Page 96 of When There Was You
Butch glares at her. “You will refrain from ever repeating it, dear sister.”
“Good luck with that, Paul Bunyan!” she teases.
“I’d like to find me a big, strong lumberjack,” Shelly says.
“Me too, sweetie,” Grandma Mabel adds.
“Jesus Christ,” Butch mutters. “I’ve got to get out this sorority. When are you coming over?”
I stop icing and bite back a laugh. “We’re wrapping up, so soon.”
He presses a kiss to my lips…in front of everyone. And believe me, this crowd’s watching—albeit discreetly. “Hurry,” he whispers.
“‘Bye lumberjack,’ on three,” Liz rallies. “One, two, three.”
Butch bolts for the foyer.
“BYE, LUMBERJACK!” we chant in chorus, chasing him out the door before we burst into fits of laughter.
After tuckingEmmy in for the night, Butch joins me downstairs. She let go of the “It’s a slumber party, so Jacqui needs to sleep with me” pleas once her father explained that grown-ups stay up longer and will be sharing a bed when it’s our bedtime. She clutched Lucky as a consolation as I read her a story (another plea). I wasn’t denying her that too—but was I ever unprepared for how such a small act would chokeme up. Maybe it’s the memories of my own dad reading to me, or how important books and writing are to me now, or simply that it’s the first time I’ve read a storybook to a child.
Butch stokes the fire to roaring and joins me on the sofa. I place my mug of hot tea on the coffee table and curl up next to him.
“I could get used to this,” he says quietly. He presses a kiss to my temple, and I sigh into it.
“You have no idea how easilyIcould get used to this.” With each hour logged with Butch, Emmy, and his family, I swear my heart recalibrates—almost tangibly—as if it’s patching up all the holes. It’s wonderful…and terrifying.
I tilt my head to look at him, and he tucks me closer into his side, cupping my jaw. When our mouths merge, it’s soft with an undercurrent of heat.
We part, and his expression turns roguish. “Ready to watch the movie?”
My eyes narrow, mining for clues. “Which one?”
“Something tells me you’re going like what I rented.” He picks up the remote, clicks a button, and the VHS plays.
The 20thCentury Fox logo appears with its signature searchlights and drumbeats. It fades to black before an old timey movie screen pops up. As the sepia film rolls, so do spots, scratches, and flecks as if it’s aged celluloid. I squeal as soon as I see “The Hole in the Wall Gang,” then clamp my palms over my mouth, remembering that Emmy’s sleeping.
It’sButch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
Some couples have songs, but us? We have a movie.This one.Butch’s answering grin only makes me happier. Pulling his face toward mine, I press my lips against his cheek. “You’re the best.”
The title sequence begins, and I settle in next to my man to rewatch this gem. Across the two hours, we hold hands, steal kisses, and laugh. Once it ends, we creep up to hisbedroom, settling into his huge bed like we’ve done it a thousand times. We’re both zonked, content in each other’s arms.
“G’night, Sundance.”
“G’night, Butch.”
We share one last kiss in the dark, and my eyes close.
I could get used to this,I think again, drifting into sleep.
Forty-Nine
Butch calls me at work the first Wednesday of December, and his strained greeting sets off my internal alarms. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he blurts it out.
“The custody hearing’s been scheduled. The fifth of January at 10 a.m.”
He hasn’t spoken much about this looming court battle, and I’ve been reticent to bring it up. From the tidbits he’s shared, it sounds as if he’s done all he can and given his attorney everything she asked for, including details, dates, and names for affidavits. As a man of action, he’s not treating it lightly, but he also doesn’t dwell on it.
