Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
She needs me less and less.
Gabby opens the door before we even ring the buzzer. She’s grinning. “I thought that was you.” She bends down to give Willow a hug. Her bump is bigger now. We’re going to have to tell Willow soon or she’s going to guess.
“Can I show Daddy my room?” Willow asks, pushing past her mother to get inside and not even waiting for a response.
“Come in,” Gabby says.
I frown. “I don’t want to make things awkward—”
Gabby laughs. “You will if you stand on the curb looking pained. She’s excited to show you her new room. You should go. Then you’ll be able to picture her, where she is.”
She says it like she’s helping me go through the adjustment of Willow’s new arrangements, rather than us both helping Willow.
I push my hands into my pockets and take the steps up to Gabby’s house.
“Daddy,” Willow yells from somewhere upstairs.
“I’ll take her case up,” I say.
“Can I get you a snack? I’m making something for Willow.”
“I’m good, Gabby. But thanks.”
“But stay for a while,” she says. “Help her settle in.”
I’ve been angry at her wanting to change this arrangement, but I’m grateful she’s being gracious about it and is trying to help Willow navigate everything.
“Where are you?” I call up the stairs.
“Keep going up the stairs,” Willow calls back. “There are lots of stairs, like at our house.”
Our house. I let out a huff of a laugh. Whenever she used that phrase before, she meant Gabby’s, her, and my house. And I’ve never really seen the townhouse as our house. It’s just been the place where I’m with Willow. But now…now our house is our house.
A home.
A place I can relax in, and not feel like it’s just one of two hotels I use over the course of a week.
Eventually, I find Willow in her room.
“Wow, you have a swing in your bedroom?” I say, as I find her sitting with her favorite stuffed animal in a pink rope saucer swing that hangs from the ceiling.
“Isn’t it cool?”
“Very cool,” I agree. I glance around at the decoration. It feels much more grown up than her room back at the townhouse. It has a modern wooden four-poster bed with white voile draped over it. There are two beanbags under the window next to some bookshelves that create a little reading nook, and a beautiful art deco mirror over a dressing table.
Instead of sugar pink, the walls are a pale mink color with a similar-colored carpet, and the far wall has a collection of framed artwork that I recognize as Willow’s recent creations.
“It feels very grown up,” I say.
“I can brush my hair here,” she says, hopping off the swing and sitting on the stool by her dressing table. “And Mommy bought me some stick-on earrings.” She glances at me as if she’s waiting for me to tell her she can’t wear them.
“Let me see?”
She pulls out one of the drawers in her dressing table and hands me a sheet of different-colored gemstones. “They’re just pretend, Daddy.”
“They’re very pretty,” I say. I’ve always been clear that I don’t want Willow growing up before she needs to. Pierced ears aren’t allowed. Not until she hits double figures. “Do you want some on now? I can help you.”
Her face lights up. “You don’t mind?”
I shake my head. “I don’t mind. I just don’t want you putting holes in your beautiful skin when you’re little.”
“But these don’t make a hole,” she says.
“I know. What about the blue pair?” I suggest. “Like sapphires.”
“I like the green ones. They remind me of Aurora’s eyes,” she says—and it’s like her words are a physical blow.
“They’re pretty too,” I manage to say.
“Will Aurora live with you like Ray lives with Mommy?” she asks, sweeping her hair behind her ear so I can put her chosen gems on her earlobes.
Her question has me rooted to the spot. I can’t move. Why would she think that Aurora was going to live in the townhouse with me?
“What makes you ask that question?”
She shrugs. “I just wondered if you’d have someone like Mommy has someone. I don’t want you to be lonely while I’m here. And Aurora is very pretty. And kind.”
I manage to gather myself and peel off one of the green gems. “Yes, she is kind. And pretty. But she’s not moving into the townhouse.”
“Oh,” she says, and she looks a little disappointed.
I press the first gem on her ear and Willow smiles. Then I put the second sticker on. They look surprisingly realistic.
“How do they look?” she asks.
They look lovely. She looks lovely. And happy. And relaxed. And like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Do I look like I have Aurora’s eyeballs on my ears?” She makes a silly face.
I laugh at her being goofy and make my own stupid face to rival hers. I’m relieved there are no tears, no begging to come back to the townhouse or sadness at missing her old bedroom. It’s not what I was expecting, but I’m happy. Relieved.