“Mom,Mom. We don’t need pictures. This isn’t a high school dance,” Micah tells his mom. Not that it’s stopping her. She’s insisting on taking photos of everyone together. Cassie, Peyton, and I got ready at his parents’ house with Mrs. Kringle clucking over us the entire time. From hairpins to clear fashion tape, the woman thought of everything.
Now we’re all in the living room along with our dates for the evening. The whole space feels crowded with so many of us here. Mr. Kringle is even here. He’s in a recliner in the living room and he’s baby talking with Abby. He’s clearly enamored with his granddaughter and not for the first time, I wish I had a big extended family. A lot of people who surrounded me with love and affection. What would my life have been like growing up if it hadn’t been just Mom and my siblings?
Mrs. Kringle pulls down the camera which is trained on me and scowls at her son. “You never went to any of the dances. I have no pictures of my son all dressed up and taking a pretty girl out to a dance.” She points to the fireplace mantle where she has photos of a young Ledger with Peyton on his arm and West with a very young, flushed Cassie smiling up at him adoringly. “Now, Micah Jonathan Kringle, you can give me one phony smile for the cameras.”
He scowls back at her but it’s obvious from his expression that he adores her. I’m pretty sure he’s going to give her whatever she wants. He sends her flowers every week. A pretty wildflower bouquet that sits on her kitchen counter. That’s just one of the many things she told me about her son while I was getting ready. The woman is an encyclopedia on him. But I noticed there weren’t any stories from before he was a teenager. It makes me think he was adopted late in life and that makes me sad for him.
“I never went to any of my school dances either,” I tell Micah.
He finally relents. “One photo, Ma. Just one.”
“Come on, give the woman what she wants, and we’ll be out of here faster,” Ledger tells Micah. He has his arm around Peyton’s hip in a possessive gesture. She said he’s been acting weird all night, ever since he saw her in that dress.
“Five more minutes, Mom,” West warns. He’s been looking at Cassie like he’s about to call this whole thing off, take her back to their home, and tear that dress from her body.
“Now just one group shot and one of you together and one...” His mom continues talking, but I can’t pay attention to her anymore. Micah has squeezed next to me for the group photo.
“Sorry about this,” he murmurs in my ear, his breath hot against the skin of my neck.
I fight a shiver at his nearness. Can the rest of his family tell how much he affects me? Can they sense the feelings I have for him? I’ve been trying so hard to maintain my poker face around everyone.
My fingers find his, and I give his hand a little squeeze. “I like it.”
His posture relaxes. Was he worried about his family embarrassing me? I don’t ever want him thinking that I don’t care for his big, overbearing family. “I like them too.”
“I like you,” he murmurs right before he brushes a kiss across my lips.
“No making out like horny teenagers in my house,” Mr. Kringle calls.
Micah pulls away from our kiss and glares in his father’s direction. “Dad! Don’t use that word in front of my daughter.”
He beams down at her. “She doesn’t know what any of it means, do you, princess?”
After a flurry of pictures from Mrs. Kringle, it’s finally time to leave.
“Maybe she should come with us,” I tell Micah when I see the way he’s looking at Abby. He’s clearly torn about leaving her behind. He leaves her under my care all the time but I’m usually hanging out in the office with him or at home with him. Yeah, he’s busy handling work or dealing with household responsibilities, but she’s always nearby.
“Nonsense,” Mr. Kringle insists. “I was promised a night with my granddaughter, and I’m going to take advantage of it. You can see her again in a few hours.”
“She’ll be fine, Micah,” Mrs. Kringle says, ushering us toward the door. The others have already left but it’s different for Micah. Half of his heart is staying behind.
I tug on his hand, pulling him onto the porch. It’s hard for me too. But he’ll have to trust her with them eventually. After all, I want a lot more dates with my man in the future.
“OK, but call me if she gets upset or spits up. Sometimes, she does this thing where she starts to spit up and you think it’s over but then it keeps coming. If that happens, her tummy gets—”
Mrs. Kringle closes the door in his face, ending his lecture.
He scowls at the door for a moment before turning his attention to me. “You think they’ll call?”
“They’ll call you if there’s a problem,” I reassure him. I press a kiss to his lips to distract him. I meant for it to be a quick, chaste peck. But the moment our lips connect, Micah is deepening the kiss. He runs his tongue along my bottom lip, nipping until I give him access. His tongue explores my mouth, stroking gently until suddenly he’s stopping.
Mr. Kringle is standing there with Abby in his arms. “You’re giving the neighbors a show.”
“We don’t have neighbors,” Micah protests.
“You still can’t maul her like an animal on my porch. At least get her to the dance, son.”
I chuckle even though my cheeks are warm. I do feel like a teenager when I’m around Micah, but in a good way. In that crazy can’t-keep-my-hands-off-of-him type of way. If his kiss was any indication, Micah feels the exact same.