Kensley

 

I didn’t tell the girls that Liam and Guinness were going to be at the park, in fear that he wouldn’t show up.

He was too kind.

Surely it was an act.

A ploy.

A cover-up of some sort.

He heard my ex say nasty things about my…my…vagina.

I couldn’t even manage to think the words p…Cu…

Yeah.

Vagina.

He heard nasty things about me, but still, he talked to me, he wanted to hang out with me and the girls.

Who is this guy, even?

“Can we swing first today, mama?” London asks as we walk toward Pepper Grove. Today, she lets me hold her hand while Sawyer gallops in front of us. I managed to pull Sawyer’s hair into a small top knot, and the front hairs that are too fine to do much of anything are swept to the side in fancy side swept bangs.

She’s fancy, my now nineteen-month-old.

I’m going to have to remember to take her picture when we get home. I took London’s pictures every month until she was two; I plan on doing that with Sawyer and the baby.

“We can swing first, sure.” I shake London’s hand gently, making her giggle.

I need her sweet giggle.

This morning, right when she’d woken up, the first thing she asked was where her daddy was. Why he talked to her yesterday but then didn’t come home to her now.

I didn’t have answers for her.

But I wasn’t going to lie to her, either.

“I like the swings,” London is saying, and I’m listening with half an ear as I scope out the park.

Moms.

Kids.

A stroller or two.

I may not have told the girls about Liam because I didn’t want them to be disappointed, but to be honest, I’m going to be the disappointed one if he doesn’t show.

It’s silly of me to have such thoughts for a guy I barely know, and I blame the lack of relationship with Mark.

We near the swings and Sawyer doesn’t change her gallop; I clench my jaw as she gallops into the uneven surface, afraid that she’ll fall.

She loses some of her balance, but my girl keeps going, her gallop now turning into a run as she heads for the swings.

I have both girls swinging, and telling London, “In…out…” when she interrupts her swinging lesson.

“’you think that man and his dog will be here today? Maybe we can have lunch with him and the dog. At that place that had dogs.”

“We already ate lunch, silly goose,” I answer, brushing over every other part of that comment.

She tips her head and body back, her hair—down today at her insistence, and by insistence, I mean tears—swinging in a curtain of gold as she goes forward and backward. “But what about the man? And his dog? I liked him.” London pulls her body up again—a game I used to play as a girl. If you bring your body up at the right time, your stomach drops like it does on a rollercoaster. “That tickled,” she giggles, and I smile, knowing the feeling.

“I don’t know, baby. Maybe.”

I push against her back gently then, with my other hand, push Sawyer’s swing. “Im!” she yells, no doubt picking up on who her sister’s talking about. “Im.” She nods and then goes into her Sawyer spiel, and I can’t help but grin.

It won’t be long until she’s completely past the baby talk. She has more words every day.

My baby girl is growing up.

The baby in my belly takes that moment to kick, no doubt trying to remind me that I have another one to go through it all with.

I absently rub my hand over the spot that he/she kicked.

I’m terrified to do a gender scan.

Beyond petrified.

If this baby is a boy—which I have a gut feeling the baby is—what would Mark do? I have a consultation appointment with a lawyer this week, and my list of questions is a mile long.

Thank God there wouldn’t be divorce and the splitting of things; I have no problem leaving Mark’s things to Mark.

I refuse to give him anything more than partial custody of the kids.

Refuse.

He isn’t ever home anyway! He never wants to be with them! What would he want custody of them for?

“Im!”

I jerk my eyes from my laser focus on the back of Sawyer’s head, and shake my own, clearing it of the thoughts.

“I don’t know, Sawyer.”

“No, mama!” London yells, arching her body on the swing so the toes of her Minnie Mouse Keds scrape the ground beneath her. She’s out of her swing before I can stop her. “Liam! He’s here!”

I look in the direction London is pointing, all while trying to slow Sawyer’s swing because she’s literally trying to climb out of the bucket seat while it’s moving, and sure enough, coming down the way is Liam and his boxer.

