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“Thoserock!” Lewis crows, and I turn quickly. Lewis is coming into the kitchen now, back in his bear pajamas fromyesterday. I scrub my hands over my face, hoping to hide my disappointment. It wasn’t for me.
“The kids got them for me,” Laura says, and when I look at her again, her smile is small and genuine?—
And sad.
It hurts like a kick.
Jessi floats back in, and I remember myself when she gives me an inquisitive look. I pour myself a cup of coffee, listening as Laura and the kits chat.
“Laura is so fun at cooking,” Angie says to me.
Laura blushes.
Benji laughs. “You mean she knowshowto cook!”
I gasp. “Excuse me, I am averygood cook.”
“You make good spaghetti,” Benji offers.
Everyone laughs. Benji preens in that sweet way, where he tries to hide it. I ruffle his hair as I pass him.
Lewis and Jessi take over the pancakes, offended that Laura is getting all the compliments. She lets it go so easily, I wonder if she somehow got up first and was roped into it by the kids.
I pour her a cup of coffee. My hands shake a little as I pour the milk in until the color is exactly as she likes it. I’m handing it to her just as she turns to grab the pot. Her eyes flicker from my offered cup to my face. I watch her eyes clench shut and her lips close together. At first, I think she’s angry, and then I see her face quiver. It’s just for a second, and then her face smooths into something impassive and polite.
“Thank you,” she says, accepting the cup. She turns away and then, hesitating, leans against the cabinet beside me. We don’t touch, but she’s close enough that I can feel her heat.
My head swims. I’m so…
Confused, I suppose.
Uncertain.
We all sit down for breakfast, and though she’s still on my mind, it’s hard to focus on Laura. The kids are bouncing up and down, partly from the sugar but mostly for the presents that they have come to expect. One each, and a nice dinner—apparently, it’s a big enough deal to get them eager.
It’s all so bittersweet, this morning. Angie loves her painting. Benji is so pleased by the new gaming system that he literally leaps from his seat to hug me, tackling me to the ground.
While Jessi seems appreciative of the weekend vacation I’ve booked for her and Lewis, I can tell Lewis understands it for what it is—approval of their engagement, a present for them to go and celebrate.
By the time we’re done with presents, my cheeks hurt from smiling. The kids are gone, shooting off with Lewis to play with the new games, despite me insisting that they were too violent for the holiday’s true intentions. I pull out my phone, aimlessly scrolling. As always, there are emails to check.
I look up when my coffee mug appears in my peripheral. Laura’s holding it out, her jaw tight.
“Thanks,” I murmur. I take it from her. The warmth from the mug bleeds into my palms.
Laura nods once, short and quick, before moving to sit on the chair across the room.
Jessi looks between us, and I worry that the ruse is failing.
Though shouldn’t it be? Since we’re planning on “ending things” soon?
It hurts, thinking about it, but I push it out of my mind.
Laura has no right to make me feel so awful.
I look at her, trying to conjure that incensed feeling I’ve been carrying, but she looks… sad. Wistful. She stares ahead at nothing, mug curled in her hands, knees up. She looks small and young, and I want to do something, to protect her. But the only thing she needs protection from isme.
Jessi eventually bores from our silence and goes to join the kids. It’s just Laura and I.
