Page 61 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
He arches a brow. “Are you sure?”
“Yep.” I set Roe’s drawing down on the kitchen counter. “I’ll pop the popcorn and fix the ice cream sundaes. Roe?” I have to call for her since she’s sprinted down the hall to her room. Whenshe pokes her head out, I say, “Why don’t you get your dad’s help picking out a movie?”
“Yay!” She squeezes her Capri-Sun a little too tight in her excitement and it shoots straight up to the ceiling.
I squish my eyes closed and count from backwards from ten.
“Oops,” she giggles.
“I’ll clean it up.” My eyes shoot back open at the proximity of Spencer’s voice. He’s right in front of me, reaching around me to grab the dishtowel draped over the faucet.
“T-Thanks,” I stutter.
“No problem.” He heads down the hall and reaches up easily to wipe the ceiling. His shirt rides up, revealing his taut, tanned stomach. I’m staring. Downright mesmerized. I can’t seem to rip my gaze away. When he goes to lower his arm, I somehow manage to turn myself around and dig in the pantry for the microwavable popcorn before he can catch me staring.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’s changed. That we’ve both changed. Sure, we’re still young, but our minds and bodies have changed since we were teens learning how to navigate parent and adulthood simultaneously.
I startle when Spencer comes up beside me and tosses the cloth in the sink.
He cocks his head to the side, studying me. Those blue eyes seem to see everything—a trait our daughter inherited. “Are you okay?” he asks me. “You seem … jumpy.”
“It’s just been a long day is all,” I reason. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to get a call that Monroe broke her arm and I’ve been out of sorts since.”
It’s a lie, a blatant one, because the only thing that has me out of sorts at the moment is him.
“I’m really sorry,” he says in a low voice, and I step back before his fingers can graze my arm. “I … it happened so fast. Shewas doing so well, and she wanted me to let go so I did and…” He trails off because we both know what came next.
“Daddy!” Roe interrupts before either of us can say more. “What movie should we watch?”
Spencer sends a sad look my way before joining Roe in front of the TV to look through the DVDs.
I realize then that the popcorn finished a little bit ago and the smell of burnt kernels fills the air. With a silent curse, I yank the bag from the microwave and throw it straight in the garbage. I get another bag of popcorn going and start on the sundaes.
Why am I always out of sorts in Spencer’s presence?
When the popping slows, I pull the popcorn out and dump the contents into the large bowl I reserve for movie nights.
“Spencer?” I ask and he looks up at me from his spot in the floor, going through the assortment of DVDs we have. “Do you want a sundae?”
“Yes. I’ve missed your sundaes.”
Those words feel like a tiny stab to my heart even though I know he doesn’t intend for them to be.
He gets the movie going while I finish up in the kitchen.
“Roe?” I call out. “Can you come grab the popcorn?”
Like a little tornado, she hops off the couch and blond hair streams behind her as she runs over to me and grabs the bowl. I pile the sundaes onto a tray along with drinks and set it on the coffee table.
Spencer grins, reaching for the one he knows is his—vanilla ice cream topped with hot fudge, melty peanut butter, crushed peanuts, and chocolate sprinkles.
“You remembered,” he says softly, almost reverently.
“It hasn’t beenthatlong,” I protest weakly.
But maybe I shouldn’t remember those things about him? I’m not sure. He’s my only ex and he’s never left my life becauseof Roe. But everything I know about him is practically engrained in my DNA.
He looks at me, a tiny smirk curling his sinful mouth. “Longer than you think. I like that you remembered.”
