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Despite Corey’s unpleasant reappearance in my life, and the dissension he creates for the team, things between Kingston and me are amazing. When we’re in Seattle, I spend most nights at his place. I have an overnight bag already in his car for tonight.
Kingston is a big fan of what he calls “little surprises.” Pretty much every time I end up at his house, there’s something new in his closet for me, which now has a rack that’s slowly amassing outfits in my size. He’s even started to fill a drawer with cute pajamas and pretty lacy bra and underwear sets—some expensive and some not. He says it’s so I don’t have to worry about packing an overnight bag all the time, and if I forget something, I’ll have the essentials at his place. It makes logical sense, and I love his thoughtfulness, but sometimes I wonder if I truly deserve all this, him included.
I give my head a shake and focus on work. As I wrap up replying to emails, Violet pops her head in the office. While she’s always a bit of a verbal whirlwind, she’s also generally very put together. Today that doesn’t seem to be the case.
“Oh, thank God you’re here. Have you seen Alex? He’s not in his office.”
“He’s been in a meeting for”—I check the time on my computer screen and cringe—“a couple of hours now. I’m not sure when he’s supposed to be done.”
“Is it important? Do you think we can interrupt?” Two little figures appear behind her: Lavender and River. Today they’re not holding hands, though. Instead, River is clutching one of those plastic beach pails to his chest. His little shoulders cave in, and he makes a sound that’s a combination of a groan and a sob before he wretches. Lavender pats him on the back, and Violet turns her head and tries to suppress a gag.
“Oh God, is River okay?”
“I think he has the flu.”
I grab a handful of tissues and round my desk. After leading him over to one of the chairs, I get him to sit down while Lavender clambers into the one beside him. I wipe his clammy face and brush his damp hair away from his forehead.
“Thank you for doing that. I have a hard time with—” She motions toward her face and the bucket River is holding.
“It’s fine. So does my dad. Whenever I was sick as a kid, I had to keep him away from me so he wouldn’t react by tossing his cookies too.”
“I can totally relate to that.” Violet blows out a breath. “I have an appointment with his doctor in half an hour, but I was hoping I could leave Lavender with Alex, because I’d really like to avoid her getting it too. Or being in a doctor’s office with a bunch of other sick people.” Violet pats her daughter on the top of her head but keeps her gaze averted from the contents of the beach pail.
“Lavender can hang out with me until he’s finished his meeting, if that works for you.”
Violet drops down into a crouch so she’s at eye level with Lavender. “Do you think you’d be okay to stay with Queenie for a while? Just until Daddy is out of his meeting?”
Lavender looks from her mom to me and back again, little lips pursed in a line.
“Did you bring your coloring stuff? We could draw together while you wait for your daddy,” I offer.
Lavender considers that for a few seconds before she finally nods.
“Awesome. Looks like you’re good to take River to the doctor and get him all fixed up,” I tell Violet.
“Thank you so much. I really appreciate this.”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
Violet kisses Lavender on the forehead. “I shouldn’t be too long: an hour and a half or so tops. And I’ll call or text with updates so you don’t worry too much,” she tells Lavender.
“What about Robbie and Maverick? Are they here too?”
“They’re in school until four, and then Robbie has his Botany Club and Maverick has hockey practice, so we’re all set there.” She guides poor River out of the office, murmuring reassurances.
I turn to Lavender, whose attention is focused on the empty doorway. Her hands are in her lap, and she’s wringing them nervously. “We should probably wash our hands, shouldn’t we?”
She drags her gaze away from the doorway and nods once. After slipping off the chair, she follows me to the bathroom. She’s too small to reach the sink, so with her permission I lift her up onto the vanity and turn on the taps. She runs her hands under the water, and I pump soap into them. “We’ll wash them really well so you don’t get what River has, okay?”
She nods again and rubs her hands together, and I start singing “Happy Birthday.”
