I looked at her, suddenly feeling uneasy. “Yes.”
“Well, my cousin got tickets for us. So, I’m taking her tonight. We leaving in about forty-five minutes. You can come, if you want. I hope you want.”
Aziza clasped her hands under her chin. “Please, Mama. Please, please, please.” Max offered a timely little yip in support.
My mind jumped straight to all the bad things that could happen. Accidents, random violence, someone following them. It sent my anxiety into overdrive. Just too many people, too many possibilities.
“I don’t know, Serena. Ruston is crowded this time of year. It’s gon’ be dark. And cold. And?—”
“And I’m a fully functioning adult with a black belt in Taekwondo,” Serena cut in, her voice soft but firm. “I got it. My cousin and her kids gon’ be there. You got the address and the schedule of events already in your email. You can track my phone. This not kidnapping, Ky. This Christmas.”
I gave her a look. She pursed her lips and arched a brow.
“My job is to teach this child and keep her safe. I wanna make sure she got real memories of Christmas. I know you got your reasons for not making any. I respect that. But Ky… she ain’t you.”
That hurt. Badly. Was I being selfish? I’d asked myself that a thousand times. I didn’t try to deprive Aziza of Christmas. I just didn’t participate. My baby pressed against me, eyes wide and pleading. I knew I was done for.
“I’ma hold Ms. Serena hand,” she promised. “I’ma look both ways, I won’t talk to strangers, I won’t eat nothing weird. I’ma remember everything you said. Please, Mama.”
Her voice broke a little on “please.” I felt so bad in that moment.
“What time you gon’ be back?” I asked Serena.
“The show starts at seven. We probably be back by nine-thirty. Ten, if traffic stupid,” she said.
“You text me when you get there and before you leave. If anything feel off, you come home immediately, Serena.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “Scout’s honor. Well, Girl Scout.”
I gave her a skeptical look. “You were a Girl Scout?”
She smiled, her pretty face lighting up. “I quit, but it still count a little bit.”
I sighed. “Okay. You can go.”
Aziza squealed and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Go get a hat and gloves. Double socks,” I said, smoothing her hair.
“I’m gon’ look like a snowman,” she complained, already racing upstairs.
Serena stayed back. “You could come, you know. You don’t gotta keep hiding yourself behind something that happened ten years ago,” she said quietly.
“This is not hiding. It’s just my preference,” I countered.
“Mm-hmm. If you say so.” Her eyes moved to the empty corner. “I still think that spot would be perfect for a tree. Just saying.”
“I’m not paying anybody to decorate a tree I’m never gon’ look at. Can you help my child find a hat?” I changed that subject fast.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said with a sad smile, then headed upstairs.
I stood there listening to Aziza singing, Max barking, and Serena telling her to slow down. They were here. Mr. Benton was here. And I felt so alone. Forty minutes later, Serena’s SUV rolled down the long driveway. Aziza waved at me from the back window, glowing with excitement. I watched until theydisappeared around the curve, then forced myself away from the doorway. The house was heavy with silence. I told myself to go back to my laptop, answer emails, work on my draft. Instead, I walked back to the entryway and stood there, looking lost. staring at the empty corner like it was staring back. A soft whine had me looking down where Max rubbed sympathetically against my leg.
“I’m okay, boy,” I murmured.
Mr. Benton appeared suddenly, and I almost jumped out of my skin. He moved so quietly that I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it.
“A visitor representing the town called from the gate,” he announced.
