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"What's sturdy?" asked Rhea.
"Imagine a goat," Elara said, winking at Lexi. Then to me, she said, "By the way, did your dad mention I'm going to be helping with the refurb?"
"He did not."
"Mmhmm."
"So, have you got much experience in construction?" I asked.
"Um . . . only constructing pastries. You a fan of mille-feuille?"
"I don't really follow the music charts these days."
"No, no, mille-feuille is—"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Ah. You were joking."
I shrug. "It's been known to happen."
Lexi butted in, "Actually, last time he told a joke, the dinosaurs were still around."
I sent Elara a long-suffering look as she cracked up.
Rhea tugged at my hand. "Daddy, can we go play? Mom's gonna come soon and we haven't found a single real ghost yet!"
"Yep. We'll leave Elara in peace." I looked into her eyes. “See you soon, though, I guess?"
She nodded. "See you often, no doubt."
My heart hitched.
***
Back in my trailer, while the girls played, I packed up their stuff, ready for Steph's arrival. Lexi was getting better at keeping her things tidy, but Rhea still needed some help. As I folded the clothes with crisp, neat corners, I couldn't help but smile. Some habits from my Navy days refused to die.
I looked at the two piles of clothes, amazed by just how different my two girls were.
Lexi was all about dresses, all about pink, all about unicorns. Rhea liked more boyish clothes. It didn't bother me, but I knew some of Rhea's classmates had begun teasing her. One night, she asked me why boys and girls like different things and why people are mean. I fumbled for an answer. My trouble is I'm always too honest. I wanted to say, "Because the world's fucked," but held my tongue.
Steph and I had discussed it briefly, agreeing not to worry but to be emotionally available if Rhea needed us. It was a fine plan in theory, but I was barely emotionally available to myself, never mind anyone else.
The rumble of Stephanie's SUV pulled me from my thoughts. I stepped outside just as the girls barreled into their mom's arms.
"Well, you two look well!" she said, her voice a mix of warmth and that ever-present edge of criticism I'd come to expect. Her gaze raked over my worn shirt and the trailer. Somehow, she instantly zeroed in on the bucket catching the leak. Her eyes narrowed. "Have they been good?"
I knew she'd grill me about that damned bucket the moment the girls were out of earshot.
"They've been great," I said evenly.
The girls, attuned to the tension, grew quieter.
“Why don’t you two load up the car?” Steph suggested, her smile unwavering. She had perfect teeth. In fact, she had perfect everything. Blue eyes, a delicate nose, razor-sharp cheekbones. Stephanie had always been good-looking, but since our divorce, she’d hit the gym hard and had spared no expense in enhancing her physical appearance. Her family was extremely wealthy, and clearly, she’d been dipping into that money to help her get back on her feet.
I didn’t blame her, honestly, although to my eyes, that kind of perfection was strangely unsettling. It was unnatural and made her look like she was trying hard to hide something about herself. Most likely, she was trying to hide the fact that she’d ever gotten tangled up with me. And again, I didn’t blame her for that.
What I did blame her for was the way she'd broken up with me. Still, now wasn't the time to bring that up. Again.
