“You’re the best, thank you. But you can have the tip.”
“Don’t be silly.” Starr’s brow furrowed. “You’re a little flushed. Are you sure you aren’t just hot and bothered over wanting some hanky-panky with our Tanky? We both know those Wicked boys are the hottest guys in here.”
“Positive.” She knew the difference between lust and discomfort and didn’t have time for hot guys anyway. Even if she did, there was the little issue of not being able to breathe around the only man that intrigued her enough to make her almost wish she could make time to figure him out.
She avoided Tank for the rest of her shift, clocked out at eight, and took her first full breath in two hours as she hurried to her car. She cranked the music and closed her eyes for a second, soaking in the little me time she allowed herself before heading home. With two little ones underfoot, she rarely got time alone.
As she headed home, she thought about River and the girls. For as long as Leah could remember, she’d seen two little girls and a boy in her future. She’d thought she’d eventually meet a man as wonderful as her father and bear three children, but after her father died, she’d realized River was that boy. They’d both been devastated after losing their father, and River had started hanging out with a rough crowd. When he’d come to her at fourteen and told her he’d gotten a girl pregnant—and then done it again when he was sixteen—Leah had realized she’d been wrong about the type of family she’d be blessed with. She had stepped in and adopted River’s daughter Junie, and a year and a half later, she’d done the same for his second daughter, Rosie, and had never regretted it.
She pulled into the driveway of the adorable cottage she’d rented at the beginning of the summer when they’d come to the Cape and sat for a moment bobbing her head to the beat of the music. The cedar-sided cottage had two small bedrooms, one full bath, and an open living area with a bar separating it from the kitchen and the entrance to the unfinished basement. Between the two bedrooms, a recessed staircase led to the finished attic, which River used as a bedroom. The cottage wasn’t in the best shape, with a few missing shingles and almost no yard to speak of, but it was home, and they were happy there.
She headed inside and heard River playing the guitar for the girls in their bedroom. He’d taught himself to play, and she and the girls loved it. What a difference a few years made. Raising River had been an uphill battle, but he was all heart, just like their father had been, and he loved the girls with everything he had. He took care of them while Leah worked and never acted like they were a hassle. He’d even started taking online community college classes and was determined to become the first Yates to get a degree.
For the millionth time, Leah thought about how proud her father would be of them—all four of them. She missed him every day, but she and River did their best to keep his memory alive for the girls. They told them stories about Grandpa Leo and kept his picture by their bedside.
Leah set down her things, toed off her shoes, and went to say good night to the girls. River sat on the floor between their beds, strumming his secondhand guitar, his thick curls hanging just past his shoulders. He had tighter curls than Leah, but his were softer, finer, and golden-copper, like his mother’s. He lifted his face, their father’s smile appearing, sparse whiskers darkening his chin. River was a good-looking guy who oozed Southern charm. It wouldn’t be long before he had hordes of women chasing after him. At least now he took birth control seriously.
Rosie sat beside him on the floor in her pajamas, her golden-brown curls billowing around her little face. She was holding her favorite lovey, Boo, a doll with a frilly skirt and tie that Leah had made for her from River’s old shirts. Junie lay horizontally across the bed behind River, her cheek resting on his shoulder, red ringlets framing her face. In one hand she clutched the ears of her favorite lovey, a stuffed bunny named Mine. Her other arm was around River, and she was holding the silver chain he wore around his neck. It had belonged to Leo, and River never took it off.
“Mama!” Rosie popped to her feet with an ever-present impish grin and barreled into Leah’s legs.
“Hey, Rosie Posey.” Leah lifted her into her arms, kissing her cheek.
“Hi, Mama.” Junie tangled her tiny fingers in River’s hair, making no effort to get up.
Leah leaned down and kissed Junie’s head. “Hi, Juju.”
While Rosie was a bundle of energy day and night and the first to try to soothe anyone who was sad, Junie was a thinker and more likely to try to figure out a solution to others’ issues than to placate them. She could lie in the grass playing with a grasshopper in the morning, and hours later, when Leah had forgotten all about the bug, Junie would still be thinking about it and would have come up with a hundred questions, worries, and stories about it by bedtime.
Leah sat on the bed beside her. “Did you guys have a good day?”
“Gweat day!” Rosie exclaimed, just as she did every day. She wriggled out of Leah’s arms and sat next to River again.
“Wiver took us to the cweek, and he ate fwogs,” Junie said with a wide grin. “He ate them, Mama, and he didn’t get a bellyache.”
Leah laughed. “Maybe River’s stomach is made of steel.”
“He’s gwoing a fwog family in his belly. Wight, Wiver?” Junie tapped his shoulder.
“That’s right, jelly belly.” River kissed Rosie’s cheek. “Hop into bed, doodlebug.”
Rosie giggled and climbed into bed as River turned to kiss Junie.
Junie threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. “Night, Wiver.”
“Night, Juju. Get some sleep, ya hear?” River stretched his tall, lanky body and picked up his guitar. His black hoodie hung open over a gray T-shirt. “I gotta go. Daryl’s picking me up to shoot hoops.”
“Daryl?” Leah was glad he was getting back into sports, but she still liked to keep an eye on the type of people he was hanging out with.
“Yeah. He’s the guy I told you I met a few days ago when we were at the park.”
“Oh, right. Be careful,” she said as she tucked in the girls. A pang of longing moved through her. She’d had it a few times recently when River had gone out. He was growing up, and she had to, as her father would say, give him the sky so he can find his wings. “How late will you be?”
“Not too late. Probably ten or so.” He cocked a grin, looking between the girls. “Farewell, my beautiful ladies.” He bowed dramatically, waving his hands as he backed out of the room.
The girls giggled.
Leah finished putting the girls to bed, picked up toys and books lying around the cottage, and washed the dishes that were left in the sink. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and opened the fridge, in which she found one of Rosie’s dolls holding a half-eaten cookie in its lap. She laughed to herself and reached for the milk. It was empty. She sighed and tossed it in the trash. Darn it, River. He was supposed to let her know if they ran out of staples so she could get them on her way home from work.
She carried the bowl of dry cereal to the couch, moving River’s guitar from the cushions to the floor. Was it so hard to put a guitar away? It was an ongoing thing between them. He’d leave the guitar on the couch, and when she’d tell him to put it away, he’d give her one of his charming smiles and say something like The girls like it there or I wouldn’t want you to forget me while I’m out. She sat on the couch and texted him. Any chance your friend can take you to get milk on the way home? She picked up the women’s fiction novel she’d checked out of the library, and as she lay back to read, River’s response rolled in. No prob. Sorry I forgot to tell you we’re out of it.