head and as he turned to leave, she was already back to working her mouse. She seemed lighter, relieved. That was good; she had enough crap on her plate.
Victoria’s Secret models? Man, you’re really an idiot.
Chapter Seven
M akenna woke up on her back, which was strange because she was a stomach sleeper and usually opened her eyes with her face smushed into her pillow. It was Wednesday, her still half-asleep mind told her, but then her eyes flew open as soon as she noticed the feel of Paige’s little hand in hers. Her daughter was lying right next to her, awake and also looking at the ceiling.
“Are you okay, Peach?” Kenna said, softly squeezing her daughter’s hand.
“Fine. Morning, Mama.”
“Morning. Did you have a nightmare?” Kenna turned, head still on the pillow, to look at her.
“Nope.”
“That’s good. You going to tell me why you’re in my bed and we’re holding hands?”
“The otters.” Paige’s sweet face turned and they were now both looking at each other, still holding hands.
“Of course, the otters.” Kenna gave her a silly confused face.
Paige giggled.
“Otters hold hands so they don’t lose each other when they sleep. I didn’t want to lose you, Mama. You would be sad if I dr—drif—”
“Drifted?”
“Yes, if I drifted way away, that would be bad. We have to hold hands at night so that never happens.”
Kenna smiled and pulled her daughter close so they were spoons. Big spoon and little spoon. She kissed Paige’s soft dark blonde hair, which smelled like her strawberry shampoo. Kenna tried not to cry. The love overwhelmed her sometimes and there were other days, usually when she cocked her brow in confusion, that Paige looked so much like Adam. It had been years; he had died when she was only five weeks old, but there were moments it still squeezed at Kenna’s chest.
“We’re not in water, so we are lucky that way. Not a lot of drifting on land.” Kenna pulled her in closer.
Paige squirmed to face Kenna again and held her little finger to her mouth, as if she were figuring out a math problem. “Right, you’re right. Those otters have it harder, don’t you think?”
“Tough work being an otter.” Kenna tickled her until she ran from the bedroom. She poked her head back.
“Rise and shine, silly boots. We need waffles and my hair is a nest of rats again.”
Kenna laughed. “A rat’s nest.”
“Right.” Paige spun on her slippers and headed to the kitchen. “We have a family meanie today.”
“Meeting,” Kenna said, getting out of bed. “It’s a family meeting, not a meanie.” She let out a breath, pushed her hair off her face, and quickly went into the bathroom so she could get to the kitchen before her daughter started making breakfast for herself, because she certainly would.
After rinsing and drying her face, Kenna noticed the unopened package of peanut butter crackers sitting on the basket next to her tub. She’d made Paige give them up last night in a trade-off that allowed her to have bubbles in Kenna’s bigger tub—the “hacoozie” as Paige called it. After tub and bedtime book and e-mails, Kenna had forgotten to bring them back into the kitchen. She put some moisturizer on and picked up the crackers. The wrapper crinkled in her hand, and the memory hit her with such surprise that she leaned back against the bathroom counter for balance.
It was the morning she woke up in the hospital, the morning after Paige was born. Their baby girl had arrived at 3:30 in the middle of the night, so after the initial wonder and kisses, Kenna had collapsed in exhaustion. Early the next morning, she opened her eyes to Adam, all almost six feet of him, curled up on a couch that looked more like a chair. She was reaching for the peanut butter crackers on the side table and at the sound of the crinkle, Adam jumped to his feet.
“I’ll get it,” flew out of his mouth, his blond hair every which way. His shirt was wrinkled and his light blue
Victoria’s Secret models? Man, you’re really an idiot.
Chapter Seven
M akenna woke up on her back, which was strange because she was a stomach sleeper and usually opened her eyes with her face smushed into her pillow. It was Wednesday, her still half-asleep mind told her, but then her eyes flew open as soon as she noticed the feel of Paige’s little hand in hers. Her daughter was lying right next to her, awake and also looking at the ceiling.
“Are you okay, Peach?” Kenna said, softly squeezing her daughter’s hand.
“Fine. Morning, Mama.”
“Morning. Did you have a nightmare?” Kenna turned, head still on the pillow, to look at her.
“Nope.”
“That’s good. You going to tell me why you’re in my bed and we’re holding hands?”
“The otters.” Paige’s sweet face turned and they were now both looking at each other, still holding hands.
“Of course, the otters.” Kenna gave her a silly confused face.
Paige giggled.
“Otters hold hands so they don’t lose each other when they sleep. I didn’t want to lose you, Mama. You would be sad if I dr—drif—”
“Drifted?”
“Yes, if I drifted way away, that would be bad. We have to hold hands at night so that never happens.”
Kenna smiled and pulled her daughter close so they were spoons. Big spoon and little spoon. She kissed Paige’s soft dark blonde hair, which smelled like her strawberry shampoo. Kenna tried not to cry. The love overwhelmed her sometimes and there were other days, usually when she cocked her brow in confusion, that Paige looked so much like Adam. It had been years; he had died when she was only five weeks old, but there were moments it still squeezed at Kenna’s chest.
“We’re not in water, so we are lucky that way. Not a lot of drifting on land.” Kenna pulled her in closer.
Paige squirmed to face Kenna again and held her little finger to her mouth, as if she were figuring out a math problem. “Right, you’re right. Those otters have it harder, don’t you think?”
“Tough work being an otter.” Kenna tickled her until she ran from the bedroom. She poked her head back.
“Rise and shine, silly boots. We need waffles and my hair is a nest of rats again.”
Kenna laughed. “A rat’s nest.”
“Right.” Paige spun on her slippers and headed to the kitchen. “We have a family meanie today.”
“Meeting,” Kenna said, getting out of bed. “It’s a family meeting, not a meanie.” She let out a breath, pushed her hair off her face, and quickly went into the bathroom so she could get to the kitchen before her daughter started making breakfast for herself, because she certainly would.
After rinsing and drying her face, Kenna noticed the unopened package of peanut butter crackers sitting on the basket next to her tub. She’d made Paige give them up last night in a trade-off that allowed her to have bubbles in Kenna’s bigger tub—the “hacoozie” as Paige called it. After tub and bedtime book and e-mails, Kenna had forgotten to bring them back into the kitchen. She put some moisturizer on and picked up the crackers. The wrapper crinkled in her hand, and the memory hit her with such surprise that she leaned back against the bathroom counter for balance.
It was the morning she woke up in the hospital, the morning after Paige was born. Their baby girl had arrived at 3:30 in the middle of the night, so after the initial wonder and kisses, Kenna had collapsed in exhaustion. Early the next morning, she opened her eyes to Adam, all almost six feet of him, curled up on a couch that looked more like a chair. She was reaching for the peanut butter crackers on the side table and at the sound of the crinkle, Adam jumped to his feet.
“I’ll get it,” flew out of his mouth, his blond hair every which way. His shirt was wrinkled and his light blue
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