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“Bet.”
I ended the call, hitting the lock to my Jeep, just as a woman holding the hand of a little girl who was skipping next to her chatting a mile a minute stepped up to the door.
I grabbed it just in time to let them walk through and the woman turned to thank me.
But I was no longer focused on her because the little girl took off running right to Cadence who hopped down and caught her just in time as the little body launched in her direction.
“Mommy look at the surprise Auntie Val got me. They painted my nails. And my toes too. They’re so pretty, do you like them?”
Cadence was so caught up in the little girl—her daughter—that she hadn’t noticed me standing there. Instead she kissed the tiny little hand that was now in her face showing off bright yellow polish.
“I love it. And you got my favorite color.”
“Mommy.” The little girl shook her head. “No silly, yellow is my favorite color yours is bue.”
“Blue, baby and you’re right. Blue is my favorite color but I might have to change to yellow because it looks so pretty on you.”
“You can’t do that. You have to keep yours. You love bue.”
I wanted to smile at the way she messed up the word but I was still processing.
Cadence has a daughter.
“Cadee.” The woman who walked in with the small girl called her name and that was when she realized I was there.
Now I really knew that I couldn’t have her. She had a kid. A kid who she was responsible for protecting and keeping safe and there was nothing safe about my life.
Even still, I couldn’t find the common sense to turn around and walk away. Instead I moved closer…
Impulsive. Incredibly selfish for wanting what I shouldn’t have.
“Mommy. You’re staring and you said that it’s not polite to stare.”
Cadence stumbled over her words but only in her head because her voice was soothing and confident when she addressed the miniature version of herself clinging to her side with tiny arms around her mother’s neck as they both stared at me.
“You’re right, it’s not polite to stare.”
“Who’s this?”
I shouldn’t have asked. My eyes landed on the tiny little face that was identical to the one I couldn’t get out of my head. The only difference being their eyes. The girl’s were so dark they looked like black marbles.
“Elizabeth Grace but Mommy calls me Gracie.”
“Well nice to meet you, Gracie. My name is Jaasir.”
“Jaasir.” She wrinkled her nose, another thing she had in common with her mother. “That’s a funny name.”
“Elizabeth Grace. That’s not nice.”
“But it’s true Mommy, it is a funny name,”
“It is, I hated it when I was a kid until my mother told me what it means.”
“Names have meaning?”
“They sure do and my name Jaasir means brave soul or courageous. Two of the most important things a person can be is brave and courageous.”
“I’m brave.”
