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“Princess Ella! You have a tiara!” the nurse exclaims, and my lips pull into a huge smile at Ella’s reaction.
She jumps and twirls around to face her. “Yeah! And so does Queen Charlotte!”
“Queen Charlotte? I was not aware that we had more royalty in our midst.” The nurse curtsies with a warm expression.
I bashfully wave her curtsy away. In a posh and proper tone, I say, “Please, forget the pleasantries. We are all friends here.”
This earns a big laugh from Ella, and I want to bottle it up forever. I will do anything for that little girl to hear that again. Ella leaps and bounds toward the nurse and follows her, the door closing behind them.
“Thank you,” Harper whispers, and I hear the sadness in her tone.
Turning toward her, I rise to my feet and find a seat next to her. “You don’t need to thank me for anything involving her. Please. It’s my pleasure.”
She wipes a tear away from her eye and says, “Well, I’m going to thank you anyway.”
“Fine.” I laugh. “You’re welcome.” I remember the video she took of us, and it reminds me to ask, “Can you send me that video? I mean, if you’re okay with it, of course. I would love to have it.”
“Of course! But have your tissues ready for when you see how she looks at you. She adores you like the big sister she’s never had. Not to overshare…” She trails off.
I cut in before she has a chance to say anything else. “Please overshare. I would love to hear whatever you’re going to say.”
She grins and continues, “Ella was my miracle baby. I wasn’t supposed to be able to have kids, especially at forty-two, and then a short time after my husband and I separated, I found out I was pregnant with her. He wanted nothing to do with us anymore, and I was just fine with that. She has always been my greatest blessing.”
“That’s beautiful,” I whisper, my eyes mirroring her own with unfallen tears.
The door opens again, and the same nurse comes out to get me. “Queen Charlotte, are you ready?”
Absolutely not. Charlotte might want to tuck her tail and run away forever. But Queen Charlotte has a duty to her princess, and that must be upheld.
“Yes.”
Before the effects really take me out of commission for days, I create a bunch of posts for the Nighthawks social media and schedule them to automatically post on certain days and times. I also email and text Laura that I’m not feeling well and might need to rest for a couple of days and won’t be able to travel for tomorrow’s game.
Hopefully, she won’t question me too much about it. I’ll just tell her I have the stomach flu or something.
Thankfully, I have the house to myself for a couple of weeks while Josh is back home in Duluth, visiting his family and having a little vacay. So, at least, I can tear all the walls of my facade down within the confines of my own home.
If I’m not better in a few days or my symptoms aren’t manageable, I’ll figure out what the hell I’m going to tell Laura. But for right now, I just want to take a fat nap and binge some shows.
Before I get too comfortable, I make myself do something that I’ve been putting off, but I know I’ll be grateful for it in the end. If I want to keep appearances up, I need to order a wig. A really good one that will fool everyone that it’s my hair. I’ve noticed it beginning to thin, even losing small chunks of strands when I shower. But thankfully, it’s still full enough that I haven’t needed to add in extensions or anything to thicken it up yet.
I manage to get through the first six episodes of The Vampire Diaries, uninterrupted, until my phone scares the crap out of me when I get a call from my dad, which I ignore and let ring through to my voice mail.
We usually talk, like, once a week, if that, just to catch up. I think it’s more of a familial obligation we feel we must uphold and less of a desire we truly have. I would like to imagine that, one day, our relationship will once again be one of hugs and quality time spent together. But I don’t see the likelihood of that being high. My dad just isn’t really there anymore. I think he lives in his head most of the time. Maybe he replays memories of my mom and him together again in his mind. With that thought, I find it hard to be angry with him for his distancing. As long as he’s happy, or at least as much as he can be, then I’m happy too.
My doorbell rings, and again, I jump. Mostly because I’m not expecting any company. Throwing my soft and warm blanket off of my lap, I hesitantly and very quietly walk through my living room and approach my front door with stealth.
Peering through the peephole, I have absolutely no idea who to expect. No one is there. What the heck?
I can see something sitting on the ground. I give it a few seconds before I unlock my door and pull it open.
Sitting on the ground is a bouquet of fresh flowers and soup from my favorite place in town. Laura must have done this. But I can’t deny the way my heart skips at the thought that it might be from Reed. But I know that’s impossible.
My nose is filled with the aroma of the best tomato soup in the world as I pick up the bag and my flowers and turn back inside. My phone chimes as I kick the door shut behind me. Walking over to the kitchen island, I set everything down, then grab my phone from my couch. It’s a text from Laura.
Laura: Feel better! I love you!
Guilt wraps around my heart like a snake and constricts it tightly. I hate all of the lies more than anything. Reed, Laura, and my dad are the most important people to me, and I’m lying to every single one of them. Well, I guess I haven’t even talked to my dad, but the same guilt hurts at the thought of him anyway.
