“I still have Melissa in here.” I pressed a hand to my heart. “And sometimes I have these dreams and she’s telling me she wants me to be happy, but it all seems impossible.”
“Aww, Oli,” Jamie sighed. “I know it isn’t easy, but Melissa was all about love, and she’d want you to find someone to make you happy.”
“I know.”
“And does this idiot cop of yours make you happy?”
“Yeah.”
Jamie nodded in all seriousness, then grinned, poking his glasses up and punching me in the arm.
“Go, Oli!” he said, and gave me that awful fake-crowd noise he did whenever he celebrated. I’d noticed Scarlett did the same thing, absolutely besotted with her Uncle Jamie. Then, he curled on his side and picked up his tea, sipping it and wrinkling his nose. “Cold.” He headed out to the kitchen, but stopped at the door. “Want a cuppa? Coffee?”
I pressed a hand to my belly. I felt nauseous.
“Water is good.” I followed him out, added, “Give me five.”
Heading upstairs, I checked on Daisy first. She was my chaos-girl, the covers everywhere, sprawled across the mattress, her hair in disarray, a book under one hand and her beloved Annie-bear tucked into her side. Annie-bear was something Melissa and I had given her when she was only a year old, a fluffy teddy with enormous amber eyes. Melissa kissed the bear every time Daisy asked her to. I made sure to kiss Annie-bear now, tucking her in with Daisy, then covering her with the quilt and pressing a similar kiss to my baby girl.
“Love you,” I whispered.
“Daddy,” she mumbled in her sleep, and my already full heart just expanded a little more. I’d do anything to keep her and Scarlett safe, and it hurt that they’d already lost their mom. What were Lazlo’s parents thinking right now? Did they know? Were they scared? Was he still alive?
I shook away the thoughts, drew the door nearly closed, then headed to Scarlett’s room. She was the neat sleeper, and her room was immaculate. The therapist we saw as a family after Melissa’s diagnosis explained that this was partly about control, and mostly, the way Scarlett was. I crouched by her bed, taking in the face that was so much like Melissa’s, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Love you,” I murmured and stroked the hair from her face.
I loved them so much. So, was there enough capacity in my heart for more love? Would I have to shift out some of the grief that still lived there to make space for Jackson? I had to do the right thing for my kids, and was bringing a cop into the house the right thing? What if someone shot him tonight while he was out? What if being a cop got him killed? Could my heart handle losing someone else? Could the kids handle losing another parental figure?
Was I getting ahead of myself?
With a sigh, I headed back downstairs, catching the time on the wall clock. Why did it feel as if days had passed?
Because everything had changed.
“We need to talk about this falling for the cop thing,” Jamie said when I was back in the kitchen.
“Nothing much to say,” I said, and Jamie rolled his eyes.
“Sit. I want to hear everything.”
So, I told him, and he smiled, and by the time I went to bed, he’d managed to calm me down and make me see I hadn’t fucked things up. Still, I didn’t sleep well, and my first thoughts when I woke up were about Lazlo and Jackson. I scrambled for my phone to stop my alarm and saw a simple message.
Jackson: L’s okay. Security guard okay. Talk later X
I rapidly tapped out a reply.
Oliver: Thank you for letting me know. Stay safe X
I loved that we both sent kisses, because somehow, in all of this, it meant something. Jamie and the girls were making breakfast, and I kissed and hugged both of my daughters before tousling Jamie’s perfect hair and earning a growl.
“Leave it, you arsehole! I have a meeting for a research project.” He wore a green waistcoat over a snowy white shirt. The waistcoat had gold-colored thread in a random pattern, and he rocked the style, embracing his eccentric Brit persona, complete with nerdy professor glasses. He looked like an academic dressed like this, and he was so damn clever. His area of specialty was math, but not just math—incomprehensible-to-anyone-normal math.
“Math?” I asked innocently, and Scarlett giggled.
“It’s maths, and you know it,” Jamie fake-snarled and passed me a mug of coffee.
“Math,” I replied. “Right, girls?”
