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Y esterday was all about relaxation and fun. After Easton made that awesome breakfast, we hung out all day. We watched a movie on TV, took a walk around the area, and even spent some time sitting at the table by Stan.

But today is serious—we’re at the children’s hospital.

I’m wearing a simple gray sweater dress and tall boots, and Easton has on jeans and a Bears jersey with his number—14.

After we meet with hospital officials, where I hand over a big-ass check, we get to go see some of the kids.

And wow, the children we visit with, despite all the adversity and challenges in their lives, are truly a joy and an inspiration. They put into perspective what is really important in life.

To keep things light, though, we pass out lots of Bears merchandise, including the signed items Shane donated. Easton also autographs a bunch of jerseys and ball caps in person.

The kids love that. They ask him questions about hockey and what it’s like to play on a professional team. Easton totally gets into it.

Damn, he is so good with kids.

My heart is warmed.

But isn’t it always with him?

That man.

I can’t help but smile.

Before we walk into the next room, he catches me grinning and asks, “What’s up?”

I shake my head. “You’re just amazing, that’s all.”

He laughs, then tells me, “Well, I think you’re pretty awesome, too, Claire.”

Our eyes meet, and we’re about to have another one of those moments that keep popping up more and more.

But then the nurse taking us around breaks the spell when she says, “Before we go into Lydia’s room, I have to warn you, she’s a very prescient child. She sees things in people that most don’t. Or can’t. Good or bad, she’s not afraid to tell you. She’s what we call around here ‘brutally honest.’”

I tease, “Okay, I’m a little nervous now, but I’m sure we’ll be just fine.”

“Oh, you will be,” she assures us. “She’s truly a doll.”

We then go into the room.

Lydia is small and frail, but she greets us happily and with a big smile. “You’re both so pretty,” she says to me and Easton.

That makes him laugh.

Looks like she does just say what’s on her mind. But so far, she’s not too brutal.

We talk with her for a bit, and Easton gives her a signed jersey and a Bears ball cap.

She immediately discards her pink knit tassel hat onto the bed and replaces it with the violet Bears cap. “I love this,” she gushes.

The nurse looks over at us and smiles. “Thank you,” she mouthes.

It’s about time to go, so we begin to say our goodbyes.

But as we turn to leave, Lydia asks, “You’re married, right?”

Easton and I turn back around, and I say, “Yes, we are.”

She frowns. “But you’re keeping a big secret. And I don’t understand why.”

“Lydia,” the nurse says sternly, “remember what we talked about, okay?”

I assure her, “It’s fine.”

The little girl then looks at me and says, “You love him very much, don’t you? But he doesn’t really know that, does he?”

Help.

It’s clear she means “love him very much” in a romantic sense, not just friendship.

I can’t even look at Easton.

And there’s no time to anyway, as Lydia points to him and says, “And you love her just as much. But she doesn’t know that either.”

The nurse jumps in again. “Lydia, of course they love each other. They’re married.”

“Yeah, they are,” this amazing child states matter-of-factly. “But they’re also not.”

“Okay, okay.” The nurse ushers us out and issues an apology.

Damn, if she only knew. Lydia was spot-on with everything she said.

But does that mean Easton loves me in the same way?

Is he in love with me?

This is the question on my mind the whole drive home. I kind of want to discuss what Lydia said, but Easton doesn’t bring her up. He talks about every other child we visited, but not her.

That leads me to believe that though little Lydia was right about our real-but-not-real marriage and my true feelings for Easton, she didn’t read him correctly at all.

And that makes me so sad.