Page 67 of Second Dance
“Okay, good. I mean, just ‘cause I wanted girls night and you’re not a girl,” Bella said.
He laughed. “I get it. Pretend I wasn’t here.”
Grace appeared with three bowls of popcorn. “Bella, let’s go get settled in the living room. I’ll paint your nails before the movie starts.”
“How will I eat popcorn if I have wet nails?” Bella asked, already following Grace.
“Ooh, good point,” Grace said. “Maybe popcorn first.”
Bella turned back toward us. “Night, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too,” Alex said.
After the girls were gone, he pulled me into an embrace, kissing me again. “I could do this all night, but I’ll make myself scarce.” He brushed his knuckles against my cheek. “Thank you for having her over.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“You’re one of a kind, you know that?” He kissed me again before heading out the kitchen door, so as not to disturb the girls. I stood at the kitchen window watching him get into his car and then pull out of my driveway, his taillights rubies in the dark night. For whatever reason, an inky pool of dread settled in my stomach. Please keep him safe, I prayed silently. I can’t lose him again.
I sat between the girls on the couch, each of us with our bowls of popcorn on our laps. Clementine and Socks were curled up together in the cat bed near the hearth, although it was not lit tonight. Sadly, they were no lap kitties. Obstinate creatures knew how much I wished they were, so did the opposite.
Grace had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her bare feet tucked underneath her. Bella had snuggled in on the other side, the blanket Alex had brought pulled up to her chin, the stuffed tuxedo cat clutched tight against her chest.
“Does anyone have a preference on what we watch?” Grace asked, eyes flicking between us.
Bella shrugged, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “I don’t care. As long as there are no car chases or guys in superhero costumes. That’s what my brother and Dad like. I never get to have a girl movie.”
Grace grinned, tossing off the blanket to yank open our DVD drawer where I had them alphabetized. Esme teased me about having so many DVDs when I could just stream most movies these days, but I liked to collect certain movies. Ones Grace and I watched over and over.
“Might I proposeThe Proposal?” Grace asked, chuckling at her own joke. “Classic romcom. Romantic. Hilarious.”
“We’ve seen that one about twenty times,” I said to Bella. “But we never get sick of it.”
“And I’ll see it twenty more.” Grace bounced on her toes as she opened the DVD case. “Sandra Bullock plus Ryan Reynolds are like the best thing ever. And of course, there’s Betty White. Who I’m obsessed with.”
“What’s it about?” Bella asked. “I’ve never seen it.”
“You’ve not seenThe Proposal? Oh my gawd, we have to remedy this immediately,” Grace said. “It’s one of those fake fiancé tropes, which I adore. In this one, the Canadian boss lady needs to stay in the U.S. so she makes her assistant pretend they’re in love and getting married. But then they actually fall in love, and it’s so romantic.”
Bella hugged her blanket tighter, smiling. “Sounds kind of ridiculous.”
“Exactly. That’s the best part.” Grace hit play and plopped back onto the couch.
As the movie unfolded, Grace whispered lines before the actors delivered them until I nudged her with my elbow. She apologized under her breath, never taking her eyes off thescreen. Bella just watched at first, but, by the time the stars had landed in Alaska to visit the hero’s family, she was giggling as much as Grace. She howled with laughter when Sandra Bullock and Betty White danced around the fire in the woods.
“This is really funny,” Bella said.
Was it my imagination or had she scooted closer to me. My question was answered a few minutes later, when she rested her head against my shoulder. Without thinking, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and drew her close. Grace mimicked the movement on the other side of me. I smiled to myself, loving every moment of their heavy, warm bodies next to mine. By the time the credits rolled, the popcorn was gone and our cheeks hurt from laughing.
Grace’s eyelids drooped, though she managed a dreamy sigh. “I hope someday someone looks at me the way Ryan Reynolds looks at Sandy B.”
“Someone will.” I brushed her hair back from her forehead and kissed the top of her head. “Probably more than that, and you’ll have to choose the right one.”
“How do you know if he’s the right one?” Bella asked.
“You feel it in your tummy,” I said. “Like you’ve just eaten a warm bread pudding and you know with utter certainty that nothing else will ever taste as good.”
“What if you feel like that but he doesn’t?” Bella asked.
