Page 96 of Parrish

“She’s an awful cook,” I blurt.

“Horrible,” he agrees, quirking his lips. Our fingers lace together, and he gives my hands a squeeze.

“I remember it,” I whisper. “Oh God, I remember it clearly. I told you about my grandparents.”

“Yeah, you did, Sunshine,” he says hoarsely. Unlocking our joined hands, he lifts his thumb to my cheek and gently swipes away the lone tear trailing down my skin.

Overwhelmed by emotion, I fight the urge to wrap my arms around his neck. It’s a simple gesture that would undoubtedly provide comfort to the both of us. However, something tells me one touch is never enough with Jack. Before I can think better of it, my eyes drift towards his mouth and I find myself wondering how he tastes---how his lips feel against mine.

“You need somethin’, Sunshine?” he asks huskily.

Snapping out of my trance, I lift my eyes to his and note the flicker of desire pooling from the depths of his dark irises.

It affirms everything I’ve thought.

He’s a drug that the woman who’s lost in my memory can’t quit.

“You can sing too,” Danny boasts, reminding us both he’s watching the entire exchange between us. “So the second one is the lie!”

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I peel my eyes away from Jack and stare at my son. He must be right because I most definitely cannot recite the Hail Mary backwards. I don’t even know where to begin.

“You sing to Daddy sometimes,” he reveals.

“I do?” I question, turning back to Jack. Biting the inside of his cheek, he nods as he reaches behind him to cup the back of his neck. The heat is still there in his eyes, but it’s laced with something else.

Adoration.

“When I’m not well, you sing to me,” he explains.

I rack my brain trying to recall a time when I’ve done as he says but I fall short. A familiar tune enters my head and I start to hum as it comes to me. My gaze drifts between Jack and Danny, noting the different expressions that flit across their faces.

Hope springs from Danny’s eyes as I continue to hum. Jack, however, looks at me in a way I’ve wished for. Like every woman has wished for a man to look at her.

Like she’s the moon.

The stars.

Like she’s sunshine.

It comes to me then. The song I’m humming is the classic, “You Are My Sunshine.”

“That’s it,” Jack murmurs. “That’s our song.”

“Does this mean you’re starting to remember us?” Danny asks hopefully. The question breaks my heart because I’m not supposed to forget him.

I’m not supposed to forget his father.

Lifting a hand to his cheek, I smile at him.

“I think so,” I say softly.

“Let’s keep playing the game,” he says, eyes wide with excitement. “It’s my turn,” he continues, holding up one of his little fingers. “Number one, you make me do chores,” he says, sticking his tongue out playfully. “Two, you read to me every night before I go to sleep and three, you leave me notes in my lunchbox.”

I don’t remember doing any of those things, yet I refuse to let on that I don’t. Instead, I wink at him and send a silent prayer up to God that I don’t disappoint him.

“You’re too young for chores.”

“That’s what you tell Daddy!”

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