I shake my head. “Carefully!”
Lucy stops just before the hot tub, her face lighting up with excitement. “Wait!” She spins on her heel and dashes to the little shed at the corner of the house, leaving me standing there, confused.
A few seconds later, she bursts back out onto the patio, waving a pair of neon orange swimming armbands in the air like she’s just won a prize.
“I need these!” she announces proudly.
I blink. “Lucy, it’s a hot tub, not a swimming pool.”
“But I want to float,” she insists, already jamming one of the inflatable armbands onto her tiny arm with sheer determination.
“You do know you can just sit in the water, right?”
She puffs out her chest. “But this way, I can be like a jellyfish.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, but honestly, how do you argue with that?
“Fine,” I sigh, kneeling down to help her wrestle the second armband onto her other arm. “But no wild splashing, okay?”
She nods seriously, though I can already tell she has zero intention of keeping that promise.
Once she’s fully seaworthy, she struts to the small wooden steps and climbs carefully over the edge of the hot tub into the water. The second she leans back, her little arms pop up to the surface, and she giggles as the bubbles swirl around her.
“I’m floating!” she squeals.
I shake my head, laughing as I step in after her, letting the hot water instantly relax my muscles.
Lucy closes her eyes, drifting lazily. “This is so nice.”
I let my head tip back against the edge, feeling the warmth sink into my skin.
Yeah. This was a very good idea.
Just as I’m about to fully relax, the sound of the door from inside the house draws our attention.
Christa strides onto the patio, handbag on one shoulder, two bulky shopping bags on the other— every bit a woman on amission.
“You started without me?!” she gasps, looking genuinely offended.
Lucy giggles, kicking her legs. “You were taking Uncle Jasper to the doctor!”
“I was!” she huffs, setting the shopping bags down with a dramatic flourish. “And then I very kindly stopped to pick up some essentials.”
I eye the bags warily. “What kind of essentials?”
Christa smirks, grabbing her things. “I brought the spa here.”
Before I can question her further, she spins on her heel and marches inside, disappearing into the house like she’s about to execute some grand plan.
I blink after her, then glance at Lucy, who is watching with wide eyes.
“What’s in the bags?” she whispers.
“No idea,” I whisper back.
Lucy giggles, then tilts her head. “Do you think she got snacks?”
I laugh. “If she knows what’s good for her.”