I try to take him in quickly while he’s still far enough away to maybe not notice.

He clearly isn’t here to run today, as he’s wearing jeans, a t-shirt that stretches across his chest just so, and sunglasses on his eyes.

He also chose to wear a baseball cap again today.

Some guys don’t look good in hats; Mark being one of them. He looked like he was trying too hard when he wore them.

But not Liam.

The backward cap thing works well on him.

Then, even from here, I can see his lips kick up in a crooked grin, and that? That really works well on Liam.

What’s the grin for, though?

Because London is jumping in excitement?

Or that Sawyer’s scrambling, obviously ready to see her new friend?

…Or is it maybe because he caught me checking him out?

I swallow hard and get busy pulling Sawyer out of the swing. She fights to be put down, but I don’t know that she realizes her ‘im has a dog that’s much larger than she is.

“London, stay close,” I direct as Sawyer and I walk to the other side of the swings. London is jumping around but stays by my side. Liam stops at a bench and says something that has Guinness sitting and looking up at him, his tongue out.

Then Liam looks up, directly at the three of us, and waves us over.

“Eek!” London squeals. “I’m so excited!” She’s dancing with it.

“Take my hand, please,” I say, holding mine out. Between an antsy four-year-old and an impatient nineteen-month-old, I have my hands full, but this is nothing new.

London takes my hand without a battle. She’d likely be dragging me if her feet weren’t continuously getting caught in the sand.

Liam pulls his sunglasses off and reaches behind him, hooking them on the back neckline of his shirt in a way that guys do, that I don’t really understand but…whatever.

I’m just somewhat surprised that Liam is actually here—and that tells me I underestimate him. That maybe, just maybe, Liam is the type of guy who stands by his word. The thought gives me warmth.

As we near, I can see that Guinness is shaking in his own excitement and that Liam has a tight fist around his leash, only giving the dog a foot, if even, if he were to decide to stand up and lunge.

I slow with the girls, just in case…

“He’s excited,” Liam confirms with a chuckle. “He loves kids, and I think he decided last weekend, he loves London. The moment he saw her today, there was a pep in his step.”

I’m still watching the dog skeptically and pull London closer into my side.

“Dogs are good judges of character,” he goes on. “Which can be flipped to tell you that he’s a good guy. Here.” Then, he sits back on the bench and pulls a reluctant Guinness to sit between his knees, wrapping his arms around the broad chested boxer and locking his hands over a white spot of fur.

“He’s not going anywhere.”

Sawyer’s still pushing to get down. “Sawyer, not yet.” But I take her and London closer.

When London reaches out and Guinness lifts his head, I yank her back.

“Mama!”

“It’s okay,” Liam’s chuckling. “Here, how about you first, mama,” he says with a wink up at me. Then, to London, “Promise me you’ll stand right there? Don’t move?”

London, completely enraptured with this man and his dog, nods quickly. She’ll do anything to be able to play with this dog.

But the way he’s shaking…

I can’t help but be nervous.

I mean, I grew up with cats. And Mark was allergic to anything with fur.

I turn my body so I’m between Guinness and Sawyer, just in case.

And slowly reach out my hand, my eyes locked on the amber ones staring up at me.

Guinness doesn’t even both sniffing my hand; he goes right in for a thick, slobbery kiss.

Both London and Sawyer are giggling uncontrollably now.

“My turn, mama!” London says, jumping but still in her spot, surprisingly listening to Liam.

I wipe my palm against my leggings and tear my eyes from Guinness, who’s now looking at London longingly. “Careful, London.” I reach back and she takes my hand. As excited as she seems, there’s the smallest hesitation to her step. Her face is still wide and bright with her smile though.

London steps closer and Guinness starts to once again shake in his spot. He’s sitting but I can see his hind end moving from side to side.

“Reach out with your hand, London. Let him smell your fingers,” Liam directs, watching my daughter with a kind smile on his face.

