The little boy looked up at me with familiar green eyes and his gap-toothed grin widened. “I get to see Zeb a lot now. It’s neat. He always plays with me and I get to ride in his truck.”
I sighed a little, propped my elbow on the table, and put my chin in my hand. “He does have a very cool truck.”
Hyde laughed and the sound wrapped around me more tightly than the past ever could. That sound alone was more validation that I was where I was supposed to be and doing what I was supposed to be doing than a kind word from my father ever could have been. I didn’t ever think much about kids of my own but this kid, this kid with his shaggy dark hair and forest-colored eyes, I couldn’t imagine a future without his happiness and joy being a part of it. He was going to have a shot. He was going to have love. He was going to be accepted and forgiven throughout his lifetime, and that was everything. I would never have been able to be a part of that if I hadn’t acted out of character, hadn’t embraced my desperation for something more than I had, and come to Colorado.
“Does he take you for a ride in his truck, too?” Hyde’s eyes widened in fascination as I pushed forward a structure that could pass for a blocky castle.
“No, but I’ve seen it, so I know how awesome it is. You’re lucky you get to ride in it. I’m jealous.” I made a funny face at him that had him laughing and holding his sides as he wiggled in his chair.
“If you ask him for a ride I’m sure he’ll give you one. Zeb’s really nice. He’s a giant.”
If I asked Zeb for a ride it wouldn’t be happening in his truck, or maybe it would, but either way it wasn’t the kind of ride Hyde was talking about.
“He is kind of a giant, but that’s a good thing. No one messes with a giant.”
The little boy nodded and pushed my haphazardly constructed castle back toward me. “And you’re a princess.”
I couldn’t stop a snort from escaping. “Sorry, buddy, not even close.”
His eyes widened in his face and he flashed that adorable grin at me again. He was going to be a heartbreaker and Zeb was going to have his hands full when the little guy got older.
“You’re pretty like a princess. You have fancy shoes like a princess. You’re nice like a princess. You grant wishes like a princess.”
I lifted an eyebrow at him. “Princesses grant wishes?” I think he was getting his Disney references confused, but he was five, so I wasn’t in a rush to correct him.
He nodded so vigorously I thought he was going to topple out of his chair. “I wished for someone to come take care of me when my mom went away and you showed up with Zeb.” He looked down at the collection of Legos and then back up at me. I was blinking to combat the tears I felt burning at the back of my eyes. “You granted my wish.”
I gulped, hard, and reached out across the table so I could touch his cheek. His skin was so soft, so delicate. I admired this little boy who’d suffered so much and still had a heart of gold. Again I thought how brave it was for people who’d been hurt, who had been kicked around by life and the people in it, to allow themselves to feel all those things and to still have hope.
“I’m glad I got to grant your wish for you, Hyde. You deserve to have lots and lots of people in your life taking care of you.”
The somber moment was broken by another one of the foster kids running in buck naked and screaming at the top of his lungs. I knew it was a simple cry for attention, something all kids needed, so I invited the rest of the kids in the house to play Legos with us, and by the time I left, an entire city was taking shape on the kitchen table.
Hyde was happy. He was well adjusted, and he obviously loved Zeb. I told myself I could leave it all alone, there were no more questions to be asked, and that my part in their budding relationship was done.
It wasn’t that easy. It never was.
The entire way home I fought back tears because while my job was everything, while I now had a family I could lean on and things outside my office that required me to be present and available, it suddenly didn’t seem like it would be enough. Kids were never something I thought would be for me. When my father was alive I knew having one wasn’t an option. I could never subject a defenseless child to what I had endured, and frankly none of the men I dated ever inspired the urge for home and hearth in me. Not even the one I was supposed to marry. Now my father was gone, my life was my own, and there was a man . . . a man who was all man and so much more . . . who inspired everything inside of me.
It made me want. It made me feel. It made me nervous and it made me very, very afraid.
I was exhausted when I finally pushed open the front door of my house, so it took me a minute to realize something was off. I tossed my laptop case on the couch and scraped my fingernails over my scalp as I pulled my hair loose from where it was tied up. I was too tired even to change my shoes, so I stepped out of my heels and stripped off my blazer, carelessly tossing it on top of where my computer case had landed. A pair of stretchy pants and a giant glass of wine were calling my name even if nothing had really worked to relax me since walking away and leaving Zeb staring after me in the parking lot a couple days ago. The stunned look on his face and the way it bled into anger haunted me, but I kept telling myself it was for the best. He deserved more than a woman with an irreparable heart.
I was halfway up the stairs and had one arm out of my mint-green blouse when my nose twitched and I realized a delicious aroma was coming from my kitchen. Considering neither Poppy nor I could cook much beyond scrambled eggs and bacon, it brought me to a stumbling halt.