"Tell me to stop," I murmur. "Tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll walk away right now."
She doesn't say anything. Just stares up at me with those dark eyes, chest rising and falling. Waiting. There’s no air left in the room. All I can hear is the sound of my own heart thudding in my chest.
I lean in.
Her eyes flutter closed.
I can feel her breath on my lips, can almost taste her?—
"Dad?"
We spring apart like we’ve been electrocuted.
I turn to see Lucy standing in the hallway. She’s rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her hair is a wild tangle, and she's dragging her stuffed horse by one leg. She looks between Eliza and me with the kind of innocent curiosity that makes my heart clench.
"Why are you guys standing so close together?" she asks. "Were you telling secrets?"
"Something like that." I clear my throat and take a deliberate step back from Eliza. My heart is hammering so hard I'm surprised Lucy can't hear it. "What are you doing up, sweetheart? It's early."
"The thunder woke me." She pads across the kitchen and wraps her arms around my waist. "Can we have pancakes? You promised."
I look at Eliza over Lucy's head. She's got her arms crossed, cheeks flushed, looking everywhere but at me. The moment is shattered, but the tension still crackles in the air like static before lightning.
"Pancakes it is," I say. "Why don't you go put your robe on? It’s cold in here. Then you can pick out what shape you want."
"Christmas trees!" Lucy releases me and bounces toward the bathroom. "Do you like pancakes, Eliza?"
"I do." She lets out a soft giggle.
"Dad makes the best pancakes. You’re going to love them. Also, are those your real nails? I love the color. Can you paint mine after breakfast? I can grab my polish while I’m getting my robe. I have so many colors."
Eliza's expression softens in a way that does something dangerous to my chest. "Yeah, I'd like that. If it's okay with your dad, of course."
Lucy looks up at me with hopeful eyes. "Please, Dad? Please, please, please?"
I'm a goner. I have been since the day she was born. "Sure, sweetheart. If Eliza wants to."
"Yay! Actually, come with me." Lucy grabs Eliza's hand and tugs her toward the bathroom. "I'll show you my sparkle collection. I have eleven different colors, but the blue one is my favorite because it looks like a mermaid. But I might want a Christmas vibe, and I do think I have a green. Very elf-like…"
Her chatter fades down the hall, and I'm left standing in the kitchen. My coffee grows cold, but my body still thrums with need.
One night, she said.
But watching her let my daughter drag her down the hallway, seeing that polished armor crack just a little more with every step…
I know one night isn't going to be enough.
Not even close.
8
eliza
I slip into my own clothes. We spend the morning painting tiny fingernails and pretending I'm not falling apart.
Lucy is a girl after my own heart. She has opinions. Strong ones. She wants red on her thumbs because those are the important fingers for playing games on her phone. The sparkly green goes everywhere else because green is having a moment, thanks to the release of the secondWickedmovie.
I follow her logic perfectly. Which either says something about her maturity or my mental state… maybe both.
