Page 107 of When There Was You
“Let me know if you plan on chopping any wood like that. I’ll bring my camera.”
He stops at the door, casting a baffled stare. “You’re ridiculous. You realize that’s not even remotely practical…or safe.”
I shrug. “Sex appeal is dangerous, Butch. That’s just a fact you’ll have to accept.”
He shakes his head, but I see him fighting a smile as he disappears. And it pleases me immensely.
Although I hate leaving this comfortable, ginormous mattress, I’m on a mission to make breakfast. I throw on some sweats and a T-shirt, brush my teeth, and pull my hair into a ponytail.
When I enter the kitchen, Butch looks up from making coffee. “Hey, I was coming back to bed.”
I slide my hands around his waist and trail kisses down his back, pressing one into the hollow between his shoulder blades. “I was worried you’d start breakfast, and I want to make it this morning.”
He shifts to face me, tugging me closer. “You do, huh?” His eyes are the same shade as the tiny ferns along the path. “Did I mention how much I love waking up with you today?”
“Not yet,” I answer with a smile.
“Ilovewaking up with you, baby.”
I shrug. “I could get used to it.”
He grins at what is fast becoming our saying. His lips press against mine and we share a languid kiss.
Emmy startles us when she enters making kissing noises. She promptly launches into the song immortalized in elementary school. “Daddy and Jacqui, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then?—”
Butch lunges at her, and she flees, shrieking. The chase is on, but he catches her handily and hauls her back to the kitchen. Nosing her pjs off her belly, he blows a loud raspberry on her ivory skin. Her giggles fill the air, and it’s the most glorious sound.
He releases her, bending on one knee to meet her at eye level. “Em, does it bother you if I kiss Jacqui?”
Her eyes flicker between her father and me. “I mean, it’s literally gross, but it’s your mouth.”
Butch and I both fight a laugh as he nods thoughtfully. “You know if something upsets you that you can tell me anytime, right?”
“Sure.”
“Good. I love you, kid.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
During our breakfastof pancakes and bacon, Emmy announces it’s Game Day. Essentially, the day you sift through your Christmas presents and play with any toys and games, read your new books, or mess around with whatever you want. It’s another Hamilton tradition—and a lovely idea.
After we finish our meal, Butch starts a fire in the hearth and goes upstairs to shower. Emmy asks if I’ll help set up her Lite-Brite, and I jump at the chance. I haven’t played with one since my own childhood, and it was always a favorite toy of mine.
I open it up and pull out the familiar light box with its black screened front. Next are all the colored pegs that fit into the holes. Several picture templates with pre-printed outlines are included (that’s new) plus the standard paper blanks.
“Want to freeform your own design or try one of these?” I ask.
“Let’s create one from scratch,” she says.
“I like your style, Emmy.”
She beams her cute smile, and I plug the unit into a nearby outlet and slide in a blank. I grab a bowl from the kitchen and dump in the pegs from the plastic bag. Emmy and I lie on our stomachs on the living room rug, and I wait for her instruction.
“Let’s make a butterfly!”
“I love that idea. Big enough to cover the whole screen?”
“Uh huh.”
