Liam shrugs. “It’s true. He does have to.”
Ethan rolls to the driveway, and Liam calls out to him, “Why don’t you just go inside and clean up and set your backpack down?”
“Then can we go to the park?” Ethan looks at me and asks, “Want to come with us, January?”
I smile, glancing at Liam, who mouths, Only if you want to.
“I’d love to.”
Ethan runs inside as Liam asks, “What are you doing tonight? After you’ve played baseball?”
“Do you want me to sneak up on the roof?”
“Let’s get a blanket and lie there and stare at the stars.”
“You have to stop saying these things.”
“What? Thoroughly romantic things that make you fall for me?”
My chest flips. Is it that obvious I’m falling for him? Am I trying to hide it? No, I’m not. “Yes, those things.”
“Actually, why don’t we sit outside by the pool after he goes to bed?”
“So we don’t roll off the roof while making out?”
“Exactly.”
“Beauty and brains. How can I resist the hot British vet next door?”
“I don’t think you can,” he says, all deadpan and then some.
After Wednesday and I join them for a casual baseball game, running the bases, striking out, hitting pop flies and the occasional dinger, we debate the greatest ballplayers of all time.
I say Sandy Koufax.
Ethan says Steve Trout.
Wednesday says he’s wrong.
We all laugh, and on the way home, we run into Ethan’s new friend Travis and his two dads. Ethan makes plans with Travis to play baseball that weekend, and I catch up with his parents, who run the local hardware shop.
“We’ve got some new power tools you’ll like,” David says, his blue eyes glinting with delight.
“Don’t you just know the way to a lady’s heart,” I say with a wink.
David’s husband, Rob, wraps an arm around him. “Yes. Either power tools or a dress with pockets as my friend Jackson always says,” he says.
I poke Liam. “Take notes. Dresses with pockets, and drills.”
Liam taps his temple. “It’s all been filed away.”
We say goodbye and continue on our way. The four of us—Liam, Wednesday, Ethan, and me—chat about dogs versus cats, pizza versus cake, and whether Wednesday could hack into the Dodgers roster and list Ethan as a pinch hitter one night.
She says she could.
Ethan doubts her.
She gives him a noogie.
He squirms away, cackling.
Liam and I just smile and laugh, holding hands, and it feels a little bit like magic.
When we reach our homes, we disperse, and after dinner with my daughter and time spent reviewing her English essay and finishing some invoicing, I say good night to her.
She gets in bed with a book and a pointed stare. “I know what you’re doing.”
I just shrug and say, “What?”
“I know you’re going over there to see him. I know you’re doing that every night.”
“Do you want me to deny it?”
She laughs. “You couldn’t deny it if you tried. It’s so obvious from the googly-eyed way you do everything these days.”
“Am I googly-eyed?”
“You are so googly-eyed.”
“Good night, Spawn.”
As I leave her room, I send a note to Alva.
* * *
January: Am I googly-eyed?
* * *
Alva: Over the guy next door that you’re falling madly for?
* * *
January: Yes.
* * *
Alva: I’m cackling so hard right now I’m actually screaming.
* * *
January: Are you serious?
* * *
Alva: Can’t you hear me?
* * *
January: Am I that transparent?
* * *
Alva: I can read you. Also, stop analyzing everything. Go live your life. Go be googly-eyed for your neighbor. You deserve it.
* * *
I don’t know that anyone deserves anything, but I know this—I’m taking my happiness. As I leave my house, shutting the door behind me, I catch a glimpse of the sparrows on my arms.
I have the strangest realization. Heading over to see Liam feels like freedom. It feels like me chasing my freedom. I don’t know what to make of that feeling. I simply know that it is.
I join him in the backyard on the chaise lounge by the pool, snuggling next to him as he wraps an arm around me. We stare up at the September sky, and he points to the constellations. “This is the cheesy scene in a movie where I tell you that’s Cassiopeia, and then I say something like You’re prettier than Cassiopeia.”
I swat at him. “One, you’re making fun of all romantic movies. Two, you’re making fun of me.”
“Yes, I am doing all of that, and I am delighting in it.”
“You’re evil.”
He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I am. Yet you’re still here. You like my evil side.”
“How can you take a wildly romantic moment and turn it into a mockery?”
He arches a brow. “One of my many talents?”
“You have a lot of talents.”
We let the teasing fade as we snuggle together. As he presses a kiss to my cheek, he whispers, “It is nice being romantic with you.”
