bump my knuckles against his. “I’m glad to see you so happy,” he says quietly. “And Abigail too.”
“I’m going to marry that girl as soon as I can,” I tell him.
He nods and grins. “You should get right on that,” he says in agreement. “Although the bracelet was a sweet touch.”
When I get in the truck, Abigail is sitting in the seat with her seatbelt on, running her thumb under the bracelet, back and forth. “What took you so long?” she asks.
I grin at her. “We were out of condoms.”
She points toward the door. “You just bought condoms from Shy?” She covers her face with her hands. “I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.”
“You’ll be fine.” I put the truck in reverse and back out. “It was his idea.”
“Oh my God,” she breathes. After a few moments of silence, she fingers her bracelet again. “Does this mean we’re going steady?”
I nod. “This means you can’t go steady with anyone else.”
She stares hard at me. “I wouldn’t.”
I grin. “I know.”
She raises one brow. “Pretty confident, huh?”
“I know you love me because what’s not to love?” But I’m not nearly as confident as I’m acting. Deep inside, I’m terrified. I’m terrified she’s going to find someone better. Terrified she’ll find someone she likes a little more. Someone who doesn’t have quite such a checkered past.
“Have you ever taken Mitchell to visit his mother’s grave?” she suddenly asks.
I shake my head. “I have not.”
She plays with her bracelet. “Has your mom?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Do you have pictures of her around?”
“No.”
“You should think about that a little. He needs to know who his mother was.”
“He sees my in-laws regularly,” I tell her.
“Not the same. She was his mother. She deserves to have that place in his life. Be sure he knows who she was.”
I nod. It’s a good idea. And not one I’d ever thought of. “My mom has his baby books. I’ll see if I can get them so I can show him some pictures.”
“You really loved her, didn’t you? Melanie, I mean.”
“Yeah.” I reach for her hand. “I did.”
She stares silently out the window for a moment. “Do you know why I like the rain so much? Walking in it? Standing in it?”
I always just assumed there was no discernible reason for her to stand in the rain. “No. Why do you like the rain?”
“When I was a little girl, it’s one of the very few memories I have with my parents. One time they came up here for a weekend when I was about seven years old.” She sucks in a breath. “Anyway, we spent the whole weekend together, which was something we didn’t do very often. But it rained the whole weekend. I sat and stared out the front door, and it was absolutely pouring rain.” She grins. “My dad grabbed me and picked me up and we walked outside in the rain, and he spread his arms and said, ‘The rain’s not so bad, Abigail.’ And we stood there in the rain so long that my mom came to check on us, and she stood in the rain with us. We jumped in puddles and walked down to the dock, and we just sat there and got soaked.”
“And that’s why you like the rain?” I ask, not able to fully understand.
“No, not so much the rain, but I like the memory of that day. My parents were always busy, and they sent me to Gran’s every summer, every school holiday. Every day I wasn’t in school, they took me to Gran’s house. So I don’t have a lot of good memories of them, since I was never with them much. Even now our relationship is strained because I never knew who they were. I didn’t know them. And they were my parents. All children deserve to know their parents, to be told they are desperately loved. And I’m pretty sure that your late