London does and when Guinness reaches forward to smell her, I see as the cords of muscle in Liam’s forearms tighten, holding Guinness back.

My heart is pounding even though, deep down, I know I have nothing to be worried about.

A piercing shriek cuts through my thoughts and for a moment, I’m worried for my daughter’s safety…until I see she’s giggling, her arms wrapped around herself, hands on her shoulders, as Guinness gives her a wet kiss on her cheek.

“Mama, turn!” Sawyer yells, hitting my shoulder.

Liam pats the bench next to him. “Sit down.”

I do as he suggests and reluctantly move Sawyer to sit on my lap. She leans forward and awkwardly pats Guinness’s head. He swings it over his shoulder and gives her what looks like a puppy smile.

Then laps her hand up in a dog kiss, too.

“Can we play, mama? Can we?” London asks, stepping even closer to Guinness and, heaven help my heart, wrapping her arms around the dog’s neck. I notice as Liam pulls his arms around, his hands resting on the dog’s back now. Idly running up and down the boxer’s fur.

I look at Liam and he must see the worry there.

“He loves kids. I promise you, he’s never done anything to hurt a kid before. They’ll be right here.”

I find myself nodding even with my thoughts circling toward the potentially negative consequences.

“Okay.”

“Yay!” London’s squeals again and my eyes widen at the octave she hits.

“Goodness, girl,” I mumble but Liam’s laughing so I guess he doesn’t have an issue with the high-pitched excitement.

When Liam stands, I do too, but he shakes his head. “Sit, Kensley.” He takes both dog and girl and walks them to the back of the bench, so they can romp in the grass. After knotting the leash to the leg of the bench, Liam comes back to sit next to me. My eyes are focused just behind the bench though, where Guinness is already on his back, and London is patting his stomach—to Guinness’s obvious joy.

“That’s a friendship made in heaven,” Liam grins and I can’t help but smile at him too.

“Are you using your dog to get to me, Liam Hardt?”

“Never.” But then his grin deepens. “Is it working?”

I shake my head, my smile going nowhere. “I’ll never say.” Then, after brushing Sawyer’s bangs from her eyes, I ask her, “Do you want to play, sweetheart?”

She shakes her head, though, and points to Liam, both arms outstretched. “Im.”

I don’t know why, but I’m slightly embarrassed. “No, baby.”

Liam goes and proves I shouldn’t be though. He shakes his head and holds his own arms out. “It’s okay. Come ‘ere, half pint.”

Sawyer giggles as she launches herself into his arms.

Then, instead of chatting away as she’s prone to do, she snuggles back into his chest and smiles over at me.

The dog loves London.

London loves the dog.

And Sawyer loves the man.

I prop my elbow up on the back of the bench and rest my cheek against my folded fingers, torn between watching London, and watching Liam—who just sits, comfortably, with my toddler in his arms.

Like he’s supposed to.

Like this is the norm.

The thought has me feeling like…

Well, like it could be.

You hardly know the man.

It would be stupid to think there could be something here.

You’re coming out of an eight-year relationship.

Yeah. About that…

“Was the rest of your night good?” Liam asks.

“Yeah, actually,” I answer, okay with leaving my thoughts behind. “I slept well. And the girls slept in, so that was nice.” Then I smile, “And by slept in, I mean they weren’t up before six-thirty.”

That would scare anyone who didn’t already have kids.

Why are you trying to scare him away?

I mentally shake the thought away.

“Pancakes!” Sawyer offered from her spot on Liam’s lap.

“Yes, they had pancakes for breakfast.”

“G’een juice,” Sawyer adds, a happy nod accompanying it.

“Yes, and green juice,” I say to her but then look to Liam to clarify. “Cold-pressed juice. It’s about the only way I can get vegetables into London.”

“Makes sense. What else did you do this morning, Sawyer?”

She just nods and sighs happily, not offering any more words.

