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I hiccup and manage to smile. “I love you too, Levi.”
“Answer me this, before you go. Are you pregnant?”
I shake my head and see a bit of life dull in his eyes. He wants another baby or at least one with me. “Just a rumor.” Levi pulls me into his arms again and holds me until my tears have dried.
levi
Thirty-Two
It’s beenhours since I dropped Zara off at the airport and the ache I feel in my heart isn’t even close to subsiding. When I returned home, the laughter that I had grown accustomed to had all but dissipated. The girls were moping, they had the television on, but the sound was muted. Stormy wasn’t on her phone like usual, and Willow was just staring out the window, almost as if she expected Zara to show up.
I’m not faring much better, sitting between my girls with each one resting their head on one of my legs. If I couldn’t hear them breathing or feel the slow inhale and exhale I’m emitting, I would probably think we’re dead or living in some alternate vortex because nothing seems right at the moment.
I’m trying not to be a selfish person here. I know she has friends and family in California, but dammit if I’m not pissed off that something has busted the happy bubble we’ve been living in. Deep down, I knew it was bound to happen. We both have work that we’ve been neglecting, but I was hoping that she’d find a way to stay here, to record her music in my studio and not have to run back to Los Angeles.
Of course, she didn’t leave because of work, but because of her friends being in an accident, and that is something I can’t contend with. I would’ve done the same, although, after the other night at Buck’s, I’m very selective with who gets my time now.
As I look out the window, I decide that is where I need to be. Working with my hands, manual labor, anything to get my mind off Zara not being here.
“I’m fixin' to go work in the barn,” I tell the girls. They both pick up their heads and offer me a sad smile. I have no doubt mine matches theirs. “Zara will be back. Her friends were in an accident, and it’s no different if your Uncle Buck was in one. We’d do the same thing.”
“We could always go see her. Maybe she’ll need us if. . .” Stormy trails off with her mother’s death still fresh in her mind. Hearing her now reminds me that I promised myself the girls would get therapy. I’ve been so caught up with Zara and getting the girls back here that I’ve let them down in that way.
“Do you want to talk to someone about your mom?” I ask them both. Stormy shakes her head while Willow shrugs. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” I plead.
“It’s just. . . she really wasn’t much of a mother,” Stormy says.
“We couldn’t call her Mommy,” Willow adds. Both statements stab me straight into the heart because I could’ve prevented this. I was stupid enough to believe that they’d be okay living with Iris.
“How come you never told me?”
“I thought you would take away my dancing, so I asked Willow not to say anything.” Stormy looks ashamed. Part of her should be, but I’m certain that her mother fed her a great amount of bullshit.
“I would never take away something that makes you happy, Stormy. Ever.” I make sure to look at both girls, so they know that I’m telling them the truth. I may not like the dancing, but Stormy does, and because of that, I will support her. “You girls are the most important. . . well, everything in my life. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. That is why I let Willow go to California, so you’d have your sister, Stormy. Hell, even letting you go was hard, but I did it because it’s what you wanted.”
Stormy leans into me and gives me a hug. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you girls.”
“Anything?” Willow asks. Her eyes go wide with excitement.
“Well almost anything,” I say, only to watch her face fall. “What do you want, Willow?”
“A puppy!” she bats her eyelashes.
“Yes, oh my God, Daddy, can we please get one?” Stormy begs.
I act as if I’m standoffish, making faces at them to lead them astray. They clasp their hands together, jut out their lower lips, and continue to flutter their long eyelashes at me. I’m a sucker, and they know it.
“Okay, fine. We can get a puppy, but. . .”
“Anything,” Stormy says enthusiastically.
“No, not anything,” Willow adds. “I won’t pick up poop!” She rolls her eyes in the most dramatic way, causing me to laugh.
“First, we find one that has been left at a shelter. Second, he or she goes to training. Third, all of us care for the puppy. Fourth, said puppy is not allowed on the furniture. If you want to hold or cuddle, you’ll have to sit on the floor.”
The girls look at each other as if they’re contemplating my ground rules. They’re non-negotiable. I refuse to be kicked off my couch by a dog.
“Okay,” they both say in unison.
