Chapter Fifty-Three

Now that Michael’s dangling legs were no longer an obstruction, he slid over a bit closer to Melody. The smell of warm vanilla and peppermint alighted in the breeze, and he debated whether or not to tell her she smelled good or she looked nice—or neither since her mother was sitting right beside him.

Melody smiled at him, and said, “You look really nice,” as if she’d been reading his mind.

“Thanks,” he replied. “I was just about to say the same thing. I mean, that you look nice. Not that I look nice.”

She giggled, and he hoped she knew him well enough now that his silliness wasn’t enough to send her running for the hills. “Thanks.”

An older gentleman stopped to say something to Sarah, and he watched Melody’s eyebrows raise and then lower. She stared at her mother for a long moment and then, with a hesitant smile, said quietl