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Lennon smiles at my mom. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I never thought of it that way.”
“That’s because you’re not a parent yet. But you’ll get it one day, and that one day is happening soon. Hence why you need to start thinking about the shower and everything you’ll need so you’re not scrambling at the last minute.” She winks in Lennon’s direction. “Trust me, keeping a baby alive is stressful enough without scrambling for supplies.”
Lennon bites on her bottom lip. “There’s still a lot I don’t know about taking care of a baby. I guess I should be studying that too on top of my curriculum, huh?”
I sense the stress forming in the tense of her shoulders, so I wrap an arm around her and pull her closer to me, kissing her temple. She glances up at me as my hand reaches out to frame her face. “We’ve got this. And we’ve still got some time.”
Lennon’s gaze drifts between my eyes, down to my lips, then back up before she whispers, “Yeah. I guess we do.”
Owen clears his throat, breaking through our moment. “Looks like you’ll be able to put those Boy Scout skills to the test this weekend then, huh?”
Reluctantly releasing Lennon, I pick up my fork to take another bite of food. “It’s been a while, but I think I’ll be okay. I got a new tent and air mattress for us, and Bruce told me what else to pack.”
“My dad called you?” Lennon asks.
“No, I called him. I didn’t want to be unprepared.”
Lennon’s brow pinches as she studies me. Luckily, Mom cuts through the tension. “Well, if everyone is done eating, Easton can help me clean up. The peach pie should be ready by the time we finish.”
While my mom and I clean up, Owen shows Lennon around the property and points out all of the changes they’ve made since she was here last.
Part of me is jealous my brother gets to spend time with her right now. That jealousy should alarm me more than any of the questions plaguing my mind.
“So, what did you and Lennon talk about earlier?” I say as I hand my mom a plate to dry with a towel as I stand hovering over the kitchen sink full of soapy water. Washing dishes by hand is and always has been the only option in the Buckley household.
She shrugs. “Not much.”
“Ha. Yeah, I don’t buy it. She was clearly in her head when Owen and I came inside to eat.”
Mom feigns innocence. “And you think I did that?”
“I’m almost positive you had something to do with it.”
“Well, I might have told her that I knew the truth about your marriage…”
Groaning, I close my eyes and curse myself before turning my frustration on Mom. “Fuck, Mom. Really?”
“What?”
“I haven’t had a chance to tell her that you knew the truth before we came here.”
She arches a brow at me. “Well, whose fault is that, Easton? And you haven’t had a chance? Really? You’ve been married for nearly two months.”
Your mother’s not wrong, Easton.
“I’ve been busy…”
“Well, let me ask you this: Do Ava and Bruce know?”
I shake my head. “No. They think we fell in love and the baby is mine.”
Mom’s grin spreads. “Well, now I feel special.”
“Mom…”
“Easton…” she echoes, setting the clean plate on the counter before taking the next one from my hands. “Lennon is your firefly, remember?”
“Not this again.”
