I drew in a deep inhale, closed my eyes, and allowed my olfactory senses to recall some of the most beautiful memories I’d ever possess. And I didn’t need to remember everything I’d lost after the plane crash to know those four days with Bowen were some I would treasure forever.
With my lungs full, I held it down for Sugar to get a good sniff.
He bounced on my legs, trying to take it in his mouth. My poor, sweet boy missed his dad almost as much as I did.
“Me too, Sugs. Me too.”
With Bowen’s shirt in hand, I lured him down the hall. I quickly slipped out of my clothes and into Bowen’s shirt and then flipped the light off. Sugar used the staircase at the foot of the bed to climb up and join me, sniffing me from head to toe as if Bowen might suddenly appear from under the covers.
God, I could be so lucky.
With me, Sugar was a boob man, preferring to sleep directly on the center of my chest. I laughed as he settled on my shoulder the way he had with Bowen. I snapped a quick selfie of the two of us and then burrowed into the covers.
The bed was lonely and cold after having shared one for the last few days.
But since I couldn’t have him in person, I closed my eyes with a smile, hoping my subconscious would bring me the next best thing.
“Where did you find this?” Cassidy gasped as we huddled around a large black box in the center of her tall four-poster bed.
“Don’t ask me. This was all Remi,” Bowen said with his arm tight around my shoulders, a knowing dimple dancing on his cheek.
Nervously chewing on my nail, I peeked up at her. “I know it’s a lot, but I found it online, and seriously, it wasn’t that expensive if you consider that it’s vintage.”
Her long, black lashes fluttered at me as if she’d heard what I was saying but couldn’t quite believe her eyes. “You bought him a dummy?”
“It’s Charlie Chaplin. Every good ventriloquist needs a Chaplin.”
Another round of the blinking. “Remi, are you crazy? I love my son more than my own life, but not even I am crazy enough to buy a six-year-old a five-hundred-dollar dummy for his birthday.”
It was six hundred—hence the aforementioned part about it being vintage. It was not the time to mention it though.
“I love the boys. They mean the world to me. Seeing that smile on Preston’s face…” I sighed. “It will be completely worth every single penny to me. I know it’s kind of a big gift for a kid. I just don’t want you to be mad.”
“Of course I’m mad. I bought him a new baseball bat for a sport he desperately wants to quit and some books. When he sees this thing, he’s going to ask you to adopt him.”
“It gets worse too.” I tipped my head back to look at my man. My stomach fluttered when our eyes locked. He was all but beaming at me. “Bowen got him an iPod loaded with smooth jazz hits.”
“Oh my God,” she complained. “First of all, you two are seriously making me look bad. Secondly, why is my kid a seventy-year-old man?”
Bowen popped one shoulder in a half shrug. “Trust me, of all the freak genes he could have gotten from you, a little jazz is the least of your worries.”
She glared at her brother. A typical sibling stare-off.
“So, it’s okay?” I asked timidly. “I can give it to him?”
Her face got soft, and she glanced up at Bowen before sweeping her gaze back to mine. “Remi, you’re family. You don’t need to ask. My kids adore you already, but if you two feel the need to bribe them with lavish gifts to make sure Tyson never becomes their favorite, I highly support this cause.”
Bowen chuckled, and I smiled huge, the weight of the world melting from my shoulders.
“Okay, good,” I said. “Because I can’t return it, and while hiding it around the house to scare the crap out of this guy does sound mildly entertaining, I’d rather it be put to good use.”
“What the hell?” Bowen objected.
Cassidy patted him on the chest. “I feel like scaring the crap out of my brother is the best use of all. But whatever you think.” She closed the box, straightening the big red bow on the top. “He’ll absolutely love it. It’s too much, and you didn’t have to do it, but you have officially scored yourself a spot in the birthday hall of fame.”
“I told you so,” Bowen sang into the top of my hair as we followed her out of the bedroom and down a grand split staircase.
“Nobody likes a know-it-all,” I shot back, but my smile was too big for it to have packed any heat.
