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Her happiness has me convinced she will jump at the chance to sew, so you can picture my shock when she replies, “Can’t. We’re going to the movies.”

“Oh, fun! What are we going to see?”

I sling my head to the swinging kitchen door when Brodie answers on Lucy’s behalf. “We are seeing a remake of a movie her mother loved as a child.”

When he ruffles Lucy’s hair before suggesting that she fetch her shoes, I can’t take his “we” as anything but a rejection.

I’m not invited.

His lack of eye contact assures this, not to mention his cool demeanor.

I wait for Lucy to be out of earshot before asking, “Did you decide to go to the movies before or after what happened last night?”

A big knife stabs into my chest when Brodie places his empty mug into the sink before replying, “Last night?” He doesn’t bother facing me. He peers at the window like the scenery he witnesses every day is far more interesting than me. “Did something happen last night?”

Is he seriously going down this route?

Is he honestly going to pretend nothing happened?

He can’t if I don’t let him off the hook.

“Last night when we fuc—”

“Can I wear flip-flops?” Lucy giggles before locking her big eyes with me. Their lack of worry exposes she didn’t hear the anger of my last word. “They’re like butt-hungry swimsuits for your feet.”

Her innocence is so beautiful I can hold back my anger when she is around. “They are, so you better get sunscreen on your tiny white toes. You don’t want them looking like a lobster tail, or I might be tempted to eat them.”

As I chase Lucy around the kitchen while clapping my hands like a crocodile, I recall how much difference a couple of hours makes to a child’s recovery from heatstroke.

Is that why Brodie is acting daft? Did I hallucinate the entire thing?

I couldn’t have.

A connection like ours can’t be fake.

We created more fireworks than the nation dispersed last night.

I also woke in his bed, although the condom wrapper he left on the floor last night was nowhere to be found, and the new box he opened was no longer in his bedside table.

I shake off my confusion when Lucy says with a boisterous giggle, “You can’t get burned inside, silly.” Her eyes bulge as her mouth gapes. “You should wear flip-flops too. Then we’ll match.”

“Henley can’t come with us,” Brodie announces, saving me from lying to a little girl who doesn’t deserve to be deceived. “She… ah… has to study.”

“But you said she was coming,” Lucy argues, unafraid of the brooding tension bouncing off Brodie in invisible waves. She requests to be put down before shifting on her feet to face her father. “I want her to come.”

“No,” Brodie corrects, uncaring of her foot stomp. “I said it would make it seem as if your mother is with us.” For the first time this morning, his eyes lock with mine. “Henley is not your mother.”

“Because you won’t let her be!” Lucy storms off. “If Henley isn’t coming, I’m not going either!”

“Lucy!”

“It’s okay.” I step into Brodie’s path before he can chase Lucy down. “I’ve got this.”

Not giving Brodie a chance to deny my offer or to apologize for being an ass, I barge past him before finding Lucy in her room. She is on her stomach on her bed, crying into her pillow.

“Hey, what’s with the tears? I thought we promised yesterday never to shed tears over stupid, immature boys.”

“Daddy isn’t a boy,” she whimpers. “He’s a man.”

Now is the wrong time for images of his manliness to flash into my head, so I won’t mention it.

“I don’t want to go to the stupid movie anymore.”

The mattress dips when I sit on the edge and rub her back to soothe her hiccups. “How do you know it’s stupid? Have you watched it before?” She shakes her head. “Then you can’t give it a fair judgment, can you?” When she remains quiet, I pull back the locks she’s using to hide her face, before angling my head so she can see my eyes. “Your dad also said your mom loved this movie.” Not wanting to upset her more, I brush away her tears while whispering, “I thought you wanted to learn about your mom?”

“I do.” Her sobs break my heart. “But not without you.”

“I’ll be here when you get back. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you wanted to.” That gets a smile out of her. Not a big one, but it is better than nothing. “And your dad has to return to work soon, so maybe he just wants some time with you by himself.”

“M-maybe.”

I clean away her tears with my shirt sleeve when she sits up. “Do you think you’d feel like going more if we make your toes match your flip-flops?” When confusion crosses her face, I say, “Please don’t tell me you’ve never been introduced to a pedi?”

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