Page 43 of Home in the Country
His excitement is palpable, and I’m so thankful for this moment that soothes the ache in my chest and also makes the science nerd in me want to do a happy dance.
My phone buzzes on the counter, and my mood sours instantly knowing the message won’t be from Otto. He hasn’t talked to me in more than a week, and while I could have reached out to him…I shake my head.
I’m pretty suresorry I freaked out about everything and placed it all unfairly on youwon’t magically fix things between us.
Watching Briggs add additional ice cubes to the cups, I flip my phone over and the screen lights up.
CHEYENNE: Want to explain to me why I’m making three custom gowns for some lady in New Mexico?
CHEYENNE: Did I mention she sent me design ideas and told me—and I quote— there’s no budget.
CHEYENNE: Fallon!
I snicker as I imagine Cheyenne flushed with agitation but still sweet as ever, typing out progressively annoyed messages.
FALLON: I’m so glad Bianca got hold of you.
CHEYENNE: She’s THAT Bianca?
FALLON: How many women named Bianca do you think I know? (eye roll emoji)
FALLON: Yes and she’s super nice. She and her husband are actually Briggs’s godparents
CHEYENNE: She mentioned flying out here soon
FALLON: You’ll like her. She’s like a blonde version of Isla.
CHEYENNE: That sounds terrifying
I giggle as Briggs looks up and cocks his head to the side.
“You look pretty,” he says, and I smile.
“Thanks, buddy, I appreciate that.” Seemingly unfazed with the fact that he just melted my heart faster than the ice cubes, Briggs returns his focus to the table.
“What do you think about heading over to the bakery and grabbin’ something before heading to the park?”
“Like those cookies with the chocolate on them?”
I laugh. “Yeah, you can get one of those.”
He pumps his fist and then jumps down from the table and is halfway down the hall before I call him back.
“Hey! Clean up first.”
“Oh yeah,” he says like he didn’t just spill water all over the table and onto the floor.
We tidy up quickly and head out to the car and start toward The Poppy Seed. Briggs is wiggling in his seat as he sings along to a tune only he can hear as we pull up to the shop and park.
The bell jingles overhead as we step inside, Briggs’s hand holding mine. I hope he never stops. Between telling me I look pretty and holding my hand, the kid can probably get whatever he wants right now.
“Hey y’all!” Rhea greets with a smile. She leans over the counter until she’s eye level with Briggs. “Are you being good for your mom?”
He looks to me for confirmation, and I nod and squeeze his hand. He beams at me and then turns his megawatt smile on Rhea.
“Yes, Miss Rhea.”
She lays her hand over her heart in a dramatic fashion and gasps. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing.”
