I smiled down at my son and pushed those thoughts to the back of my head. There were always going to be things that reminded me of Sam’s father. It was no use getting upset over them.
“Many years ago, a bunch of people looked at the desert and decided they wanted to build something fun,” I explained. “So they built a huge playground, for grown-ups. Each year, it gets bigger and bigger, and now it takes up so much space that I probably won’t even see any sand.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “A playground?”
“A playground for grown-ups,” I reminded him. “There isn’t much there for little boys to do. You’d get bored.”
I could tell he wanted to ask more, but his eyelids were drooping heavily now. I took him in: his small button nose, those pink cheeks, his delicate, curving lips. God, I was going to miss him so much.
“Mommy,” he breathed, “do you really have to go?”
Pinpricks of tears stung my eyes. I didn’t want to go. What was there for me in Las Vegas?
“I do, honey. But I’ll bring you back something, okay? Would you like that?”
“I’d like it more if you stayed here,” he replied, his voice muddled by sleep.
Of all the things Sam could have inherited from his father, the ability to inspire guilt like a pro was probably one of the better things.
“I’d like that too, pumpkin, but sometimes Mummy has to do things even when she doesn’t want to.” I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You sleep tight, Sammy. I love you.”
“I love you too,” he murmured. “Don’t forget to come home.”
My heart clenched. It was going to be my first time away from the little guy. Sure, I wouldn’t be forgetting to come home, but the sentiment still tugged at my heartstrings.
“I won’t forget,” I murmured, pushing myself to my feet. “I’ll be wishing I was home the whole time.”
I padded quietly out of his room, flicking off the light on my way out. The nightlight sent an effusive glow over Sam’s face. He looked like an angel. My little angel.
I had another hour before I had to leave for work, and I figured I’d grab a quick dinner and finish packing. I had no idea what I’d need for a weekend in Las Vegas. My friend Sarah, whose bachelorette party it was, had said to wear something sparkly, but I hadn’t owned anything sparkly since before Sam was born.
My father, Bill, was out in the kitchen, which surprised me. He’d been fast asleep in front of the TV when I’d gone to put Sam to bed.
“You’re alive,” I commented.
He made an amused snort. “So my doctor keeps assuring me. Where do you keep the snacks around here, kid?”
I raised my eyebrow at him, but he continued rooting through the cupboard.
“Are you asking me where Sam’s snacks are?” I inquired.
Dad nodded, peering at the contents of the cupboard from beneath his wispy, graying eyebrows. “Sam told me you’ve been giving him applesauce, and now I’ve got a mighty hankerin’ for it.”
I laughed and swung open the cabinet next to the one he was looking in. With a flourish, I pointed to the modest bounty of snacks inside. “Don’t eat all of them. Sam will want some snacks for the road.”
“So will I,” Dad commented. “He takes after me more and more each day.”
I patted my dad on the back and started fixing myself some dinner. I would have just made a couple slices of toast, but Dad always paid special attention to what I ate when he was around. He would leap at any sign of trouble, and he considered toast for dinner to be especially troubling. I put on a pot of water to boil some pasta instead. I would need the carbs.
“I don’t want to go on this stupid trip,” I said.
My dad, now leaning against the counter, eating a little cup of applesauce, grunted. “I won’t have this fight with you again, Skyler. You’ve got to go.”
I frowned. “I wasn’t going to fight. I’m just venting a little. That’s normal isn’t it?”
“What would be normal would be you actually being excited to go on a trip with your girls,” Dad reminded me. “When was the last time you went out and had some fun, honey?”