The First Taste(96)

“Is it about Bell? Is she . . . is she okay?”

I get a surge of regret with her question. Her concern for Bell touches me, but it’s too little too late. Amelia isn’t Shana, but if she’s spooked this easily, she could be. “Bell’s fine. We’ll get through it.”

“I’m sorry, Andrew.” She glances nervously at the group of chattering women. At Bell. “I . . . I like her. I didn’t even know children like Bell existed. She’s so mature but free. Wise, but still na?ve and innocent. I’m not sure I’m ready to jump right in with her, but—”

“Don’t.” I pull at my collar as my throat feels like it’s closing. I only see Bell crying all those late nights, confused about where her mom was. “I can’t go there.”

Sadie waves me over, and Bell notices, perking up when she picks me out of the crowd. She’ll be over here in a flash, I can tell.

“Let me make it up to you,” she says. “We can go for real food after this lunch. Pizza, beer, and then my place to talk. I’ll make myself sick with carbs if that’s what it takes.” She smiles a little, but I just stare at her.

“I have Bell.”

“She can stay with Sadie tonight. You’re already here in the city. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

“Which mistake?” I ask.

“I let my fear come between us. I know that’s what you’re doing right now by not giving us a chance to work through this.”

I scrub my hands over my face. “Don’t turn this on me—”

“Please, Andrew. Just—don’t shut me out. I can make it right. Forget the pizza. I’ll open a bottle for us. I’ll draw you a bath with all the Tahitian vanilla I can find. We’ll be you and me. We’ll drink, soak, and talk. About everything. We’ll figure this out.”

I look at the ground, as if that will stop the tempting picture she’s painting, a picture of us in our little bubble. Who were we kidding? We can’t live in there. We can’t hide from our problems in a bathroom.

Bell’s Mary Janes click-click-click as she runs up and attaches herself to my leg. “She was surprised! Did you see?”

“Yeah, baby.” I smooth my hand over her hair. Amelia looks between us expectantly, as if she’s waiting for me to say something. “I’m going to take off,” I tell Bell. “I’ll come back to pick you up in a bit.”

“You have to go?” Bell asks.

I pray against the odds that she won’t melt into a tantrum. The last thing I need is a roomful of women judging my parenting. “Yes, this party is girls only. I’m not a girl.”

“But . . .” Her hands curl into my jeans.

“I’ll be right next door with Uncle Nathan.”

“Hello, Bell,” Amelia says, touching the pendant around her neck. “Nice to see you again.”

“Amelia,” I warn. “Don’t.”

Bell looks up as if she hadn’t noticed anyone at all. “’Mila?” She releases my leg to face her. “What’s that?”

Amelia releases the locket suddenly, as if she hadn’t realized she was playing with it. Her fingers are stiff. “It’s . . . a necklace.”

“I know,” Bell says irritably, “but what kind? It looks old.”

“It is.” Amelia curls her hand against her chest. “I just found it in storage. I haven’t had a chance to clean it yet—with silver, you should really take care of it, have it polished . . .” The thin skin of her throat ripples when she swallows.

Bell’s eyebrows are wrinkled. Because she doesn’t give two shits about how to care for silver. Amelia has no idea how to talk to children, which should bother me, but I’m more captivated by their awkwardness.

“I hear it’s your birthday tomorrow,” Amelia says. “My dad gave me this locket on my tenth birthday.”

“What’s a locket?” Bell asks. “Can I see?”

Amelia hesitates before she reaches behind her to remove it. She squats, her back straight as a rod. I doubt she’s ever bent down to anyone else’s level before. “You put a picture inside.”

“Inside? How? Can I open it?”

“The clasp is a little tricky—” Amelia starts to undo it and thinks better of it. She hands Bell the necklace. “Go ahead. You try.”

Bell fumbles with the small, oval pendant while Amelia obviously restrains herself from interfering. Finally, Bell pops it open and gasps. “Wow. Is that you?”

“As a baby,” Amelia says.

“I love it,” Bell decides. “I want one with my picture.”

“Well, you’ll have to wait a few more years. Until you’re old enough.” Amelia glances up at me. “If your dad says it’s okay.”

I have to look away. I want to be angry, like I am when Denise tries to get to me through Bell. It doesn’t feel like that’s what Amelia’s doing, though. She doesn’t know how to connect with Bell, and I’m not sure she even wants to—but she’s trying. For me.

Bell gives back the necklace and takes Amelia’s hand. “Come on. I’ll take you over to say hi to Aunt Sadie.”

Amelia closes her eyes for a brief second and then stands. “Please,” she says to me under her breath. “I didn’t know I wanted this. I’m sorry that I do, but I’m also not.”