Something deep inside me hurt suddenly.
“Daddy said you always look uncomfortable outside,” Billie added. “But you still come anyway because you like hanging out with us.”
Oh.
Oh no.
I swallowed hard.
CJ leaned against one of the wooden posts, watching me with unusual seriousness. “He wanted you to have somewhere comfortable too.”
Mine.
The thought arrived unwanted and immediate.
No.
Absolutely not.
Nothing here belonged to me. Not the house. Not the children. Not Conrad.
I was an employee. This was temporary, human, and fragile. End of story. I’d learned long ago that immortality and permanence were not remotely the same thing. People built lives, then they aged out of them. Families would shift, children grew… humans died.
And the immortal remained.
Alone.
Eventually moving on or getting left behind.
I had spent decades perfecting the art of loving lightly enough to survive departures. If I had no roots, no permanence, it didn’t hurt so badly.
So why did this hurt so much?
Why did a shaded pavilion built with my comfort in mind feel like someone was pressing directly against every lonely place inside me?
Billie suddenly launched herself into my arms. Then Bianca hugged me too, not at all as tentatively as usual. CJ joined after half a second of pretending he absolutely was not emotional.
“We want you outside with us more,” Billie mumbled into my shoulder.
The children squeezed me tighter. Suddenly, memories rose up uninvited. Small, rented rooms in boarding houses. Lovers who liked excitement but never permanence. I had lived a hundred temporary lives.
No one had ever built something for me before. I’d received jewelry and clothing. Gifts and grand gestures from flings during brief, passionate years. But this? This was much more. It was observation and daily care. It was someone noticing small discomforts and changing an environment because they wanted me comfortable there.
That was infinitely more intimate than seduction.
I turned away from the children so they wouldn’t notice the tears gathering in my eyes.
“Did your father help a lot with this?” I asked weakly.
“Winnie,” Bianca said in a disbelieving tone. “We’re children.”
Fair point. I laughed wetly despite myself.
Billie tugged on my sleeve. “Do you like it?”
Like it? I looked around at the shaded light, the curtains, the hooks, the sunscreen cabinet, and the cushioned seating arranged away from direct afternoon sun exposure.
Conrad had paid attention to every detail. And he’d pretended not to have a clue why the children were acting so suspiciouslythat morning, allowing them the joy of revealing the surprise to me on their own.