“Did you play with your babies?” I ask, and she nods.

“What about…paint. Did we paint this morning?” Again, she nods, but she’s apparently done talking.

“What’s your favorite color to paint with, Sawyer?” Liam tries and of course, my daughter answers him.

“Ink.”

He doesn’t even miss a beat. “Pink, ‘ey? That’s a good color.” His eyes are locked on me and I feel like there’s more to that statement but can’t figure out…

He drops his eyes and I follow them, only to realize my top is blush pink.

And then my face is blush pink too.

“What are your plans for tonight?” Liam asks then.

“Um.” I have no words. I’m suddenly like Sawyer, but at least she can speak to Liam.

“When do these two usually eat dinner? You guys can come over, we can eat…” He shrugs. “I think I even have a Disney movie hanging around somewhere. It’s a VHS but it still works.”

London must hear the comment about eating because she pipes in, “It’s Sawyer’s month birthday! We can have cake, too!”

“We don’t get cake for month birthdays, goose,” I laugh, shaking my head.

“Oh, yeah? A month birthday? What are we now? Nineteen months, I think?” Liam asks, and I nod.

“Yeah. Nineteen months. Her birthday is in August.” Like yesterday at the restaurant, I turn completely so I’m sitting on the bench perpendicularly, facing Liam and Sawyer.

Liam frowns though and I wonder what I said.

“The tenth?”

I nod, unsure where he’s going with it.

Then he grins and shakes my girl side to side—gently, of course. I don’t know that this man has a rough setting when it comes to my girls.

“That’s my birthday, too, half pint.”

Sawyer’s face brightens, and she looks up at him by rubbing the back of her head down his chest, then holds up two fingers. “Two?”

“Ha, no,” Liam chuckles. “But it’s still my birthday.”

Sawyer is happy with that answer, or so it seems, because she settles right back in.

“What do you say? Come over for dinner?”

“I don’t know…” I look back to London and Guinness.

“Please?” He drops his chin to the top of Sawyer’s head and the sight is too damn cute.

“Fine.” The answer may be made with a frustrated tone—because he talked me into something so easily—but it’s paired with a smile. I can’t help it.

Conversation turns to what Liam and Guinness did that morning, and soon it’s time to go.

“You can come over right away,” Liam offers, as he walks the girls and I back to our car. “I mean, if you wanted to.”

“Sawyer still needs her afternoon nap.”

“Nu-uh!” she says—tiredly, I notice—from her perch against Liam’s side.

Still.

“Please, mama! Can I play with Guinness?” London tugs on my hand.

God, I’m torn.

This is a lot.

And I’m not afraid to tell him that. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” I say, trying to tease. “These girls will be all over your house. Maybe we could plan it for another time. London’s bound to get tired from playing; Sawyer’s sometimes crabby in the evening.” Even I know I’m making excuses.

He seems to let it go, but I’m aware the questions still linger. At my car, he helps buckle Sawyer in as I get London situated, Guinness sitting nicely next to him the entire time, even though he’s looking into the car.

Probably trying to figure out how he can get in and hang out with the girls a little longer.

I close London’s door at about the same time Liam closes Sawyers, and, like yesterday, he meets me at the back of my Escape.

“I know what I’m asking,” he says softly, and, also like yesterday, takes my hands.

I tip my head to the side, studying his face. He still hasn’t replaced his sunglasses, even though he’s facing the sun and it’s undoubtedly bright in his eyes. “You’re something else.”

He winks as he squeezes my hands, then gives me crossroads. “I’m the only white cottage looking place. Or.” He shrugs. “While Guinness and I normally walk—”

My eyes widen. “That’s like, five miles!”

“It’s his daily exercise,” Liam laughs but continues, as if I didn’t interrupt, “but we drove today. You can follow me, if you’d like.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to keep pushing.

It’s what I do.

Push back.

But I don’t actually want to.

“Where did you park?” I ask, looking past him and around the parking lot. “We’ll follow you.”