Macy tried to wave back, she really did. But one hand held her mug and the other was convulsively clenched deep in Baxter’s fur.
Tim stuffed his hands in his pockets and moseyed up the walkway.
Baxter let out a low growl. It was just his “I don’t know you” noise, but it was enough to stop Tim a half dozen paces away. The man was absolutely not supposed to look so good, and so familiar. He’d been her first memory, sitting on the floor beside her, teaching her how to stack building blocks. She’d had a crush on him since…she was born—for all the good it had done her. Well, she could at least be civilized.
“Hey, Tim.”
“Hey yourself. That still hot chocolate or do you drink grown up drinks now?”
She looked down at the mug and felt like she was twelve, “Hot chocolate.”
“With or without?” h
