I gave him a quick squeeze, then turned my head to ask the kids, “Did you guys eat?”
Oliver looked up from his iPad.
“No. We weren’t hungry before we left. But I’m starving now.”
“Me, too,” Olivia said, keeping her eyes focused on what she was playing and not turning around. “Can we order pizza again, Uncle Brian?”
“Why don’t we make them instead?” I suggested, both pairs of eyes drawing to me with interest. “You can both make your own how you like it and we can even do a dessert one. It’s easy and super yummy.”
“A dessert one?” Olivia sat up taller and licked her lips.
“Yep. We can put chocolate or peanut butter sauce on it and chocolate chips, marshmallows, M&M’s—”
“Let’s do that!” she shrieked, cutting me off and spinning around completely so she was hanging over the back of the couch. “I love marshmallows and chocolate. We can do a s’mores one with graham crackers, right, Ollie?”
“Yeah, totally. Can we eat them on the beach?” he asked, mimicking his sister’s position and looking a milder form of excited.
I looked up at Brian.
He was staring down at me in a way that made my toes curl against the wood.
“Wanna have dinner with us on the beach?” I asked, pressing my hands to his chest. “I think the kids will really like the pizza. I make it all the time, and I don’t mind running out and getting ingredients.”
“Sweet of you,” he said.
I shrugged.
“I’ve been told I can be sweet sometimes.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
“Yeah,” he breathed.
“Are you guys gonna kiss like they do on TV?” Olivia questioned through a small, excited voice.
“That’s disgusting,” Oliver muttered. “I can’t watch this.”
Brian’s chest shook with a laugh, breaking him out of his fixation.
I tipped my chin back and waited with eyes closed and lips puckered.
He gave me a very G-rated kiss, sending Olivia into a fit of giggles while Oliver groaned uncomfortably, apparently he lied and totally watched it happen, then Brian pulled back only to press another kiss to my forehead.
I moaned and melted closer.
Forehead kisses from Brian were the best.
“Make a list for the store,” he ordered. “I’ll go.”
I smiled, then turned to Olivia, who was still watching us, and gave it to her.
“Ready to play hair salon?”
She was ready, and she showed that by dropping her iPad on the couch like it was on fire and trading it for a bubblegum pink case she pulled out of her duffle, holding it above her head with both hands and nodding frantically.
I wanted to eat her up. She was the cutest.
After making Brian a list of ingredients, I sat on the floor in front of the couch and let Olivia brush, twist, braid, pull, and tease my hair, accessorizing me with nearly every clip she had, all while listening to her gab about Minecraft, some show about a gumball, and her brother, who was older by ten minutes.
Then we switched places and I made her hair super pretty, as requested.
* * *
The kids loved making their own pizzas, which both ended up being extra sauce and two types of cheese after Olivia heard what Oliver wanted and changed her mind from her original plan, lots of pepperoni.
It was sweet how she wanted to keep with what he had, and according to Brian, it happened a lot and Oliver was the same with her.
I wanted to eat Oliver up, too.
Seriously, these kids were the sweetest things in the world.
We had our slices of pizza on the beach, picnic style on a blanket, then the two of them ran around for a bit and got in the water but only up to their knees, keeping their clothes dry.
When it was time for dessert, we headed back inside and I popped the s’mores pizza into the oven while Brian sat on the couch between the kids and cued up a movie on Netflix.
I could see the top of Olivia’s wildly accessorized head. It was resting on Brian’s shoulder. Oliver’s wasn’t but he was sitting close enough I knew he was leaning against him, too.
It looked natural. All three of them cozying together. The scene struck deeper than witnessing a doting uncle spending time with his niece and nephew. It warmed my heart so much more than I was expecting, blooming unfamiliar hopes and dreams and wishes inside me. I stood next to the island for long silent minutes, taking shallow breaths and staring at the three of them as fear and longing spread through my soul.
I wanted kids.
For the first time in my twenty-four years of life, I wanted kids.
I, Sydney Whittaker, wanted to be a mom.
Holy …shit.
I was either going to pass out right here, throw up, or start crying. One of those three things was bound to happen.
Brian turned his head and peered at me over the couch.
“Coming over?”
I sucked in breath through my nose, feeling it tingle as my eyes watered.
Option three. I was going to start crying.
Brian noticed my change in demeanor and craned his neck farther to question it.
“You all right?”
I needed to get a handle on my emotions. This was a happy night, and I didn’t want my newfound desire for kids bringing down the mood in the room.
But seriously, this was life changing and warranted a minute of freak-out, at least.
Just not right now.
Needing to find my composure since I had eyes on me, I turned my head and looked at the wall by the slider, focusing my gaze on the eight-by-ten picture that hung there of Jamie on the beach, sun beaming down on him, board in hand and a shiny gold medal around his neck.