20. Kent

TWENTY

"Poppy!" Lia shouts from her father's arms. Louis opens the door with my granddaughter in one arm and a giant meat baster in the other.

When I cock my head and stare at the utensil, he lifts it and says, "Roast beef. No way mine will be dry."

I extend my arms, and Lia transfers from her father to me, clutching my neck and burying her face in my beard. She moves her tiny mouth toward my ear, whispering, "Where are we going, Poppy?" Her breath smacks of fruity cereal and toothpaste.

"Yes, where are you going, Poppy?" Gillian asks, her turn to parrot Lia. She stands behind Louis, her hands moving near his waist as she ties his apron. As she pulls the dark blue fabric taut, the words come into focus—May I suggest the sausage? I contain my groan and step inside.

"It's a surprise."

Gillian's eyes widen, and she replies, "Oh really?"

"Let's grab your coat, Lia," I say, snatching her gear piled by the door.

"Have fun with Poppy!" Louis calls from the kitchen.

"Almost ready," I say, pulling a pink hat over Lia's head. "Listen, we're going to pick up Vincent and …" Lia eyes me as her mother zips her jacket, and knowing the way she loves to chat, I refrain from telling Gillian where we're headed. "We'll be back by dinner. I'll call you when we get there."

"Vincent." Gillian hands me a backpack of supplies I might need for a day with my four-year-old granddaughter. "Give him my best." She arranges her lips into a knowing smile.

"We will," I reply, slinging the bag over my shoulder and taking Lia's hand.

"Where are we going?" Lia asks as she buckles herself into the car seat that lives in my backseat for her.

"You're such a big girl," I say, attempting to distract her while I wait for her to finish.

"I am a big girl." Click. The final strap locks into place, and I give everything a quick tug to check it's secure. "But where are we going, Poppy?"

"Someplace special. I can't tell you until we arrive because I want it to be a surprise."

"For Vincent?"

"Yes."

"But I won't tell him."

I love Lia to the moon and back, but she cannot keep a secret to save her life. It's one thing I adore about her. I always know what my birthday presents are, because to keep them a secret, Gillian would have to buy and wrap them without Lia … and she doesn't have time for that.

"Well, I want it to be a surprise for you, too," I offer.

"Can I have a hint?"

"Sure, sweetheart. The place we're going is close to Boston. So, it's going to be a bit of a drive."

"Can we sing?"

"Of course we can sing." I hope Vincent doesn't mind Kidz Bop.

Kent: We're downstairs.

Vincent: Be right there.

Kent: I missed your face.

Vincent: You saw me less than an hour ago.

Kent: Exactly.

"Hi," Vincent says, hopping into the front seat. He turns and waves to Lia and I spy her checking him out in the rearview mirror.

"Hi, Poppy's boyfriend."

Vincent gives me a stare.

"Vincent is my friend, sweetie."

"Mommy says he's your boyfriend."

"Well," Vincent says, "we're both boys. And we're friends."

Lia tilts her head, pondering the idea, nods, and says, "Okay. Let's go to my surprise."

I back out of the small parking lot for Vincent's building, and we head for the highway. Knowing my granddaughter will eventually take a nap if we sing first, I turn the music on, and a loud guitar sweeps through the cabin before a chorus of children sing loudly. Lia immediately begins crooning along to "Sk8tr Boi." I'm only familiar with the song because Kidz Bop 4 lives in my car for this very purpose. The tune's ridiculous spelling pops up on the audio display, taunting the educator in me.

I glance over at Vincent. His face stretches and bunches like he's tasted the sourest lemon ever grown. I'm not sure if it's the music, the singing, the lack of Fleetwood Mac, or all of the above.

I lean over and whisper-shout over Lia's singing, "Twenty minutes, she'll be asleep."

He nods and asks, "Where are we going, anyway?"

Hearing the possibility of a co-conspirator, Lia pauses her singing and shouts over the music. "I've been asking Poppy since he picked me up. He won't tell."

"Not even a hint?" Vincent asks.

"Near Boston," Lia calls from the back.

"A Red Sox game?" Vincent asks.

I form a cheeky smile and shake my head.

"The 'quarium?" Lia asks.

"Nope."

"But I love the fishes. And that giant turtle. And the penguins. Poppy, the penguins are so cute. Can we please go see them?"

"We went last summer. And we'll go again this year," I assure her.

Vincent scratches his sexy head. "The Freedom Trail?"

"Yes, we're taking my four-year-old granddaughter on a two-and-a-half-mile historical walking tour."

"I'm almost five!" she bellows. "In May. And then I start kindergarten."

"Yes, sweetie. And you'll have a big cake."

"I want a pink cake with pink frosting and pink sprinkles!"

"Lia, can I ask you a question?" Vincent swivels his head to face her.

"Sure!"

"Is your favorite color pink?"

I peep in the rearview and Lia's eyes go wide, her tiny mouth dropping open.

"Yes! How did you know?"

Vincent opens his mouth, and I spy his beautiful smile when I give a quick glance. A deep guffaw rumbles from his core, spills out, and overtakes the singing children. He may not love cats or children or messes, but even he can't deny the complete charm of Lia.

"She's very cute," he says through laughter.

I nod quickly in agreement and push back against the headrest, enjoying the intersection of Vincent and my granddaughter.

After four more mangled pop songs, Vincent asks, "Is she asleep?"

I glance in the rearview mirror, and as predicted, Lia is out in her seat. Her sweet face rests on the padded strap across her chest. Strawberry-blonde hair, a perfect match with her mother's, veils most of her face.

"Yes," I whisper. "If she were awake, we'd know. Trust me."

"How?"

"She'd be singing. Or talking. Or asking a million questions."

"You're really lucky," Vincent says, glancing back at her.

"I have no complaints," I say, patting his knee. Being here with both of them, Lia snoozing and Vincent next to me, warms my soul.

A group of guitars fills the car, plucking and strumming the familiar opening to "Landslide." And then the voices come in, a choir of children, harmonizing and singing about being afraid of changes and getting older.

"This is Fleetwood Mac, you know."

Vincent cocks his head, and his beautiful lashes frame his eyes, which roll like a log down a steep hill.

"The song. Not the kids," I say.

"Obviously," Vincent says. I lean over and gently squeeze his thigh. My thumb rubs up and down his khakis, longing for a hint of what's beneath.

"Where are we going anyway?" he asks. "She's asleep. You can tell me."

"The surprise isn't for her, silly. It's for you."

"Oh." Vincent's voice squeaks in the most adorable way, and I tickle his knee, delighting in catching him off guard.

"This is our exit," I say.

We pull off and drive down the ramp, heading for what I hope is a day that blows Vincent's mind in all the best ways.

"We're here," I say. Pulling around the corner, I slow the car to find parking and the giant giraffe and store sign finally reveal my surprise.

I gently bring the car to a stop and steal a quick glimpse of Vincent's face. His mouth opens slightly, and he blinks a few times, his eyelashes pulling my attention.

"What? How?"

"Surprise!" I shout.

"Surprise!" Lia repeats from the back. She still has no clue where we are or what the surprise is, but she's never one to miss out on an opportunity to yell enthusiastically.

"Are you excited?" I ask.

Vincent leans over, takes my hand, squeezes it hard, and with a raw emotion in his voice I've not previously heard, says, "Yes. Thank you. Thank you."

A relaxed smile crosses his beautiful lips, and Vincent covers it with his hand. As I examine his hazel eyes, they widen in astonishment, tears glistening in the corners. I wish there was a way to tuck this moment in my pocket and savor it forever.