Crush(72)

“Mommy,” she called again, waiting for me to turn around and greet her.

My eyes were still on Michael as I got in and closed the door. “She keeps referring to you that way. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to get her to stop.”

It was odd, but a feeling of relief coursed through me and I turned around. “Hi, silly girl.” I clutched her kicking foot. “I missed you. How are you today?”

Sputtering sounds escaped her throat and my broken heart felt a little more whole at the pure excitement this little girl felt at seeing me.

She was what I needed.

Michael pulled away and a piece of my heart was left on the curb.

“So how’s business?” he asked. “We haven’t talked much lately. It’s keeping you pretty busy, I take it.”

The boutique was the other bright spot in my life. “Business is booming. I can’t believe how people have taken to the idea of the finest things in life. To be honest, I’m having a hard time keeping the shelves stocked. I’m trying to buy up as much inventory as I can.”

The rain started up again and he took the corner with caution. “Not a bad problem to have.”

Everything with Michael seemed more at ease tonight. Our conversations were slowly getting easier with each passing day, like they had been before that night that changed everything. The night he, in the most roundabout way, told me that if I didn’t help him I’d be banned from Clementine’s life. Stress had a way of impacting people, though, and maybe he hadn’t meant it the way it came across. He was obviously worried about his daughter. And for good reason. Understanding that, and even though I knew I had to stay on my guard, I was happy things felt more back to normal.

“What do you think?” he asked as he pulled into his garage.

I blinked, realizing I’d tuned him completely out for most of the ride.

He laughed. “I thought I lost you somewhere on the highway. I was talking about dinner. I picked up everything I need to make chicken stir-fry.”

I raised an impressed brow. “You’re cooking?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while since I turned the stove on and I felt it was time. Erin fed Clementine, so if you want to give her a bath and put her down, I’ll start chopping.”

Something felt off about this. I hoped this wasn’t a date and I’d misconstrued what he’d meant by dinner. Grabbing a bite to eat was one thing, but Michael cooking for me felt like something else.

“Elle, are you sure everything is okay?”

I plastered a smile on my face. “Yes, it was just a long day. That’s all.”

“If you’re too tired, I can take care of Clementine.”

Realizing it sounded like I didn’t want to, I spoke quickly. “No, I’d love to put her to bed.”

He opened his door. “Great, I’ll grab the groceries. You grab her.”

Before he questioned my behavior anymore, I did as he said.

Whenever Clementine spent the day at Erin’s, she came home exhausted. Nap time there was spotty, and she was used to getting her full two hours each and every day. Without complaint she let me give her a quick bath. She usually liked to play in the water, but not tonight. Within twenty minutes we were in the rocker in her pink fairy-decorated room and I was reading her Goodnight Moon.

The sparkle on the walls was supposed to look like fairy dust and every time I was in here, I wondered if my sister had come up with the idea. In a way, it looked like dandelion weeds blowing in the wind. I’d never asked Michael about it. Sharing that part of my past was too intimate. I already knew he was very unaware of what Lizzy’s and my childhood was like because when I first arrived in Boston, he asked me if my parents had heard from my sister. Lizzy hadn’t even told him our mother had died.

“And good night to Clementine,” I said, putting our special spin on it as I tried to reel in my scattered thoughts.

She clapped.

Closing the last page of the book, I hugged her tightly. “I love you,” I told her.

She wrapped her little arms around me in a hug that melted me. She was what I needed to help ease the ever-growing gap in my chest. Logan’s abandonment of me was starting to settle in, the anger wearing off, and grief becoming a screaming wound opening deeper and deeper.

After a long while, I brought her to her crib and settled her beneath a blanket. “Good night, sweet girl,” I whispered and kissed her, not once, but twice.

Her eyes were closed before I even backed away from the crib and I had an overwhelming urge to go bury myself under the covers and go to bed myself, but I knew I couldn’t.

Quietly, I tiptoed down the hallway. The house was old, but all the rooms had been remodeled with a distinguished elegance. Michael had owned the house for a few years and although I’d never asked, I was certain it had been decorated before my sister moved in. With its parquet wood floors, white walls, and different shades of blues throughout, it looked like something out of Martha’s Vineyard.

My sister had been more wild child. The sixties “peace, love, not war” was her philosophy. Her drug use went along with her disposition. It was just who she was. How she rebelled, I used to think, but maybe it was more how she coped.

As I passed Heidi’s former room, something about its disarray caught my attention. This room had navy drapes and a white bedspread with blue doves embroidered all over it. It was typically kept neat, as was every room in the house. Today it was anything but. The bed was unmade and the blue-and-white striped carpet was thrown back. I found that strange.