Page 73 of Beautifully Messy
And right when I’m at the edge, the front doors burst open. The spell shatters.
Our day is over.
James sweeps Anna into his arms as she charges him, tossing her into the air with a carefree laugh before catching her against his chest.
Over his shoulder, he winks at me. And I swear, my heart flips like it’s caught midair too.
Twenty-Two
Theskiersshedtheirgear as James helps me set the table. We move around each other with the ease of muscle memory, fluid and instinctive. When I stumble over the dog, James catches my elbow.
A touch so soft, imperceptible, I have to look to believe it’s there.
I glance up, not bothering to resist. His eyes are warm and soft, so full of yearning. Is this what I look like when I’m looking at him? Because there is no hesitation, no hiding his feelings in that look.
His fingers tighten, sending heat straight through me, reigniting what’s been simmering since his nose touched my palm and traced its way up to my neck. His cologne fills my lungs, and I step closer. He dips his head, his gaze dropping to my mouth. My chin lifts—
“Hmm… can I help set the table?” Mason clears his throat and strides toward us.
I jerk away. “Nope, all good. I stumbled. James saved your mom’s favorite dishes.”
“Is that so?” Mason stands, hands on his hips, eyes cold as a frozen lake.
What did he see?He’s watching us like he caught that moment. And how could he not? James stands rigid, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, meeting Mason’s stare head-on. I take a deep breath and continue setting the table.
Anna tosses a ball, and Bell launches after it. Paws thud across the wide oak planks before she skids into the door, snatches the ball, and trots it back to a cackling Anna.
Laughter from upstairs, chaos downstairs, unspoken truths everywhere.
Just your average family holiday.
“Anna, don’t do that in the house,” Mason snaps. “How many times do I have to tell you? We don’t throw balls in the house.”
She looks up with tears collecting in the corners of her eyes, gaze moving from Mason to me to James. Sticking her thumb in her mouth, she slowly walks over to James and lifts her free hand in the air. My breath dies in my chest as I watch her choose him. James picks her up and disappears into the kitchen, his voice a gentle murmur.
Mason seethes, seeing her choice for what it is.
“Do you have to speak to her that way?” I set the final dish on the table. “She’s one.”
“Should I let her do whatever she wants? She takes after her mother that way.”
He doesn’t wait for my response; he just huffs off toward the liquor cart.
I stand there waiting for surprise or hurt to hit me. But at this point, why would I feel either? The comment should sting. Instead, it barely registers. And I follow the sound of James and Anna now laughing in the kitchen. They sit on the floor, Bell curled beside them. James stacks measuring cups into a tower while Anna babbles happily, tears already forgotten.
“Thank you,” I say.
He looks up, eyes soft. “When I said I was here. I meant it. For both of you.”
The sound of chairs scraping and family conversation reaches our temporary sanctuary. There’s a dinner to serve and a table full of family waiting. Anna knocks over the tower of cups and claps delightedly. The sound makes me smile, but it also reminds me that we can’t hide in this kitchen forever.
“Come on, Bug,” I lift Anna. “Let’s go eat.”
“How was skiing today?” I ask as we all take our seats and begin passing the dishes, clearly unable to handle the awkward tension hanging from the rafters.
“It was good. Beautiful day on the snow,” Ivy replies. “I’m more interested in hearing about your day. Did you guys hang out?”
“I needed a book, so I tagged along to the bookstore,” James says, shrugging in a way that doesn’t quite achieve the nonchalance he’s aiming for.
