Page 107 of Beauty
He tilts his head. “Yeah. He asked her. Actually, I asked her because he wanted to and I wanted to see if he would.”
“Ollie.” I laugh loud enough to scare the fish away. “Seriously?”
“I didn’t think he’d actually do it. So weird. We were atrecess.”
With her lip caught between her teeth like she’s fighting a smile, Sienna eyes me. Then she ruffles his hair. “Have you kissed the girl you like?”
My breath falters. He likes a girl? This is news to me.
He shakes his head. “Nah. But we’re going to hug when I get back.”
Sienna gives up the fight and breaks into a grin. “You already planned it?”
“I can’t just hug her without asking first, right? So I asked her if I could hug her at recess when we get back.”
Sienna’s surprised giggle is like a shot of pure joy injected straight into my veins. God, what I would do to hug this girl right now. I don’t even need my lips pressed to hers. Just the ability to touch her would be enough. For now.
Her fishing pole jolts, and her giggle turns into a surprised squeal as she backs up.
Just as she lets go, clearly panicked, I snag it, keeping it from clattering to the pier or ending up in the water.
She turns to me, her eyes wide. “What do I do? What do I do?”
I set my pole to the side and step behind her again. “We reel it in.”
When the tiny sunfish breaches the water, making her pole bounce lightly, she and Ollie are both ecstatic.
Though as it gets close enough to really look at, she gasps, as if only now realizing the fish was truly snagged by the hook. “Oh no, is the hook hurting it?”
I take the pole from her and kneel to unhook the fish. It flops in my hand as I hold it out to her, but rather than take it, she pulls a face, like I’ve lost my damn mind.
“It needs water,” she urges. “Toss it back.”
“Don’t you want a picture with it? To prove that you caught a fish?”
With her hands held out in front of her, she steps back. “I am so not touching that thing.”
“Fine, a selfie.” I dig my phone out of my pocket, then loop my arm over her shoulder. “Come on, Ollie. Hop in the pic.”
He bounces over, popping into the frame in front of Sienna. His face is inches from the fish I’m holding, while Sienna’s eyes are wide and I’m full-on grinning.
Greatest picture ever.
As I toss the fish back and pick up my pole, Ollie says, “Hey, you got a blue butterfly on your wrist.”
I whip around immediately, my gaze focused on where she stands with my son, wrist up, tracing the spot I’ve noticed her touch several times these last few weeks. “Turquoise, actually.”
Ollie grins at her. “My dad has one just like it.”
Sienna’s spine goes straight and her emerald eyes lock on me, swirling with questions. “Really?”
My little boy, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air, continues, “Yup. He said that he found the most beautiful butterfly a couple of weeks before I was born. But he couldn’t keep her.” Head tilted, he frowns in concentration. “Wait, what else did you say, Dad?”
I step forward, my heart in my throat. “I said I wanted to remember her magic. I wanted to remember how I felt when I saw her, that I hoped the reminder of her on my skin would make me feel a little less lonely.”
“Why do you have a butterfly?” he asks Sienna, the question one of pure innocence.
“The same reason.” Her admission is barely a whisper.
