“Because grown-ups who love each other like to cuddle as they fall asleep.”
“Why?”
I’ve never wanted the word ‘why’ to vanish from the English language more than in this moment. “To feel close to each other.”
“Did you and Mummy cuddle when you fell asleep?”
“Yes.” My throat feels thick.
“Is Mummy coming back?”
“I don’t think so.” I push my bowl away. “Even if she does, we wouldn’t live together.”
“Why not?”
“Because she doesn’t love me anymore. And I don’t love her anymore.”
It shocks me that it’s true. I loved Caroline for a long time after she left, despite the hurt she caused. But somewhere along the line, I stopped loving her. I’m not sure if it happened before I met and fell in love with Spence or if being with him has just made me aware of it. Not that it matters.
Lexi’s chin trembles.
“She still loves you,” I say, even though I have no clue if it’s the truth. “Mummy will always love you.”
My words don’t help. Lexi still looks close to tears.
“And I’ll always love you,” I remind her. “It’s always going to be you and me.”
“And Spence,” she spits.
“Yes. You, me, and Spence.”
“Willhestay?” she asks.
“I hope so.” I reach across the table and hold her hand. “But I don’t know for sure. Sometimes grown-ups fall out with each other, just like you must fall out with your friends sometimes.”
“We do,” Lexi says. “But we hug and make up.”
“That’s great.”
“Why didn’t you and Mummy hug and make up?”
My voice fails me. I clear my throat and will it to come back. “I wanted to, but Mummy went away.”
Lexi’s eyes widen. “Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
I don’t know for sure, but Lexi doesn’t need to know that. I hope she’s still alive. I hope she’s happy. I hope she’s found whatever it was she was looking for when she left us.
Lexi starts eating again, her actions slower than before we started this conversation. I leave her to think things through. It’s been several months since she asked about Caroline. It makes sense that the prospect of Spence being a bigger part of her life would make her think about the mum she’s never known.
“Spence can sleep over tomorrow,” she says in a grumbly voice.
“Thank you, pudding.”
“I’m not a pudding.”
“Yes, you are. You’re my chocolate pudding.”
