“I’m so happy for you. You’re even giving me hope. Maybe they aren’t all lying when they say, ‘It gets easier.’”
I laughed sympathetically. “Maybe they aren’t. That’s what it felt like today, anyway.”
“That’s all that matters.”
“You look pretty today,” Georgia told me at work the next morning. “I mean, you’re pretty every day, but you look especially glowy this morning.”
“Thanks.” I tied an apron around me and began gathering ingredients for spinach, ricotta, and bacon crepes. “Must be the sun I got yesterday. Or maybe the good night’s sleep.”
“A good night’s sleep.” Margot shook her head wistfully as she poured herself a cup of coffee. Beneath her blue eyes were the puffy bags worn by all new moms. “I remember those. Tell me I’ll have one again someday.”
“You will,” I said. “In about eighteen years. The only reason I managed to grab eight straight hours last night was because Abby slept at her grandparents’ house. Most nights she wakes me up at least once for something or other.”
“Did you guys have fun yesterday?” Georgia asked.
“We did. I’m so glad we went.” In fact, all I could think about was getting back there today. I’d brought my beach bag with me to work, figuring I might as well take Wes up on his invitation to hang out at the beach a little this afternoon.
The morning passed quickly since we were so busy, and the crepes were especially popular. Because I thought Wes might like to try the
m, I made an extra batch up after the last order from the dining room had been filled and put them in a container for him. Just after two, I said goodbye to Georgia and Margot and hurried out the door.
Despite the rain the night before, the weather today was hot and sunny, only a few puffy white clouds in the sky. I opened the sunroof on my Honda, tuned into a satellite radio station playing old standards and sang along as I drove, windows down, breeze rushing through my hair. It was the closest to happy I’d felt in a long time.
Wes answered my knock, smiling broadly when he saw me. “Hey, you. Come on in. How was work?”
“Good. Busy.” I went inside and held out the container. “I brought you something.”
“You did? What?”
“Spinach, ricotta, and bacon crepes. They were really popular today, and I thought you might like them.”
His eyes lit up. “My mouth is watering. Can I taste them?”
I laughed. “Yes! They’re yours. You don’t have to eat them now, but—”
“I’m eating them now.” He’d grabbed them and was already on his way into the kitchen. “This is perfect. I just came up to get something to eat.”
“Where is everybody?” I followed him, glancing around the quiet house.
“They’re all down on the beach. My mom got Abby a little fishing pole and my dad is showing her how to use it.” He took a fork from a drawer, set the container on the marble-topped island, and pried off the top. “Damn, that looks good. Wait, I should warm it up, right?”
“Here, I’ll do it.” I stuck the container in the microwave and nuked it for twenty seconds before setting it in front of him again. “There you go. Bon appetit.”
He dug in, moaning as he chewed the first bite.
I smiled. “You like them?”
“Are you kidding? God, between your cooking and my mother’s, I’m going to gain ten pounds in a month.”
“I doubt that.”
“Have you eaten? Share this with me.” Without waiting for me to answer, he grabbed another fork from the drawer and stuck it in my hand.
Normally I wouldn’t have, but I’d skipped lunch, and I was feeling unusually hungry. “Thanks.”
We ate standing next to each other at the island, and he told me about how much fun he had reading Abby a story, eating the breakfast she helped make this morning (chocolate chip pancakes with bananas), and looking through the old photo albums with her. “She loved the ones of Drew and me from kindergarten. She’s so excited to go.”
I nodded, then shoved the thought aside as I rinsed my fork and put it in the dishwasher. I’d deal with the kindergarten thing eventually, but not today. “I’m just going to throw my suit on,” I said, grabbing my bag and heading for the first floor bathroom, which Lenore called the “powder room.”