is typically the case. “Can we go see the Butterfly Gardens next?”
“Absolutely.” His eyes float to mine. “Is that okay with you?”
“Of course.” I nod. “It’s their day, not mine.”
“No. It’s yours, too.” His voice is contemplative as he holds my gaze for a moment, then smiles at his girls. “Okay. Hands.” He holds both of his hands out to them. Charlotte eagerly takes one, grinning. Alyssa sneers in disgust, giving us a preview of what we have to look forward to as she nears adolescence.
“I’m eight, Dad,” she reminds him, placing her hands on her hips, mustering all the attitude she can at her age, which is quite a lot. “I’m past the holding hands stage.”
“Then maybe you’re too old for ice cream, too?”
“We have ice cream all the time.”
“Then, of course, you’re too old for our trip to Disney World this summer, aren’t you? I’m sure Auntie Molly will be more than happy to watch you while Charlotte and I go.”
Her expression is priceless, her eyes bulging, her jaw practically hitting the floor.
“Because Disney World will be a lot more crowded than this place, and you’d better believe I’ll be making you hold my hand there, too.”
Her lips curl, and I can sense the wheels turning in her head as she tries to come up with an argument, but she eventually relents.
“Fine.” She stomps over to him and grabs his other hand.
“Love ya, Lyss.”
“I love you, too, Dad.” She sighs, pretending to be irritated at the thought of having to hold his hand. I sigh along with her, a lightness in my chest as I watch how devoted Drew is to these girls. I’ve been lucky enough to witness him grow into his role as a dad. Now, as I watch the three of them walk hand-in-hand, I can barely even see the Drew I knew him to be during his hockey days. I see a different Drew…one who may be deserving of another chance.
“We can’t leave you out,” Charlotte says, reaching for my hand and grasping it in hers so the four of us can walk with our hands linked. My breath catches as I look from Charlotte to Drew. It’s such a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes of the little person she’s becoming. “You’re part of our family, too, Auntie Brook!” Then she shoots her wide eyes to Drew’s as we maneuver through the large crowds. “Daddy, since Auntie Brook’s part of our family, she should come to Disney World with us! Auntie Molly was supposed to, but she can’t anymore because she’s cooking our cousin in her tummy.”
“She’s not cooking—” He stops himself. I can only imagine what happened to cause Charlotte to think Molly’s cooking their cousin. By the flustered look on Drew’s face, I gather it’s one conversation he has no desire to relive anytime soon. “Auntie Brook has her own commitments. She’ll be taking a lot of time off from work for her wedding and honeymoon.”
He looks to me for confirmation. A heaviness settles in my chest. I still don’t know my status with Wes. I haven’t spoken to him since our phone call yesterday. For all intents and purposes, he expected me to show up at ten o’clock this morning to have our engagement photos taken. Instead, I turned my cell phone off without a single word to him about my whereabouts. It’s childish, but he deserves a taste of his own medicine. Moreover, it gives me time to figure out what I want. I’m not sure what that is anymore.
As much as I want to agree to Charlotte’s idea, I simply smile a tight smile, giving nothing away. To be truthful, a week at Disney World with Drew and the girls sounds infinitely more exciting than spending several weeks in Africa, which Wes planned without consulting me.
“What’s a honeymoon?” Charlotte asks.
“It’s a vacation a couple takes after they get married,” I reply.
Charlotte shifts her eyes to me, considering my response. “You should marry Daddy instead. Then you can come to Disney World on your moon trip.”
“It doesn’t work like that, sweetie,” I say, doing everything not to show any unease about the subject. As far as everyone else is concerned, I’m hopelessly in love with Wes. For now, I need them all to continue thinking just that. “But I know you’re going to have an incredible time with your daddy. When you come home, I want to hear all about it.”
“Okay,” she replies, a bit of despondency in her