Page 151 of And Now, Back to You

“All of it,” she sighs. “Mainly the running away on a bus thing, cause I know that freaked you out, but also the stuff with Mom.” I give her the space to find her words. She clears her throat, and when she speaks again her voice wobbles. “I had this idea in my head of how it would be. I thought now that we’re older—I thought maybe if I showed her that I’m different, that I need her less, then she’d want to hang around. But I think—” She drags her hand under her nose with a sniff. “I think my expectations were too high.”

It’s a pinch against my heart. That she’d ever think she needed to change something about herself to be loved.

But didn’t I think the same? Didn’t I try to clear the overgrown parts of myself so that I could be exactly what they needed?

I cross the room so I’m at her side, leaning until our shoulders are pressed together. “I get it.”

Adeline peeks up at me. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s a secret that I’m a little uptight,” I say with a laugh. I thought I could be more fun, more forgiving, but if these past few weeks have taught me anything, it’s that old habits die hard. “It feels like I’m still holding on to a lot of . . . stuff. I thought if I upset my routine, maybe I could start to let it go. Be someone different.”

Her forehead creases.

“But I don’t know. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that I’m the way that I am.” I have a Rolodex and a whiteboard and Post-it notes in my pocket . . . but the girls doodle on that whiteboard every morning. I caught Aiden flipping through the Rolodex for his favorite pizza restaurant he can never remember the number for. And Delilah loves stealing my Post-it notes.

“I like the way that you are,” she confesses quietly.

“I was worried you didn’t. I was worried you needed something different from me.” I swallow around the knot in my throat. “I was worried you were unhappy.”

Adeline shakes her head, hair swinging back and forth. She grabs my hand with both of hers. “Because I wanted to have a relationship with Mom?”

I squeeze her hand. “Because there are times I’m worried I’m not giving you everything you deserve. You and your sister.” It’s my turn to clear my throat. “Things with Camille weren’t always bad. I worry sometimes that I made a decision for the three of us, and my resentment about my experience has kept you from forming the kind of relationship you need. From a mother. There were days with Camille that were really, really good. I want you to have that.”

Adeline studies our palms pressed together for a long time.

“We did have good days,” she says slowly. “But we also had days when she forgot to make us dinner. And our big brother went out to the closest store and bought us pizza, taking none for himself because he wanted us to eat.” She looks up at me. “Penelope and I have never missed a meal with you. You’ve never missed a doctor’s appointment or parent–teacher conference or dance recital. Why do I need a mom when I have a Jackson?”

I have to look away. Tears burn behind my eyes. I thought I needed to shake some part of me loose to give them the things I never had, but I don’t. They want me exactly as I am. Lists and routines and all.

I glance at Delilah on the couch, smiling softly at me with her sweatshirt-clad arms wrapped around her knees.

I wrap my arm around Adeline and press a kiss to the side of her head.

“I love you,” I tell her.

She sniffs. “I love you too.”

“Don’t run away again.”

She snorts a watery laugh. “I won’t.”

“We’re okay?”

She nods. “We’re okay.”

“Good.” She drops her head against my shoulder and we watch the commotion unfold in the living room. Gianna is drawing frantically across the whiteboard while Delilah nods along. Aiden leans out of the recliner to point at something in the bottom corner and Penelope shrieks in delight, clapping her hands together. There’s a focus that wasn’t there before, Delilah quietly directing Gianna, determination settling across her face. My pulse picks up and Adeline snickers next to me.

“You got it bad,” she whispers.

“So bad,” I agree. “The actual worst.”

Except it’s not the worst at all. It’s shared looks and stolen blankets and a weather map open on her computer. It’s coffee-stained Post-it notes and candy in my coat pockets. A laugh pressed against my skin and fingertips tracing along my back. I always liked the things I could predict best, but it took the one thing I never saw coming to show me how much I was missing.

Delilah and all her colorful chaos. She gathered the broken pieces of me and put them back together into something beautiful. Something better. Something stronger.

Her eyes find mine across the room.

“You got a plan?” I call.