Page 34 of When We Were More (Aron Falls #1)

T illie

I glance around the kitchen, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything in order.

The potato wedges are seasoned and in the oven, and the broccoli is in a covered dish to keep it warm.

Homemade chicken nuggets—a request from Layla—are in the air fryer and almost done.

The dipping sauces are on the table, all set up.

When the doorbell rings, it’s perfect timing.

I’m not sure if Layla realizes people will give her the world if she asks.

Before Henry and the girls left the festival on Christmas Eve, Layla insisted that we needed to “have dinner and presents,” then proceeded to ask if we could do it at my house.

Since she was so invested in it happening, I let her pick the menu.

Chicken nuggets it is—but not fast food, which is what she probably expects.

When I get to the door and pull it open, the first thing I see is Layla, bundled up in her winter gear, holding a gorgeous bouquet of yellow roses in one hand and a metallic baton with streamers on each end in the other. Behind her, I see Henry is working on getting Lena out of the car.

“I got you flowers. My grandma says you should always bring something when you’re invited to someone’s house.

But I picked these especially for you. I wanted red, but Daddy said you’d like yellow.

Is that true?” She sucks in a breath, which is good given that she didn’t seem to take one at all while talking.

She holds the bouquet out to me, grinning.

I take it from her and kneel to her level.

“It’s true. I love yellow, and these are beautiful flowers.

Thank you very much!” I smell them and make a show of how much I like them, then set the flowers on the foyer table.

“Here, I’ll help you with your coat.” We’ve got her mittens, hat, and coat off, and I’m working on her boots when Henry steps through the door carrying Lena.

She looks adorable—like a huge pink marshmallow—in her snowsuit.

“Hey,” Henry says as he steps through the door. “Thanks for helping.” He gestures to Layla.

“Of course, Henry.”

“Layla was just telling me how her grandmother taught her you should bring something when you come to someone’s house.” I turn to Layla. “Is this the same grandmother who told you not to ask a lady’s age?”

“Yep. She says it’s important she teaches me manners ‘cause she’s the only girl.

Well, my Aunt Charlie, too, but she’s moved away.

” She frowns, and I glance up at Henry, who is also frowning.

“Grandma says the men are nan…” She pauses and is adorable as she gazes upward and mouths out what word she’s trying to say.

“Nanderals. They’re nanderals, so she’s gotta teach me how to be polite. ”

“I think Grandma meant Neanderthals, ladybug.” Henry chuckles.

“Wow, it sounds like you are very lucky to have a good grandmother. When she gets older, you’ve got Lena. That’s another girl.”

“Now I got you, too, Tillie.” Layla’s grin is huge, and I think I’m in love with this little charmer. Like she suddenly remembers she got it, Layla holds up her shiny baton. “My grandma got me this, and I’m gonna march in parades one day. Will you come see me?”

“Yep. If you’re in a parade, I will definitely come to see you. For now, though, I have some coloring books on the table in the living room for you if you want to color while I help your dad get Lena out of her snowsuit.”

“Yes!” Layla bolts away from us toward the living room.

“No baton in the house though, ladybug,” Henry calls after her.

“Thanks for the flowers. It was sweet you let her get them. They’re lovely.

How about I hold Lena while you get undressed?

” Henry’s eyes fly up to mine, and he gives me a heated look and that panty melting grin.

“I mean your coat and shoes, obviously.” Still, I like his playfulness.

It makes me lighter, less worried about tonight going well.

“I have to get a few more things out of the car. Do you mind keeping an eye on her?”

“Of course not,” I answer. But I’m not looking at him, I’m looking at the giggling bundle of happiness I’m holding.

I walk with her over to the landing of the stairs, out of the path of the cold air when the door opens. Then, I place her on the carpet and take her out of her snowsuit. I’ll admit, it is a little tricky, but I eventually extricate her.

“There she is! What a pretty girl, you are!” My voice is a bit higher pitched than normal, and my exaggerated tone and expression must please her because that infectious little laugh of hers fills the air. We play for a little longer, me acting ridiculous and her rewarding me with a fit of giggles.

When I reach my arms out to pick her up, she comes right to me, and it fills my heart with warmth.

