The hammock is swaying in the breeze, sunlight bathing Sam in warmth.
"Honey," he hears.
He looks up at Quinn as she comes over with two glasses of lemonade. She's in this adorable little dress-thing, all flippy white with red polka dots, heels practically floating over the green lawn.
"Quinn," he says, smiling at her. "Is one of those for me, or are you going to drink them both yourself?"
She gives him a look. "Oh. Ha, ha," she says, then she's sliding the cool wet glass into his hand, dropping a kiss on his forehead, wiping off the lipstick with a thumb. "Don't stay out here too long. We're having pot roast for dinner."
"Mmm, my favorite," he says taking a sip, sweeping a hand out to pull her down on the hammock with him. The swaying picks up. For a second he thinks they'll overbalance then they reach some kind of stability and it's back to the gentle movement back and forth. He sets the lemonades down to pull her closer, tighter to his side. "Lizzy asleep?"
"Out like a light. The little angel." She kisses him again, on the lips this time.
With a sigh, he straightens into a somewhat upright position and sets her back on the grass, helping her straighten her skirt. He doesn't want them to get hot and heavy in front of the neighbors. The neighbors who already think he and Quinn are too young to be married, too immature to be raising a child. He doesn't want to cause more gossip, add to their speculation.
Especially since Lizzy's hair is coming in dark. Almost as black as a raven.
"Looks just like Aunt Eva," he always says whenever anyone asks.
He refrains from mentioning that Eva married into the family. That she's the shunned Mexican Aunt he never really thought about until after Lizzy.
Until after meeting Quinn.
"Why don't you give her a kiss for me," Sam says to Quinn. "Tell her how much Daddy loves her."
Quinn smiles a little crooked. "I think she knows that already. I truly believe you love her more than me."
"How could I ever love anyone even half as much as you?" he asks, grabbing her hand and swinging her arm a little. "The moment I saw you, I knew."
Her smile goes even more crooked. "I know," she says. Then she pastes a big one on, phony like she uses when talking to Miss Sylvester. "Just like—"
He cuts her off before she can lie to him, uses his hold on her to tug her closer. Then he's tickling her ribs, her sides where she's most vulnerable, the tops of her feet.
And she's laughing, smiling for real. "Oh, Sam," she says. "What would I do without you?"
It's not love. It's not love at all. But it's something. It's more than he ever expected.
He lies back. Shades his eyes and looks up at the sky. "Going to be a beautiful evening. Not a cloud in the sky."
"Come in, hm?" she says. "Soon?" She turns, starts walking back into the house.
On the top step she turns back to him, blows him a kiss.
Going to be a beautiful evening, he thinks, swaying, feeling the breeze caress him. A beautiful life.