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The child in her arms wriggles, then holds her arms out to me.
I blink, almost take a step back, then stop myself.
"Oh, she wants to go to you..." Elsa seems as dumbfounded as me.
I stare at the little girl, who all but throws herself at me. I grab her and tuck an arm under her to support her weight. She stares at me, unblinking, then begins to babble. The words make no sense; they are in some kind of completely made-up language.
"Uh, what did she say?" I study the baby who holds my gaze. Huh? No one, and I mean no one, dares stare back at me. Except, apparently, this child here.
"I think she wants you to feed her breakfast," Elsa ventures.
"Breakfast?" I blink at the girl again.
"Children gethangry if they’re not fed on time." Elsa leans past me to shut the door, and the scent of cherries fills my senses. I don’t realize I’ve leaned in toward her until she turns and slams into me.
"Oops, sorry." Her breasts push into my chest, her nipples so pointed that I can feel them through the robe she’s wearing. She tries to brush past me, but I wind an arm around her waist and keep her in place. She glances up at me as her daughter babbles again, then reaches over and socks her head.
"Ow." Elsa laughs. "What was that for?" She cups her daughter's face, then rises up on tiptoe to kiss her chubby cheek. She makes a loud mwah sound.
With my arm around each of them, a weird sensation fills my chest. Clearly, Nonna’s death and the promise I made her is affecting me more than I expected. It’s the only reason I can’t shift my gaze from her as she ruffles her daughter’s hair then tries to pull away from me.
"I need to get her breakfast," she explains, and I release her.
She brushes past me and heads to the kitchen, where she bustles around getting a small bowl out of the drawer. She proceeds to cut up some fruit, which she places in the bowl. When she returns, she places it on the tray of a high chair.
She holds out her hands for her daughter, who turns away and clings to my shoulder.
"What’s her name?" I ask softly.
"Avery," she murmurs.
"Avery." I hold the baby’s blue gaze as she stares up at me. She suddenly laughs, then smacks my cheek.
I burst out laughing, and something releases inside of my chest.
"Avery," Elsa exclaims in a horrified tone. "Sorry,” she turns to me, “this is something new that she’s picked up. It seems to be her chosen way of communicating right now."
I’ve been put in my place, all right, and by a kid.
"How old is she?" I ask as I lower her into the high chair.
"Almost two." Elsa snaps the tray in place and pushes the bowl in Avery’s direction.
The child bashes her hand into the bowl of fruit. Half of a grape goes flying, then a bit of apple. She manages to grab a piece of banana and brings it to her mouth. She chomps on it, then exclaims, "Umm." She makes smacking noises with her lips.
"I know, baby." Elsa turns to me. "That should keep her occupied for a little while."
"So," I glance between them, "you have a child?"
She raises one eyebrow and looks at me like I’m stupid. "It would appear so," she replies.
"You’re fighting for custody of her," I state.
"Excuse me?"
"You’re currently only allowed to have her on weekends, and if your ex-husband, who just happens to be one of the most powerful cops in the police force, has his way, he’ll take that away from you. In fact, you are one step away from losing all rights to your daughter, aren’t you?"
The color fades from her cheeks. Her muscles seem to coil until she is a mass of vibrating tension.
