Frayed Silk(9)

“Baby girl! How are you?”

“Good, how are you? How’s Taylor?”

Funnily enough, my mother and Leo’s mother are best friends. Well, if you can call it that. They’re total opposites and used to hate each other when we first got together, but when Leo Sr. passed away four years ago, everything changed. My mother took one look at the bunch of fake friends at his wake and took it upon herself to help Taylor during that time. If not as a friend, then at least as something more real and not as forced as all the well-wishing but quick to disappear socialites who Taylor had thought were her friends.

Taylor didn’t forget and never let her go. They travel together several times a year on Taylor’s fortune. Even though my mom put up a fight, feeling like she couldn’t possibly leech off her like that, Taylor didn’t give her much of a choice. They’re outrageous and kind of dramatic when they get together, but we love them. And I’m glad they’ve found each other.

“Oh, being her typical high-maintenance self. It took her two hours to get ready yesterday morning. I’m telling you the truth. Two freaking hours, my girl. It’s a record, I tell you.”

I hear Taylor in the background. “Oh, shut your mouth. You’re lucky I decided to get ready at all. I was having a terrible hair day, Dahlia!” she yells out to me.

Smiling, I lean forward over the counter onto my elbows.

“Do you know how much living you could do in two hours?” Mom asks Taylor. “We aren’t getting any younger, you old bat.”

“Renee, if I had shown myself in public with my hair looking like it did, I wouldn’t want to live anyway,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Ladies,” I interrupt with a laugh. “Should I go and let you two finish this argument without me listening in?”

“Oh, we’re not arguing, dear,” Taylor interjects.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” my mom asks, sounding perplexed.

God. My hand dives into my hair as I try not to roll my eyes. I pull the phone away from my ear. “Greta! Charlie! Grandma and Grandma are on the phone,” I call out, trying to wrap this up.

I hear them muttering to each other. “Look what you’ve done, Renee. She doesn’t want to talk to us now.”

“Me? It’s not my fault. She’s a busy woman; you can’t hold her up with your incessant gibberish all evening.”

Greta rounds the corner into the kitchen, hurrying to take the phone from my hand.

“Hi, Grandmamas!” Her sweet voice no doubt has them in smiling fits. They dote on these kids like nothing else. I busy myself with getting a salad prepped to have with our steak and potatoes. Getting the meat out of the fridge, I turn on the stove and watch Charlie sulk into the kitchen. I’m not fooled, though. He loves his grandmas; he just doesn’t like to look too excited.

The kids finish talking twenty minutes later, and I say a quick goodbye, telling them that our dinner is almost ready and that I need to go.

After it’s all finished, I place everything on the island in the kitchen. I’m about to sit down when I hear the telltale sound of Leo’s Aston Martin as it rumbles into the garage. He’s home in time to eat dinner with us for once. Huh.

“Um, okay, guys. Let’s move this to the dining table.”

Charlie grumbles. “But I’m too hungry to move.”

I give him a raised brow, and he reluctantly grabs his plate, following us into the dining room. I return to the kitchen, grabbing the salad and another plate for Leo’s seat at the head of our long oak dining table. He walks into the kitchen just as I’m leaving it, but I don’t stop. He knows where we’ll be.

“Daddy!” Greta sings when he enters the room behind me, taking off his suit jacket and laying it over the armchair in the corner of the room. He walks over to her, kissing her, and moving the sunglasses from her eyes to the top of her head. He scruffs Charlie’s hair affectionately, who gives him a quiet hello. I watch it all out of my peripheral vision as I cut up Greta’s steak for her and pass it over. He doesn’t touch me, of course. But at this stage, I’d probably fall out of my chair in shock if he did.

He sits down, and I eat in silence as the kids tell him about their day at school and what their grandmas are up to on their vacation.

“Grandma Renee said she saw a real-life seal! In the ocean!” Greta says with awe.

Her father, to his credit, widens his eyes a little. “No kidding. A real one?”

He almost, almost smirks when she nods frantically.

“Who cares, you can see them in the zoo anyway,” Charlie says to his plate.

I lower my cutlery, frowning at him. “Charlie …”

“What?” he mumbles and then glances at Leo’s hard stare and shrugs. “Sorry.”

We finish eating, and I head right to the kitchen to start cleaning up while the kids race to the living room after their father to watch TV and have dessert. When I’m done, I call them upstairs for their showers and tuck them both into bed.

“Mommy,” Greta calls right when I’m about to head down the hall to take a shower.

I turn around and walk back into her room. “What’s up?”

She smiles up at me. “I love you.”

I tilt my head, smiling back at her and saying the words she wants to hear next. “Not as much as I love you. Good night, poppet.”