After she’s safely in my arms, I turn so we can join Layla in the living room, but Henry is standing there, about four feet away, holding a bottle of the wine I love and staring at me.

I can’t read the expression on his face.

Suddenly, my heart rate kicks up a bit, and I wonder if I’ve done something wrong.

“Is everything okay?”

Henry nods, then shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Yeah. Yeah, definitely. I’m sorry. I kinda zoned out watching you two.”

“All right, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep some boundary I wasn’t aware of. I haven’t been around a lot of kids, so…”

“No, Matilda. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I… Actually, we should talk about it later. Without the little ears everywhere.”

“Yeah, of course. Let’s go check on Layla, and then the food should be ready.”

I don’t give up Lena, and she doesn’t seem eager to leave my arms, so I’m keeping her for now.

I take a few steps toward the living room, and when I walk past him, Henry puts his hand on the small of my back.

Before I realize what he’s doing, he’s gently tugging on my apron tie, stopping my departure.

He leans down close to my ear, his lips almost, but not quite, touching me. A shiver runs through my body.

“What I will say now is that you’re killing me in that apron. We’re going to have to set up a date where you wear it only for me. Perhaps with some of those heels I see you sporting.”

His voice is warm and smooth.

“Really, Henry? An old red apron with a frilly bottom does it for you?” My tone is teasing

“When it’s you wearing it, absolutely.”

I turn my head enough to see his face. There’s nothing to indicate he’s saying what he thinks I want to hear.

When we get to the living room, I stop in the doorway, and Henry almost runs into me.

I’m acutely aware when he puts a hand on my waist to steady himself and when he leaves it there.

I’m watching Layla, on her knees, leaning over my coffee table and coloring away while she sings Frosty the Snowman.

How this child has been through so much with her mother leaving and is still full of joy is a tribute to Henry’s parenting and, I’m guessing, support from his family.

I look over my shoulder and smile at Henry.

“I’m gonna get the food ready. Let’s eat in the kitchen.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get their hands cleaned up and meet you in there.” I hand off Lena to him and go to the kitchen to get everything prepared.

Within ten minutes, we’re all sitting around the table eating. To say Layla is thrilled with the chicken nuggets is an understatement. I’m pleased watching her enjoy them.

It strikes me that this is the first time I’ve had a meal here with anyone except Gram, Lester, Ruthie, and Sally.

With all the holiday activities, especially for Henry with a family the size of his, I haven’t seen Henry since Christmas Eve.

My Christmas Day was quiet. I spent the morning reading, enjoying several cups of coffee, and even sitting out on the swing for about half an hour. Then, in the evening, I went to Ruthie and Sally’s for Christmas dinner.

I didn’t know the protocol for how and when to give Henry’s kids their presents.

For Shannon and Troy’s kids, I went over and spent an afternoon with them.

But it’s different with Henry. I don’t want to overstep.

Hence, when he told me Layla asked when she was going to see me to give me my gift, we made this plan. Here we are.

“Everything okay?” Henry asks.

“Yeah, everything’s good.”

After dinner, Henry insists on helping with the dishes, so he puts Lena in the portable play yard he brought, gives her a few toys, and she happily entertains herself.

Layla, however, still has the energy of one hundred children and marches in circles around the kitchen and back door area holding her baton and singing an off-tune rendition of her own mix of Christmas carols.

Henry and I are just finishing the dishes, and he’s opening the wine for me when a loud whack gets our attention. We turn simultaneously, and I see Layla standing near my kitchen table—a beloved hand-me-down from Gram—her baton on the floor and a noticeable dent in the leg of the table.

Tears immediately fall from Layla’s eyes, and her breathing kicks up, almost to the point she’s hyperventilating.

Between sobs, she says, “I’m s-sorry, Tillie. I wasn’t s’posed to play with my baton. Please don’t be m-mad. I promise I won’t break anything else. Are-are y-you gonna still be m-my friend?”

Oh my gosh, my heart breaks for her. Henry moves toward her, but I put my hand up, silently asking for a chance to help her. He stops. I move to her, kneel, and put my hands on her shoulders.