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Watching her carefully, he considered his options. Should he push her to show him the drawing? She hadn’t offered, and pushing her too hard could make her shut down. It had happened before. But if he didn’t ask, she might think he didn’t care about it anymore, and he wasn’t sure he could ever undo that level of damage. He had to at least offer, but he wouldn’t push the issue right now if she balked.
“Can I see your drawing now?”
It was always fascinating to watch her expressions. Outside of business dealings, she wore her heart on her face. If he paid attention, her big brown eyes would tell him everything he needed to know.
Right now, she was uncertain and troubled. It reminded him of how she looked when she wanted to confess something naughty. It took several long seconds, but she eventually nodded and walked over to the desk.
“You promise you won’t be mad?” she whispered.
Whatever was on that paper, he was certain the last thing he would feel was anger. At least not toward her. “Cross my heart, little one.”
She hesitated a moment longer, then finally handed him the paper.
His stomach dropped. Livvy had always had talent in spades, though she hated the idea of making a living off her art. It was too stressful, she said, so she kept it for herself and their home. Several of her paintings lined the walls in various rooms of their house.
But this was different. She’d gone for colored pencils, her favored medium when she was feeling particularly ‘little.’ That alone gave the drawing a younger, more innocent feeling. The art itself wasn’t as sophisticated as her usual work, either. The innocent, childlike nature of the drawing made the subject matter all the more jarring and heartbreaking.
To the right, a man and a woman embraced. They were faceless figures, really more of an impression of people than actual depictions. On the left-hand side of the paper, she’d drawn a lone woman, with big sad eyes and tears streaming down her face. Livvy had defined the woman’s features enough that he could tell it was Angela Winters. The word ‘help’ was scattered across the left of the page, but a giant black line down the middle of the paper stopped the words from reaching the couple on the right.
His mind raced, trying to find the words to ease her pain. Ease her obvious guilt over something she never could have prevented. He turned his chair so he was fully facing her and pulled her between his thighs.
But she spoke before he had a chance to organize his thoughts. “Are you mad?”
That, at least, was a simple answer. He settled his hands on her hips and lifted his face so she could see the truth of it in his eyes. “No. Not even a little tiny bit, Livvy. You’re allowed to feel whatever it is you feel. I will never be mad at you for having feelings.”
“I know. I just—it’s stupid for me to feel like this.”
“Not at all. I’d honestly be surprised if you didn’t feel a little guilty. I think that’s a normal reaction, especially when something like this happens to someone we know.”
“Maybe.” The frustration in her expression echoed in her tone.
“Would I lie to you, little one?”
She smiled, just a slight lift at the corners of her lips, but it was enough to ease the churning in his gut. “No, Daddy.”
“Then obviously I’m telling the truth about this, right?”
“I guess.”
It was as good of an answer as he could expect, given the circumstances. “Do you want to talk some more or are you ready to go watch a movie?”
“I think I’m okay for now.”
“Movie it is, then. I think I saw that new scary movie you wanted to watch was available to rent.”
Her eyes lit with delight, momentarily banishing the demons she was struggling with. “Really? But you hate those movies.”
“Then you better go set it up before I change my mind.”
Her laugh eased the last bits of anxiety clinging to him. His girl felt things more deeply than he could comprehend sometimes, and it was a relief to know she wasn’t letting herself be smothered by grief and guilt.
Deciding the half-finished emails in his box could wait, he headed straight for the kitchen and popped a bag of popcorn. He dumped half of it into a bowl for them to share. If he brought the whole bag, she’d eat it without even thinking about it and then she’d be sick half the night.
He was walking into the living room when her phone buzzed. She winced at the readout and answered with obvious reluctance.
“Hey, girl.”
Shannon, most likely. James set the popcorn on the coffee table and joined her on the couch. Glancing over at him, she sent him a small, forced smile.
