saw the toddler fly above Luke and Mike’s heads early that evening. Rori didn’t care how elastic the tramp material was, the little girl had been too fragile to hit it from that height. But before Rori could do anything, Mike had calmly reached out and plucked the laughing child out of the air and into his arms.
If Rori could go back in time and un-see that moment, she’d do it in a heartbeat. Because that had been the moment that cracked the dam in her mind of imagining what kind of father Mike Cannon would be. From there, it was a short step to imagining what his babies would look like, and from there an even shorter step to imagining how it might be to make those babies with him.
And some things, once imagined, could never be taken back.
Rori thought all this while considering his outstretched hand. Then, before she could answer, it retracted.
“Maybe just give it a try on your own first,” he suggested, stepping back. “Just embrace the fact that it will be awkward and unsuccessful, and pay attention to how it feels. I’ll step in if it looks like you’re going to kill yourself.”
“Very comforting,” Rori drawled, not knowing what else to say.
Mike took another step away, putting one foot on the bar of the tramp. “I have faith in you. Go for it.”
Rori hesitated, still debating whether or not to let the weirdness of the whole situation slide. He’d been watching her from the roof, for heaven’s sake. How was that normal?
“You’re weird, you know that?” she said, building up some bounce. She expected him to deny it.
“Well, at least I’m not boring. Throw your arms forward and your forehead toward your knees,” he said instead. “You’ll flip naturally.”
She did as instructed, executing something closer to an aerial than an actual flip and landing on her side. Not very dignified.
“Good start,” he said. “Do it again.”
And she did. Several times. Until somehow she ended up landing on her feet after a flip, before falling on her butt in surprise.
“See?” he said, offering her a hand up. “You’re a natural.”
Seeing Mike’s sculpted hand reach for her and knowing what she would feel if she let him pull her up was enough to bring Rori back to reality.
She would be wise to keep her distance. Ignoring his hand, Rori stood up on her own.
“Tell me, Mike. Why is my fiancé not out here with us? Is it not improper for you to be out here alone with me?”
“I, well, I guess. Yeah.” He stepped away, sticking his hands in his back pockets and stretching the cloth of his shirt across the contours of his chest. She shouldn’t look. If she looked she would never get to sleep that night. She would either stay up sketching him or stare at the ceiling in his old bedroom imagining herself sculpting him. Rori may not be sure about many things at this point, but she knew for a fact that it was too soon to ask Mike Cannon to take off his clothes for her. Eyes first. Then smile. Then hands. Once she was immune to the three of those, she could take on his body. But only when she was immune to everything else.
“And where is Luke now? Asleep or playing video games?”
“Hmmm,” Mike said, glancing at their shared house. “Can I plead the Fifth on that one?”
Rori pursed her lips and studied him. “From what I understand, America’s Fifth Amendment protects people from incriminating themselves, not others, which would make it irrelevant here. But it doesn’t matter. You answered the question, I believe.”
She liked that he shifted uneasily at her assessment.
“Since we’re here Mike, and we have a little privacy, why don’t we talk? Because I sense that you have some reservations about my engagement to Luke.”
“Sure,” he said without hesitation and she found herself studying his neck. Artistically necks had never been her thing, but maybe she was venturing into new territory with this guy. “Two weeks? That’s not enough time to know if you want to spend a life with someone. We both know that.”
“It’s enough,” she countered, raising her eyes to his. “I know what I want in a man and Luke fits the bill. I will be happy with him.”
“I’m sorry, did I hear you right?” Mike asked as she watched his jaw flex in the white light of the moon. Beautiful. “You think the path to happily ever after is a pre-emptive checklist?”