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Chapter Fifteen
The opening strainsof “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” rang through the house, announcing it was 2:55 p.m. The song meant it was Wednesday, but Agatha hadn’t found a good Wednesday song yet, so this one would have to do. Setting down her mulberry purple pencil, she headed downstairs to meet Violet, singing as she went.
Agatha loved this song and remembered when her family would belt out the lyrics every time it came on the radio. Nobody tried to restrain themselves as they sang along together.
Feeling content, Agatha set out the cookies she had taken from the freezer that morning before Chris had woken up, she was happy Lucy was still providing baked goods even with the babies in the house. Agatha didn’t bake. Ever. But then again, two of her sisters were chefs, so she didn’t have to.
Grabbing her pop from the fridge as the second chorus rolled around, she sang and headed for the door to wait for Violet. Movement in front of her made her scream and drop her unopened can on the floor.
Chris was leaning against the open front doorframe, watching her. Yelling to make the music stop, she stood staring at him as he chuckled.
“Keep singing, Agatha. I always wondered how you managed to walk outside at the same time every day. You have a timer.”
“Shut up, Chris.” Agatha blushed with embarrassment. She had enjoyed singing to the radio as loud as she liked now that she lived alone. Except now she would forever think that Chris was watching her and acted like it was a joke. “What are you doing here?”
“The mailman dropped off a box at my place by mistake, so I brought it over.” He held up the box. “Miss Lovely.”
Stiffening, Agatha wondered if he would make the connection now that he knew her last name, that everything would suddenly fall into place for him. He seemed to remember everyone’s name but hers. That alone should show her that he was not worth her time.
“Thank you.” She stomped up to him and took the box from his hands. She knew what it was and didn’t want Violet to see it. Not yet.
Opening the closet by the front door, she tucked the box in there. The little girl wouldn’t look in there. Agatha would look at it after Violet had gone home.
“Is it a secret?” He nodded at the door.
“No, just not something Violet has to see.”
“Adult stuff?” He winked.
“My stuff,” she stated before going outside to wait for Violet on the step, pushing past Chris’s warm hard body as she went.
“Touché.” He followed her out of the house.
“It’s just my business, okay? I don’t go snooping around your falling-down house, do I?” She sat down, not bothering to get the mail today and leaving her pop still on the floor in the living room, unopened.
“Sorry I said anything. You’re in a bad mood today,” he said but didn’t leave.
“Really? You came into my house, Chris. You laughed at me,” she said the words more to herself as she hugged her knees to her chest. He didn’t care about laughing at people. Nobody ever laughed at him.
He sat down next to her on the front step and put his arm around her. “I just thought that you were cute, Agatha. So cute and sparkly that Violet was coming over. I’m sorry I laughed at you. I should have just sung along because girls do just want to have fun.”
Sighing, she let him hold her against his big body. She could have sworn that he kissed her hair, but she wasn’t going to go there. It was bad enough that she liked being in his arms again, being close to him, smelling him. The longer they sat, the more her body wanted from him, even if it was just a touch.
Looking down the street, she saw Violet skipping their way. She was chatting to herself or her imaginary friend. Today in Chris’s arms, she saw him, their baby. His blond curls were in contrast to Violet’s dark hair. Pushing out of his arms, she rushed into the house away from Chris and the images of their son, a son he never knew about or wouldn’t even care about.
Even though she didn’t even get to see him, he was so much a part of her life. She thought about him often, and that he and Violet would have been the same age didn’t help.
She tried to pull herself together; Violet needed her strong. For two hours, she needed to be strong for Violet. Then she had all night to fall apart. After washing her face in the bathroom, she came out to see Chris and Violet at the kitchen island.
“There she is. I told you she was here.” Chris pointed at her with half a cookie.
“I’m here. Sorry, Violet,” Agatha apologized.
Violet shrugged. “It’s okay. I was telling him that sometimes you aren’t on the step but in the house somewhere.”
Running a hand over her hair, Agatha was mad at herself for letting her emotions get the best of her. This was her Violet time, and nothing got in the way of that. Not even Christopher Lowell.
“Not often,” Agatha stated. She took her job seriously.
