Page 83 of Every Little Kiss
CHAPTER 16
“How about your pillow?” Liv asked as Paxton dragged his backpack down the hallway with one hand, his jacket with the other, his Superman slippers scuffing the floor with each step.
“Grandma didn’t put it on the list,” Paxton said, shrugging into his jacket. “She said I only had to bring what was on the list. And a pillow wasn’t on the list.”
“Then no pillow needed,” Liv assured him, kneeling down and zipping him up tight. “But if you decide you need yours, all you have to do is call and I’ll bring it over. You’re right across the lake. I can be there in a few minutes.”
“I know,” he said. “You showed me her house.”
“That’s right,” Liv said, pulling Paxton’s backpack out of his closet. She’d spent most of yesterday preparing Paxton for the idea of a sleepover at Grandma’s, then all of today wondering if she should just cancel. “Now is there anything else you think you might need?”
“I got my cape and my mask.” He patted his bag. “And I packed an extra one in case Grandma wants to wear one. Do you think Bullseye would want to do the sleepover with me?”
Liv took a deep breath and cupped her son’s cheek. They’d been over this a dozen times. “Bullseye has to sleep at his own house, but Grandma said that her neighbors have a cat named Miss Peepers who likes to sit on her porch at night and be petted.”
“I like Miss Peepers, but I like my own bed more.” Paxton exhaled a shaky breath and toed at the floor.
Last week when Paxton saw Miss Peepers, he had been ready to give up his bed and all of his toys if he could keep her, but Liv didn’t bother to point that out.
In fact, the mother in her wanted to call the whole thing off too, postpone it for another year or three. But the warrior in her, who knew that her son was about to have his first sleepover in a safe and loving environment, said, “Your own bed will be right here when you get back, and when you come home we can snuggle up in it and you can tell me what a good time you had.”
“If the good doesn’t come?” he asked softly. “Do I have to lie?”
“Nope, you are free to have whatever kind of time you want.” And to show her confidence in the situation and in Paxton, she added, “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had an awesome time. I hear Miss Peepers likes to chase toilet-paper rolls, and she will give purrs for treats.”
“But she can’t fly like Superdog can. So if something goes bad, who’s going to come down and save me?” he said, and Liv felt a bead of familiar panic start to grow. He hadn’t told that story of Superdog in more than a year. A story that he’d clung to after the accident.
Sam had given Paxton the stuffed dog as an early Christmas present. And he’d been holding it when they’d skidded off the road. Her son had clung to that dog the entire time they’d been out in that storm, the doctor had told her, so it was natural he’d find comfort in it.
Most parents would just tell him that nothing would happen, but she wasn’t about to promise him something she couldn’t guarantee. Lying would only give him a false sense of security.
“If something feels weird in here”—she pointed to his belly—“all you have to do is tell Grandma what you need to feel better—that way she can hold your worry for you so you can enjoy your big-boy sleepover.”
“What if she makes those smelly fish noodles?” he asked, so serious Liv had to bite back a smile.
“Sometimes grandmas make smelly fish noodles.” When Paxton looked as if that was the worst answer ever, she added, “If it’s that bad, then tell her. And if it takes you a while to find your words, that’s okay too—just show her what you want.”
“How?” he asked, his voice heartbreakingly quiet.
Liv had thought about this too, wanting to give him all the tools he could need to have this be a positive experience. “If you need a snuggle, you don’t ask me—you just snuggle in. Grandmas love to snuggle. And they love to laugh and read books to their grandkids. So if you want her to read you a bedtime comic, then crawl up in her lap, and I bet you a cupcake for breakfast that she’ll start reading.”
“I packed three comic books,” Paxton said proudly.
“See, you’re a natural at this.” And then taking a page from Ford’s handbook, she asked, “What do you need to have an awesome time?”
Paxton thought about that for a minute, then stuck his hands on his hips in a pose that was all Sam. “A dog of my own that I can bring with me to sleepovers. Cuz if I’m big enough to do big-boy sleepovers, then it means I’m big enough to have a pet.”
Liv’s first reaction was to tell him that after he got settled in at school, they’d talk about it. Then she realized that school was just a few short weeks off and he was going to be fine. “You’re right. You are growing up. So why don’t we talk to Ford about what kind of dog we should consider.”
“Yes!” He punched his hands in the air, and Liv wondered if she’d just been played.
“Is there anything else you need?”
“My book,” he said, but instead of racing down the hall to grab a book from his room, he walked into the family room and reached up high on the bookshelf, stretching to get to the third shelf, and pulled a journal down. Cradling it to him, he said, “So I can see you before I go to bed.”
Liv’s chest shrank when she saw the book. It was a journal, really, a memory journal Avery had made for him for his birthday. She’d taken photos and news articles and ticket stubs from Liv and Sam’s first date and created a beautiful scrapbook for Paxton so as he grew older he’d never forget his parents’ story.
Not all of the story, but the best parts. Liv pulled it out every time he asked about Sam, but Paxton usually got bored after a few pages. This was the first time he’d initiated the interest. “Did you want to look at that while we wait for Grandma?”
