Page 62 of Making It Up

His neck is straining with keeping his smile in place. I can’t resist—I squeeze his hand. His fingers wrap around mine immediately. Tightly.

“Your mom was so cool and so sweet,” David goes on. “She always made everyone feel good and…” He hesitates.

I don’t know what he’s about to say, but I squeeze his hand again. He should say it. I don’t know how I know that, but I do.

He takes a little breath, then says, “I miss her a lot.”

Oh…

My heart flips, and I feel tears prick the backs of my eyes.

But I look at Del, and I know that yes, he definitely should have said that. These girls need to know that their mom was loved and that she’s missed.

Del gives him a little smile that’s sad around the edges. “I do too.”

“I know you do, baby,” David says roughly. He leans over and kisses the top of her head. “So I definitely want you to paint my nails with The Kaitlyn. Then I can look down and smile and think of you and her doing this together. That will make me so happy.”

Del’s smile grows.

“The Kaitlyn?” Ray asks. “What’s that?”

“This nail paint,” David says as if it’s obvious. “You know how they sometimes name motocross tricks after certain riders who do it first or do it really well?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but Ray nods. And I make a mental note to look up motocross and motocross tricks later.

“So this is The Kaitlyn after your mom.”

Ray’s smile is wide now, too.

I hear Chelsea sniff, and I have to swallow hard again as I see Jack pull her up against his side in a hug.

“That’s so cool,” Ray says.

“It is. Can I have that too?” Tucker asks.

“Only on one hand,” Delaney says. “We’ve already got that hand almost done.” She looks at Ray. “But you can paint mine too, if you want to.”

“You’re going to get your nails done?” Tucker asks, his tone teasing.

“I don’t do my nails because of the manual work I do with my hands every day,” Delaney informs him. “But the girls can practice on me.”

Tucker acts offended. “I farm. You don’t think that’s manual work with my hands?”

“Sure, it is,” Delaney says, patting his arm. “It’s just not…as manual.”

“What?” Tucker demands with an over-exaggerated gasp.

Delaney nods, but she’s grinning now. “You have tractors and combines and all kinds of tools. You don’t really get your hands in it the way I do my work.”

Tucker draws himself straighter. “I’ll bet your manicure lasts longer than mine does.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Delaney says, nodding.

“But you can’t smudge it or chip it or take it off on purpose,” Tucker warns.

“Tucker Bennett, are you saying you think I might cheat?” Delaney demands.

Tucker leans in. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”