He’d smiled at me over her head like it wasn’t the first time he’d imagined a future in our garden.
I didn’t cry, but I wanted to.
Instead, I sat with the quiet ache that pressed against the inside of my ribs and held that crooked little carrot like it had something important to say.
I scanned the basket again.
No note.
Nothing tucked beneath the towel or wedged between the peas and basil. Nothing that said my name. Nothing that was just for me, and somehow that absence made the ache worse.
I realized then that I wanted one. I wanted a message. A word. Some small offering that said he saw me too.
Not just Winnie.
Not just the little life we were building around her, butme.
I curled my fingers tighter around the carrot and stood.
With sure steps, I walked to his door and knocked—hard.
“Austin? Are you there? I’m sorry, I’d like to talk. Please open up.” My heartbeat drummed in time with my tapping toes. I knocked again. “Austin?”
Silence greeted me as I slunk away. The porch creaked beneath my weight as I stepped inside and let the screen door close behind me. The scent of basil followed, earthy and green, clinging to the air as I set the basket on the counter.
The carrot stayed in my hand, and I stared at it for a long moment, heart tight in my chest, and smiled.
He was still showing up, and I knew exactly what I’d say the second I saw him again.
Winnie’s thunderous footsteps pulled me from my spiraling thoughts.
“Mama! I figured it out!” Winnie declared, breathless as she made her way to the kitchen. “Our Halloween costumes. We should be the Lady of the Dunes!”
I turned from the sink, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes!” She nodded hard. “You’ll be the Lady. Like, with a long floaty dress and a crown made of seaweed or shells or something cool. Austin can be her long-lost love—the sailor who got lost at sea—and I’ll be the grizzliest, grossest sea captain ever.”
She paused, grinning. “I’ll have a fake beard and a peg leg and one eyeball hanging out.”
“Oh wow,” I said, trying not to laugh. “You’ve really thought this through.”
“I think it’s perfect,” she said proudly. “We’ll be spooky and tragic and hilarious. The best kind of Halloween.”
Her smile was blinding, so wide and hopeful it almost hurt to look at. She bounced on her toes, then spun in a little circle like the sheer joy of planning was too big for her body.
“We can all go together,” she said, nodding fiercely. “Me and you and Dad?—”
She stopped.
I blinked.
Her eyes widened. “I mean Austin.” She covered her slip with a laugh. “You know what I meant.”
My heart gave the faintest lurch, and I reached for the counter behind me like I could anchor myself to it. The edge bit into my palm.
I sat down on the nearest stool, slowly, like anything more abrupt might crack me open.
“Sweetie ...” My voice was thinner than I wanted it to be. I swallowed. “Austin, he ...”
