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“I drew you.”
“You did?”
I crouch as she runs back to her desk and then returns, her pigtails bobbing as she runs, a colorful drawing of a man with an extra arm sticking out the side of his neck, a pink tie, a gray suit, and blue hair. A little girl with a crown atop her head holding his hand. Her skills are still behind other children of her age, but she’s making progress day by day. Tia has the fight of a warrior and when I think back to all she’s had to go through in her young life, all she’s lost, I’m astounded and humbled by her.
“I love it.”
“Can we put it on the fridge?”
I stand and purse my lips, shaking my head. I watch her face fall before I speak. “I think this needs pride of place in my home office.”
Tia’s face beams as she throws herself into my arms.
“I love you, Huddy.”
I kiss her hair, relishing the scent of strawberry shampoo, which I’ve used on her hair since she was a baby. This is home for me; Tia and the unquestionable love she gives me. This is what matters. “Love you, too.”
I stand, fighting the emotion that doesn’t usually leave me so raw, and walk Mrs. Price to the door while Tia dances around the den, playing some imaginary game in her head.
She stops me at the door. “I saw what happened in Vegas.”
My jaw clenches, any hope of hiding my misdemeanor is gone. “I guess what happened in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas after all.”
Mrs. Price ignores my attempt at humor. “That’s her, isn’t it?”
My muscles still and I want to deny it, but this woman knows me too well. Yet still I don’t confirm her words. “What makes you say that?”
“Look at the picture that Fresh News is running.”
She leaves me with those cryptic words, and I watch her amble slowly down the drive and get into the five-year-old Toyota she won’t let me replace before she drives away. Taking out my phone, I scroll to Fresh News and don’t even have to bother searching for the article about Audrey and I and our impromptu marriage because it’s front and center. I curse my stupidity. I know better than to let something like this happen.
I click on the thumbnail of an image and instantly my heart constricts in my chest, sweat dotting my brow, because even a blind person could see how I feel about Audrey from this picture.
Audrey is beaming at the camera, but my eyes are on her, and every tender feeling I have for her is shining in my eyes. I don’t know what possessed me to allow myself to be open like I did, but I need to get a lid on this and fast. A quick divorce contract should be simple enough to draft after Tia is in bed, but today I want to spend the day with my favorite person in the world.
A day spent playingoutside in the sunshine with Tia was just what I needed. Everything is simple when I block out the noise and simply let myself enjoy my time with her. It’s not something I get to do as often as I’d like, and I know she misses me. Tia doesn’t hide her feelings or thoughts from me and it’s refreshing, but also brutal sometimes when I see how my absence affects her.
We play ball in the park, kicking it between us gently as she asks me question after question about everything, from why trees can’t talk to if I’ve ever met a real mermaid. It’s exhausting and wonderful, and the innocence of it is the perfect balm. We get lunch at Tia’s favorite pizza place and eat ice cream down by the pier as she looks for mermaids. Her constant chatter is a perfect counter to my thoughts, keeping me from obsessing over the last twenty-four hours.
I ignore the constant calls from Lincoln Coldwell and the few I’ve received from Ryker Cabot. The latter I might consider a friend, but I know how protective Audrey’s friends are of her and I love that she has that. I ignore them all. This is between Audrey and I and, no matter how much they care, it’s none of their business.
A text pops through from Lottie Coldwell and I smile. Lottie is Lincoln’s wife and, for better or worse, she worships him. I drew up the original contract between them, which was a marriage of convenience, in effect to get her out of a whole lot of debt. At the time, I thought she was making a huge mistake, but in hindsight, it was for the best. They got their happy ending, even if it did have a whole lot of heartbreak on the way. I respect Lottie and what she was willing to do for her brother who has diabetes. I saw a lot of myself in her and our stories had a similarity that made me want to help her.
We were both raising our siblings after our mothers’ deaths and fighting the uphill battle of that twisting road. It took me a while to really see how much Lincoln loved her, and I still wouldn’t say I like the man, but I tolerate him because I consider Lottie a friend. Even if she doesn’t have any knowledge of Tia’s existence.
Nobody does. I keep my private life locked down so tightly that nobody knows about her. Not because I’m ashamed, but to protect her from the people I work for and with. Also, because I hoard that happy part of my life like a dragon and his gold. It’s mine and I want to protect it. I don’t want the outside to corrupt my sanctuary.
I open the text as Tia skips along beside me, singing some song from a movie about an Ice Princess.
Lottie: You have some serious explaining to do, mister.
I laugh out loud at the tame threat in her tone. I’ll respond later once Tia is asleep.
I drive us home and make a light dinner of fruit salad before I commence the bedtime routine I have in place for Tia. Once bathing is done and teeth are cleaned, I sit on the edge of her pink bed as she rests against me and read her favorite story, pausing on each page so that she can run her fingers over the pictures she knows by heart. As her body slides into sleep, I continue reading, this familiar routine soothing to me, too.
Closing the book, I tuck the blanket around my sister and kiss her dark curly head. She’s so much like my mother, and I’m glad for it. She has nothing of the bastard that sired her, in looks or personality.
I’m picking up the toys from the den floor when my phone vibrates with a text. Expecting it to be another voicemail message I frown, but it’s not a voicemail. It’s a message from Audrey.
