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“Not exactly.”
“When I have a nightmare, I have trouble falling back to sleep.”
I ran my fingers through her knotted hair. “You can always come in here and tell me about them.”
“Really?” Maggie asked.
“That’s what I’m here for.” To take care of her. To alleviate her fears. I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about sleeping with her father.
I hadn’t heard him leave this morning. I wasn’t sure what he thought about last night. Was he regretting it? Or was he thinking about how we could have more? I hoped it was the latter, even though it was reckless.
When he came home, would he act like everything was fine? Or would he want to talk about it? I was used to guys not wanting to talk about feelings or emotions, but maybe Sam was more in touch with that side of himself since he had a daughter.
I pushed thoughts of last night out of my head because we needed to get ready for the day.
“Can we work on our art project this morning?” Maggie popped up to bounce on her knees.
“I was planning to go to the library. We have books due. Maybe we can go to the playground after.” Checking my phone, I saw that the weather was a little iffy with overcast skies. “Then we can work on your mosaic this afternoon before your dad gets home.”
“Yay!” Maggie said as she bounded off the bed and down the hall to get dressed.
I’d hit the jackpot with this job. Maggie was fun and agreeable. She only got cranky when she was tired or hungry. But then, she didn’t have another sibling to fight with.
I remembered my interactions with Elle being epic when we were little, and again when we were teenagers. I hadn’t realized that she was the only one who was there for me. I shouldn’t have been fighting with her.
I stretched, still feeling exhausted from the amount of sleep I had managed to get.
There was a part of me that wanted to retreat to my usual state of being, shutting out any possibility of dating. When I was in that space, I was technically safe. But I longed for connection, touch, and the desire I’d seen in Sam’s eyes.
I wanted more from life. I’d felt almost numb the last few years, but living with Maggie had opened me to the possibility of feeling again. It was scary yet promising at the same time.
After our morning errands and lunch, I got out the cloth I used for my work for the kitchen table, all the materials we’d need—adhesive, ceramic tiles, tile cutters, the sea star shape, popsicle sticks, and grout—and reminded Maggie of the rules.
Once she picked out the colors, I’d need to cut the one- and three-quarter tiles into three or four smaller pieces. I’d prefer she be in another room while I did that.
She ran into her room and came back with her picture of a yellow, pink, and blue starfish.
“This will look great. Let’s gather the right colors, and then I can cut it.” She watched a show while I cut the tiles, then I called her over to show her the clay piece I’d bought for the mosaic.
I showed her how I smeared the adhesive over the surface with my finger, explaining the process so she’d understand. “You want a nice coating to ensure the tiles will stick and won’t pop up later during the grouting process. You don’t want to use too much because it will ooze over the top of the tile and cover it.”
Maggie nodded seriously, as if she were taking it all in.
I was pleased with her patience so far. “When you place the tiles, we need to make sure they are flush with the edge of the shape, and they’re no more than a popsicle stick’s-width apart.” I placed a few tiles before demonstrating with the popsicle stick, showing her how the stick should fit between each piece.
“Can I do it now?” Maggie asked eagerly.
“Absolutely.” I arranged her colored tiles on the table in front of her so she could choose what she wanted. I wanted this to be her work.
She bit her lower lip as she carefully chose the color and the placement of each one. When she was about a third of the way done, she glanced at the other sea star I’d placed on the table as an example. “It doesn’t look the same.”
“That’s right. No two end up being the same.”
“Cool,” she said before choosing her next tile.
I expected her to lose interest after a while, but she stayed focused the entire time. When she was done, I said, “It looks amazing.”
“That was fun.”
