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I shake my head at myself, taking a deep breath and pressing my foot down on the gas pedal when the lights change to green.
“Daddy?”
Izzie’s small voice wraps around me and I wait a beat before answering her. “Yeah, pumpkin?”
I flick my gaze to the rearview mirror, watching as she turns to Clay and whispers, “You ask.”
Clay rolls his eyes, puffing out a breath and I turn my gaze back out of the window. Neither of them say anything for several moments. The silence in the car becomes deafening and I can’t stand it a moment longer.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my brows coming down on my forehead as I frown.
“Are you okay, Dad?” Clay asks, his voice sounding so much more mature than the eight-year-old that he is.
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” I plaster a smile on my face, showing my teeth as I move my eyes back to the mirror.
Izzie smiles and nods before turning around and facing the side window, counting the trees out loud as we pass them and getting to thirty-six before she stumbles on her counting.
Clay on the other hand, he doesn’t look convinced, but I know that he won’t say anything in front of Izzie. He’s protective of her, he keeps quiet so that she’s none the wiser, and however sad that is, right now I’m grateful for his conscious effort of protecting his sister in that way.
I take a left turn onto the road that Harmony’s studio is on and my breath stutters in my chest.
It’s been six days; six days since I last saw her smiling face; six days since I last saw the light that shines in her eyes when she looks at me.
Several times I’ve wanted to run back to her and tell her that I’m sorry—again—and that I shouldn’t have been so harsh toward her. But then her words ring loud in my head on repeat “You need to stop running. You can’t keep doing this every time something reminds you of her.”
How could she say that? How could she think that I can switch it off so easily? There will always be things that remind me of Natalia: I have two beautiful children that are a daily reminder of her, I look into the same eyes that she had every time I meet Izzie’s gaze.
She doesn’t understand. She never will. The blood, her face, all of the shouting to try and save her; and then there was the newborn baby that I held in my arms that suddenly needed me.
My breath catches in my throat as I pull into the first open parking space, turning the engine off and closing my eyes as I try to gather myself. I’m not ready for this: not ready to see her and talk to her.
My head and heart are at war, and right now my head is winning without a doubt, but there’s not a thing that I can do to change it.
“Dad?”
I nod when Clay calls my name, knowing that he’s asking more than that one word.
Pushing out of the car, I open Clay’s door and get him out safely before walking around to Izzie’s side and catching her as she jumps out of the open door.
“You’re so good at catching, Daddy!”
“Thanks.” I laugh and tickle her as we walk up the path toward the doors, my breaths becoming short bursts. But I don’t let it show, I put the mask on that I’ve been so good at wearing this last decade and shut off all of my emotions. I’d rather feel nothing at all than everything.
I pull open the door, setting Izzie down as soon as we step inside. My gaze flits around the studio as the atmosphere wraps around me; comforting me but putting me on edge all at the same time. I don’t deserve to feel that way: not now, not ever.
“Have a good session,” I tell Izzie, giving her a cuddle and kissing the top of her head before she skips off into the main part of the studio.
I turn back to face Clay, about to tell him the same but he shakes his head and tilts it toward the door, signaling that he wants to talk. I frown, confused by his actions but shrug and follow him back out of the door.
“Dad?” He huffs. “I know that you’re not okay.”
“I—” I plant my hands on my hips, blowing out a breath before crouching down in front of him. “Sometimes things happen when you’re an adult, sad things that you need time to process.”
His face screws up. “When I talk to Leonie, she makes me feel better. Maybe you should talk to her too?”
I smile warmly at his concern. “I need some time to think, that’s all, buddy.”
“But…” He looks behind me, his eyes widening at something before he continues. “Why are you sad? Is it the painting of Mom and Izzie? Because I love it.”
