I gathered her into my arms and rolled us onto our sides, tucking her against my chest. Outside, the world stayed messy, but in this bed, nothing had ever been more simple. It was Mazzy and me. The family we made and chose and would never leave. With her in my arms like this, it was easy to believe.
I swept my lips back and forth over her forehead. “I know you want to talk to me about it, but not tonight.” Maybe not ever. If I could avoid it, that’d be great.
She tipped her head back, stars reflecting in her eyes. “Am I allowed to tell you how proud I am of you?” One brow rose. “Or should I call Murphy and tell him? He played so well—”
I shoved her onto her back, making her squeak. “You’re not proud of him. He sucks. Can barely tie his shoes. He just learned to walk upright, in fact.”
“Oh.” Her pretty lips curved into a smile. “I guess I should just stick to telling you how much I love you, and how proud I was to watch you on TV, knowing you’re mine.”
“Thank you, baby.” I lowered my forehead to hers, my eyes closing. “I play better when you’re watching.”
“Then I’ll always watch.”
She pulled me down on her, and this time, it was my head on her chest. I was far too big to be putting all my weight on her, but she didn’t complain, so I didn't budge.
It’d been a chaotic, worrisome day, but for now, it was easy to set aside.
I’d face it tomorrow.
Or maybe the next day.
Eventually, for sure.
But not tonight.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Mazzy
“Canwegoseethe doggy?” Katty asked, her hand in mine.
“Maybe. We’ll ask Daddy. Bea and Sal might not be home.” I hitched my tote bag higher on my shoulder.
“I hope they are. The doggy’s so nice.”
We were walking down the sidewalk on our way to Ben’s for another sleepover. I loved his house, but the parallel parking situation was for the birds. Of course, he’d offered to pick us up, but I needed my car to get to work and a modicum of independence.
Now that Ben’s season was over, he would have happily driven Katty and me everywhere without a word of complaint. One more day of parallel parking, I might have taken him up on it, independence be damned.
Just as we were nearing his house, a car door slammed shut, and a woman called, “Hello! Wait a moment.”
Katty tugged on my hand. “Mommy, I think that lady is talking to us.”
I turned, my stomach dropping at Louise Wells making her way toward us, a clawed hand clutching the middle of her coat. She looked marginally better than she had the week before. More color in her cheeks and steadier on her feet.
“Hello,” she repeated. “I recognize you. You were at my son’s house the other night.”
I held Katty’s hand tighter, nudging her behind me. “I don’t want to be rude, but I’m sure Roman told you not to come back.”
She stopped in front of us. “He did, but I was hoping…” Her eyes drifted toward his house. “Well, I can’t give up. Roman can be stubborn, but maybe if I tried…”
“Uncle Roman?” Katty popped out from behind my leg. “Do you know Uncle Roman?”
Louise’s gaze fell on Katty, and her breath hitched. She cataloged my daughter’s features—the curls, her big brown eyes, the way she bounced on her toes when she was excited, just like her dad. There was no missing it. Louise certainly didn’t. “Oh my…this is—she’s Ben’s?”
Normally, I loved how friendly Katty was, but now wasnotthe time, kid.
She didn’t get the memo.
