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I shot out of the booth, ready to rush toward her, already seeing the way she’d fall and hurt herself. But she spun effortlessly around Emma, laughing brightly as she floated toward the table in the back and delivered the men their food.
I stood, stunned at her movements, at the way she’d dodged Emma. It’d been like watching a waltz. I was positive she was about to go down, food flying everywhere, Emma getting trapped under her, pinned to the floor, Uni stomped on and ruined.
But she’d avoided that beautifully.
I slumped back into the booth, a whoosh of air leaving my lungs as I watched her scoop Emma into her arms. The laugh that came out of my child wasn’t one I’d heard in a long fucking time, and it made my throat tighten and eyes burn.
I watched them play, and absently wondered how she was so good with Emma and I wasn’t. Why did it seem like it came so naturally to her?
Shaking myself, I pulled my phone from my pocket to catch up on emails. Emma was in good hands with Reagan, but she couldn’t spend all her time watching my daughter. She had a job to do. It wasn’t fair to expect her to work and play babysitter. Same with Cora. It’s why I never brought Emma here instead of daycare while I went to work.
It would make life a hell of a lot easier if I could, though.
I chewed my lip as my eyes flicked from my phone to Reagan again. She’d somehow managed to get Emma to settle down and draw. How? How could she do everything so…effortlessly?
Maybe I should’ve felt jealous at her ease, but I didn’t. I just felt thankful that Emma wasn’t in a bad mood, and we were having a normal day. A day unlike any we’d had in a long time.
I sighed and turned back to my phone. I could do a little work from here, then we’d have to head home so I could use my computer. I should’ve brought my laptop with me, but I hadn’t expected Emma to want to stay, and it seemed like she was in no hurry to leave.
As I typed out an email, I tried to ignore Cora’s death-glares I felt her send my way. And I tried to ignore the way my heart squeezed every time Reagan made Emma laugh.
* * *
It felt like Groundhog Day.
The next morning, I stood over Emma as she threw herself to the floor, crying that she didn’t want to go to school. Tim and Cora’s words still rang in my head.
Even though they hadn’t said the same thing, the same sentiment was there—do better.
Guilt twisted my stomach as I reached down, gripped Emma under her armpits, and hauled her to my side. She screamed so loudly I was positive she’d just ruptured my eardrum.
“Down!” she cried, kicking her feet. I barely dodged her before I took a foot to the nuts, and shifted her, pressing her back against my front, my arm banded tightly around her middle.
“I can’t do that, baby,” I said softly. “You have to go.”
“No!”
I grabbed her pink sparkly backpack and slung it over my shoulder before grabbing both our coats and my bag, then headed outside. If anyone was watching us, they’d probably think I’d just gotten done beating her from the way she was crying.
Her face was red and blotchy, tears streamed down her cheeks, her nose was runny, and her hair was a mess. I wrestled her into her car seat, wincing at the impact of her tiny fist with my cheek.
“Hitting isn’t nice,” I told her, but doubted she could hear me over her screeching.
I slammed the door, rubbing the ache from my jaw as I rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat. Kid had a damn good left hook, that was for fucking sure. Adjusting my mirror, I shifted it enough to look at her. My heart shattered.
I contemplated just taking her back inside, or calling Reagan to watch her for the day. But I didn’t know if she was saving up to go on another retreat, or how much longer she’d be in town. But knowing Reagan, she’d drop everything to help me. Not because it was me, but because that was just the type of person she was. She helped people, even if she spread herself too thin. She’d done it after Meredith was gone. She took care of us for the week leading up to the funeral, and when she left and I couldn’t rely on her anymore, I felt even more lost than before.
So, no. I couldn’t call and ask her to step in to play nanny to Emma right now. I couldn’t get used to having her around because after she left and Emma had to go back to daycare, we’d be in the same boat we were in now.
“We can go see Grammy after school,” I said, and was met with another, loud wail. Glancing behind me, I pulled from the driveway and tried again. “You can have some of your unicorn ice cream after dinner.” Again, another blood-curdling scream.
I sighed.
We drove the rest of the way in silence—well, not silence. I just didn’t say anything more.
I parked in front of the daycare, trying to rally enough strength to carry her inside. Emma had mostly tired herself out by now, and probably didn’t have the strength to fight me. But I hated taking her inside when she was like this.
It made me feel like shit when Iris, her teacher, looked at me with pity. But I didn’t know how to tell her that this wasn’t even the worst of it. Getting her here was bad, but she should see the bath time fight every night. Or the way you’d think I was threatening to kill Uni every time I made her pick up her toys.
