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With Maya amused outside with Dolly, I took advantage of the silence to get some work done. My home office was nowhere near ready, so I settled at the kitchen island, turning the stool around just enough that I could keep half an eye on Maya and Dolly.
My email was bursting, and I never thought I’d say it, but I would be glad to get back to the office properly. It was hard to take work calls when I was constantly asked for a snack or some water or did I know where that broken orange crayon was because she absolutely had to have that one and no others would do.
Thankfully, half of my email appeared to be spam mail and some out of office replies. After handling all the spam, I set to work working my way back from all the ones that had come in since three o’clock yesterday when I’d last done this.
With that handled—and a snack for both Maya and Dolly out of the way—I wrapped up a report with my recommendation on a custody case that’d dragged out for over a year now and sent that off to where it needed to be.
I took a break for some coffee and a snack of my own. It’d been such a long time since I’d typed that much and my fingers were screaming for a break. While the coffee machine turned on, I checked on Maya and Dolly. They were curled up together on the sofa under Maya’s favorite blanket.
I smiled, slowly backing out of the room so they could continue their nap.
The coffee machine was done when I re-entered the kitchen, so I fixed myself a drink and looked out of the window.
Specifically, at the yard next door.
Immy was sitting on the porch, and I could tell from her position that she was drawing. She was all hunched up, knees bent—curled into a little ball with just enough room left to move her pencil across the page.
I’d watched her sit and draw like that more times than I could count. It was always accompanied by the biggest look of peace on her face, a peace that was only broken on occasion by her poking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.
Like she was doing now. It was just the tip, curved upward as if she were licking her top lip in just one place. She held that position now as I watched her.
I couldn’t believe that after everything, the last few years had brought me back full circle to the girl I’d left behind.
The one thing I regretted more than anything was hurting Imogen Anderson. Seeing the way she’d looked at me when she’d told me that a few days ago had cut me deeply, and all I wanted to do was make it right.
I was still drawn to her, inexplicably so. Was it because we’d never had closure when I graduated? Or was it because there was still something there?
I didn’t know if I believed in soulmates or any of that shit people spouted. Even if such a thing existed, the chance of running into yours, statistically speaking, was so minuscule that anyone holding out for their soulmate was wasting a hell of a lot of time.
And if you did, by some statistically amazing chance, encounter your soulmate, it wasn’t like fucking fireworks were going to go off in the sky at that exact moment so you knew what was going on.
Although if soulmates existed and that happened, it would be helpful.
I let out a long breath. I was all out staring at Immy at this point, but she was so wrapped up in what she was doing that she hadn’t even noticed.
She’d always been like that, though. When she created, she shut out the entire world.
A part of me wished I had that ability.
I pushed away from the counter and took my coffee outside to the front porch. Her porch was only feet away from mine, and I waited until she realized she was no longer alone.
She peered over at me from behind her sketchbook. “Wow. Two conversations in one day. I guess I pissed God off when I talked shit about church being canceled.”
I leaned against the porch railings and grinned. “Must’ve done. What are you drawing?”
“How do you know I’m drawing?”
“Unless you’re eating that sketchpad, it’s a pretty close guess.”
She pursed her pink lips, and her blue eyes flashed with a spark of feisty annoyance. “What did you eat for lunch? Sarcasm?”
“No, it comes as part of the package.”
“I think I’d like to build the package myself next time. You should be able to order neighbors on demand.”
“You can. They’re mostly for old people, though.”
“Good. I know where to send Grandma next time she reads the obituaries out loud at the dinner table.” She sniffed. “Did Maya like her pancake?”
