Page 70 of I'm Yours

Once we’re situated, the waitress returns. She’s young, probably still in high school, and has a pretty smile. “Hi, there. I’m Hannah. What can I get you to drink?”

“She’ll have milk,” Reed says, pointing to Emmy whose little tongue is sticking out as she continues to work the maze. “I’ll have a Coke.”

I nod. “Same.”

“Actually, I think we’re ready to order, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure!”

Reed looks at me. “Sorry, Sadie, did you want to look or were you still hungry for a patty melt?”

“Nope, that sounds great. Patty melt, fries, and can I get some fruit, too?”

“Sure thing. And for your girl?”

I blush. “Oh, she’s…”

“She’ll have the chicken fingers and cottage cheese. I’ll take the mushroom Swiss burger and fries,” Reed says with a grin.

“Got it. I’ll get that in and be right back with your drinks. Your daughter’s adorable, by the way,” Hannah says, looking right at me rather than Reed.

“Thanks,” Reed answers and grins at me when he notices the deer in headlights look on my face.

“I’m sorry. I panicked.”

He doesn’t seem the least bit bothered. His calm composure helps me to relax. Rather than worry over something he’s clearly not concerned with, I reach into the cup of crayons and pick out a bright green one, leaning over and doodling a little flower in the corner of Emmy’s paper.

She lifts her eyes to me and grins. “Can you show me?”

“Show you what?”

“How you draw the flower?”

“Of course.”

And for the next fifteen minutes while we wait for our food, Emmy and I draw a field of flowers in every color the crayon cup holds. When Reed reaches over and tries to participate, he earns a little scowl from his daughter that would have me whimpering in the corner. He raises his hands in defeat and sits back and watches the two of us work together on our masterpiece.

When our meals are delivered, Emmy asks for a bite of my sandwich because she’s never tried one before then steals one of my fries. I place a blueberry in her cottage cheese and tell her to try it and she does, nodding her head in agreement that it’s delicious. Reed doesn’t say a word as the two of us sit together in our own world, eating and sharing food. Laughing and talking about dance.

He’s long since finished his meal by the time Emmy and I are done. Relaxed in his seat, arm spread across the back of the booth, he watches me with his daughter. For a moment, I’m afraid that I’ve overstepped, practically pretending to be her mother. But then I notice the soft look on his face. Such a contradiction to the hard edges and lines of his jaw. The darkness of his tattoos.

A friend. Rancher. Son. Father. Widow.

Reed holds many titles; so much weight on those strong shoulders. I wonder if he’d let me help carry some of that weight for him.

I’m staring at him, he’s staring back at me. I know he’s wondering what I’m thinking. Just like I’m wondering what he is. How are we here? After all these years… all this time. We’re exactly where I dreamt we’d be. Of course, I didn’t want this at the cost of Katherine not being here for her daughter. But the dream of so long ago, when I pictured my forever, the vision of a little girl with dark hair and dark eyes that looked so much like her daddy’s was always there. Of a little boy who was full of mischief wearing little boy cowboy boots and a hat as he helped his daddy on the ranch.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” Reed says quietly as Emmy draws me a picture of her dog Bandit. From what I can see, it’s a black dog. Though, if she hadn’t told me it was a dog, I wouldn’t have been positive.

I don’t pretend not to know what he’s talking about when I reply, “Me either.”

“I thought… I don’t know,” he trails off, looking away. He bites his lip and the waitress comes by to clear the table, leaving behind the slip for the bill. There’s no fancy leather folders here. Just a piece of paper and pay at the cashier by the front door. Shoot, only recently did they even accept credit or debit cards. Until then, if you didn’t have cash when you walked through the door, you wouldn’t be eating.

“What?” I ask him.

“I guess I thought our time had come and gone. Or… rather, it never was.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s my fault that he thought that.

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