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On the other and, there was nothing left for me to do but stare at the completed rooms with my heart in my throat.
Would I ever see these bedrooms again?
I had a choice to make, and one I knew I had to make soon. My mom had been right. This wasn’t a normal relationship—there were two, little hearts on the line here as well, and as long as I kept myself in a state of indecision, I was being selfish.
Did I take the risk, or did I take the easy option and walk away?
If I took the risk, everything would change. And, in the weirdest kind of way, I was ready for it. The thought of not being around the twins and laughing at them…Well, that sucked.
The thought of not being around Brantley?
I didn’t want to think about that.
I leaned against the windowsill in Ellie’s room. I’d just made the choice, hadn’t I? Walking away wasn’t the easy option at all. If I did, I’d leave a piece of my heart here.
I’d leave a piece in the paint on the walls and the nails in the floor. In the drawers in the dresser and the shelves that held their piggy banks.
I stared around the room. A box sat at the end of her bed, and a frilly, tulle skirt poked out of the top. While Brantley had gotten most of downstairs unpacked—finally—the kids’ bedrooms had, understandably, been left behind.
Pink hangers hung from the rail Dad had built into the bed. It was the entire width of the bed, and slowly, I crawled under the mid-sleeper bed and dragged the box with me.
One by one, I pulled out each costume and hung it up. Cinderella. Belle. Tinkerbell. Moana. Every costume you could imagine a four-year-old having, she had it.
I paused, fingering the satin-tulle skirt of Rapunzel’s costume. Dad had listened to me—he’d put hooks on the bed under Eli’s.
For his superhero costumes.
I lined Ellie’s dress up shoes on the shelf beneath the rack and used a small tub to put tiaras and gloves in. Leaving the box in the middle of the room, I darted into Eli’s. There were boxes in the corner of his, and damn it.
Excited, I rifled through each one until I found his special brand of dress-up.
Capes.
So. Many. Capes.
A gleeful smile spread over my face as I pulled a Batman one out. Two capes hung from each hook, and I grabbed a small tub to put his masks in. There were a couple hats that sat carefully in there, too.
I slid out from under the bed, pressing my hands against my stomach.
My heart skipped.
Seeing his capes hanging up. Knowing Ellie’s dresses were in the other room. Shoes and masks and gloves and tiaras.
Imagining the smiles on their faces when they saw it.
I bit my lip.
Hard.
Something—something inside me flared to life, and these incomplete rooms weren’t enough. These rooms needed curtains and bedding and rugs.
Brantley was at work.
The twins were at daycare.
I should have been at home.
Instead…
Instead, I tore open boxes. I rifled through the closet in the hall. I laid rugs and hung curtains. I plugged in lamps and fitted lampshades. I bended the legs of action figures until they were sitting, and I taped a poster of princesses to a wall.
I fitted sheets. I shook out pillowcases. I turned bedding inside out before giving the quilts a damn good shake. I buttoned the sheets and laid out soft toys. Wriggled rugs and set them in the perfect place.
Lined books on shelves.
Stacked DVDs next to TVs.
Sliced the tape on empty boxes and flattened them.
Removed them from the spots they’d occupied for too long.
More importantly, I injected a little piece of my love for each of those kids into their rooms.
I hugged empty boxes to my chest and, standing in the hallway, I looked into both rooms.
Perfection.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Just perfection.
***
I stacked the last of the cardboard next to the trash can in the front yard and headed back inside. The clock said they were arriving anytime now, so I shut the door and took up my perch on the fifth step.
They wouldn’t see me when they came in, but I’d be able to execute the final stage of my master plan.
Well, the next-to-final.
The final was the admission to Brantley that I was in love with his children. In love with him. In love with the*m all.
And I was.
Never mind Keeping Up With The Kardashians.
I was in love with the chaos of the Coopers.
Hammered.
Nailed.
Screwed.
Drilled.
I’d done all those things since I’d walked through that front door, but none compared to the things this family had done to me since that day.
Brantley had all but fucked me into loving him, and his kids had done the same thing so effortlessly, albeit it in so many different ways.
A car rumbled into the driveway.
