“Let me shower first?”
Lana nods. “Did you have a good day?”
“My day doesn’t matter,” I say. “Tell me about yours.”
“Don’t do that,” she murmurs. “Did you have a good day?”
“I did, baby,” I whisper, pushing her hair back. “You?”
“Fine.” Lana sniffles.“Take a shower and come back to me.”
I give her the elephant, which she instantly pulls snuggly into her chest, and I leave the frosting and cookies on her nightstand. “I’ll come right back.”
In the kitchen, I take out a vase to fit the flowers into. After, I take a quick shower to wash off the day I’ve had at work, and I rush through everything just so I can slip into bed with the love of my life.
I stroll back into our bedroom after my shower, shaking out my wet hair and wearing boxers. Lana’s sitting up now with a spoonful of frosting in her mouth and her eyes on the TV withThe Officeon.
“Hey, baby.” I cozy in beside Lana, sitting up against the headboard with her as the bed squeaks beneath me, and kiss her shoulder.
“Hi.”
“You feeling better?”
Lana shakes her head with a small pout on her full lips, her eyes are still red and swollen. “I miss her.”
“I know, baby.”
She slowly begins to sob again and I take the tub of frosting from her hands to set it down on the bedside table. I pull Lana into me but she settles down with her head on her lap.
“It hurts,” Lana weeps.
I kiss her head and brush back her hair. “I know, I’m sorry, baby.”
Lan weeps and wails, screams into me as her body trembles in my arms, and I hold her tight. She cries and cries until there is nothing left, her trembles fading and her battle cries calming. She pushes herself up and climbs over my body, straddling my hips and wrapping her arms around my neck.
I wrap my arms around her and hold her securely to my chest, hoping to ensconce her with my love. “I love you, Lana.”
She sniffles hard and her voice trembles as she says, “You’re my only family, you know.”
I nod and she pulls her head out from the crook of my neck. Her eyes are so red and swollen, it breaks my heart, and her lips are in a heavy pout. I pull the strands sticking to her wet cheeks and push them behind her ear. “You’re my only family too,” I murmur. “Just you.”
All my family did was conceive me. Never anything more.
Lana nods. “Christian?”
“Tell me, Lana.”
“I can’t wait for us to buy a house,” she croaks. “A big one on the lake.”
“A big house on the lake—got it,” I say. “What else?”
Her pout barely lessens, but I see it. “A pool?”
“Noted. What else?”
“Uh…” she sniffs and wipes her cheek. “Fireplace.”
I create a mental list. “Keep going.”
